No one has cared about me—not since her—and I’ve never had anyone anxiously waiting for my return. But she does, and hopefully she is. In the meantime, it breaks my fucking heart that she might think I’m dead, just another person to leave her behind.

God, if I could only call—if I could just hear her voice—everything would be okay. The magazine falls from my hands. My temples throb with each flicker of the fluorescent light, and I pin my eyes on the communications center just a few steps away. Knowing I can’t get in there annoys the hell out of me.

Elkins chuckling strikes my ears like nails against a chalkboard, and I want to fucking scream. I want to grab the nearest officer and shake the living shit out of him. Let me fucking out of here! Fix the fucking phone!

The screeching sound of the main door opening makes me pop straight up and draws most of the eyes in the building. Captain Hendricks enters the main hallway and stops, scanning us as we all keep our eyes locked on him. We wait anxiously for him to speak, but he scurries quickly past us and into the operations center, joining the other officers. I drop back down and shut my eyes, but just as my lids are about to meet, I hear footsteps exiting the operations center. I look up to see Lieutenant Dixon making his way toward the front door, but he stops just before he gets there.

“Alright, we just got word from EOD that nearly all the ordnances are cleaned up and taken care of. We will still have engineers and communications teams here for the next few days to get everything back in working order, but you’ll be able to go back to your tents tonight at 2100 hours.” He finishes and turns to exit, and I quickly rise to my feet.

“Sir?” He stops in his tracks and turns to me. “What about the Comm Center? When will it be back up?”

“Did you not hear me, Sergeant Clay?” he snarls. “Communications teams will be getting everything back to working order in the next few days. You think you’re the only one that wants to use the phone?” I envision myself strangling him, my thick hands squeezing his neck as he flails helplessly.

“Well, I didn’t know if maybe they gave you a time frame … Sir.”

“Should be up tomorrow,” he mumbles before strapping his helmet on and exiting the building.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss under my breath, dropping back to the ground.

I listen as the last truck rumbles out of the front gate and down the road. My cot feels like a California king and our tent like a suite at the Ritz right about now. I’m curled up in the dark, using my flashlight to light my way out of this place. I scan every line of every letter Katie has written me as I listen to the faint sounds of men working outside the tent, the very men I’m relying so desperately on to bring me closer to her—communication-wise at least. I pray they get the lines up before we set out on our mission tomorrow. I’m looking at three hours of sleep at the rate I’m going, but I don’t care. I can’t sleep because my mind is just too frantic, and I know it won’t calm down until I talk to Katie. All I want to do is let her know that I’m okay … that I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere.

The alarm on my watch blasts for what has to be five minutes before I realize it’s not a dream. Navas and a few of the others are half awake and grumbling for me to shut it the fuck off, and I finally shake the sleep away enough to mute the annoying sound.

0500.

The glaring numbers burn holes through my pupils. I glance over to my left and see the pile of letters beside me. It immediately reminds me what I’m doing up so early and kicks me into gear. I’ll check every hour if I have to, but I will reach her before mission.

I labor out of bed and throw on my gear before making my way to the entrance of the tent. Peeking out, I see that the crews have finished working for the night. Equipment and maintenance vehicles are still scattered around the base, but there’s not a noise to be heard or movement to be seen. I step out of the tent and walk toward headquarters, all the while counting the charred remnants where each mortar exploded. The walls of the Hesco barriers are painted black with soot and dotted with fresh holes, and a guard tower is still mid-repair. Two small buildings used for storage are now in shambles, but the rest of the base seems to be intact. A quick chill shoots down my spine as I realize just how lucky we were.

We could’ve been killed. I could’ve been killed.

Just before entering headquarters, I look up to the sky and imagine God looking down at me. I mouth a ‘thank you’ to Him, and in my head I say a short prayer: Please let it be fixed, Lord. Please.

Stepping inside, I first look through the open operations center door. For a second, I think I should just ask the radio operator if communications are back up, but I can’t. If he tells me no, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Instead, I enter the communications center, take a seat and power up the computer, crossing my fingers tightly as I do so. The little bar dances back and forth across the computer screen, over and over and over again. My stomach tightens and my foot bobs at a pace any crack addict would appreciate. The seconds feel like hours as the word ‘loading’ works its way under my skin.

And then it happens … the chime … the system booting up. It’s fixed! Every tense muscle in my body relaxes. I settle into the seat and let out a long sigh of relief. Then, without hesitation, I quickly pull up my email.

There are four messages from Katie, and I read each of them—more than once. With each one, my heart both breaks and then mends, and when my mind finally puts together the messages she left me in the form of subject lines, my heart expands to epic proportions.

She wants me.

She wants us.

I say, hell yes.

Tears blur my eyes, but I blink them away. I have to let her know that I’m okay. I check my watch.

0600.

Struggling to do the math in my head, I finally realize that it’s only ten where she’s at, so I rip the phone from the cradle, dialing her number as fast as my fingers will move.

“We Can Try”—Between The Trees

DIPPING MY HANDS INTO THE hot, soapy water, I reach for a glass and then perform the same monotonous routine that I’ve been performing on this load of dishes for the past twenty minutes.

Scrub. Rinse. Repeat.

My eyes have been locked on a little girl playing in her yard across the street, but my mind isn’t processing what my hands are doing or what my eyes are seeing. I’ve had a one-track mind for the past several days, and it’s been on Devin.

I’ve carried my phone around in my hand like it’s attached to my body, and every time it rings, my heart stutters to a stop. But it’s never him, and with each day that’s passed, what little hope I had left has slowly started to fade.

A soft knock sounds at the door, but instead of moving to answer it, I just yell at whoever is there to come in. Probably not the smartest idea, but right now I don’t really care. My mind drifts back to thoughts of Devin when I hear the front door open and then shut, followed by the soft shuffle of someone walking toward me. Hopefully it’s not a serial killer. I take that back—

“Hey, Kit Kat.” At the gentle sound of Bailey’s voice, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and pray to whoever is willing to listen that she takes pity on me, because I’m not up for much of a fight right now.