“Baby, I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“Uh … okay.” She looks torn between being completely embarrassed and concerned about what’s going on, but she knows now is not the time to ask.

“I love you, Kit Kat, with all my heart.” Navas steps outside to give us a moment alone.

“Forever and always?” she asks.

“Forever and always.”

“I love you, too,” she says before the screen goes black. I log off the computer and meet Navas outside the door.

“You fucking cock! You ever heard of knocking?” I punch him hard on the arm.

“I’m sorry. I was rushing and wasn’t thinking. It’s just …” He trails off and looks to the operations center then back at me.

“What’s up, dude? What’s going on?”

“Just come to the Ops Center with me, man. Whole squad is in there. Something went down with Adams’ convoy.” Fear strikes me dead in the chest and the worst images flood my mind.

“What do you mean? They just set out like forty minutes ago.” I follow Navas as he leads me to the operations center, where I see my guys nervously hunched over the radio.

“The other two trucks on his patrol got out to the scene and they’re sending the info in now. Captain Kendricks wanted me to get all the guys ready ‘cause we’re probably going out.”

“What do you mean ‘got to the scene’? Why weren’t they together?”

“I don’t know. They literally just reached out to report it. Apparently, they’re still trying to figure out what happened.” I have no idea what’s going on or how the vehicles could’ve gotten separated. I turn my focus to the radio, which sits silent for a moment before relaying the message.

“Three KIA, one MIA, RPG rounds and small arms fire. No sign of enemy combatants. Over.” Three KIA, one MIA. The words catch me off-guard. Please tell me I didn’t just hear that. Tavares lifts the radio headset to his ear and clicks the button.

“Names of KIA, MIA? Over.”

“Akers, Fields, Dixon, KIA … Adams MIA,” the voice over the radio says, struggling to remain composed. Adams and Dixon’s faces pop into my head, and I can’t help but feel terrible for everything I’ve ever thought or spoken about either one of them. This isn’t the first time I’m hearing about the death of a fellow soldier, but it never gets any easier. It’s like an out-of-body experience; you’re there, but well beyond the realm of understanding. You want to believe that if you convince yourself it isn’t real, maybe it will be the truth.

The news forces me into a seat. Thomas walks quickly out of the room, and I know exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to do what all of us wish we could do right now and that’s cry our fucking eyes out.

Captain Kendricks grabs the headset from Tavares and pulls it to his mouth.

“Gator 2 Charlie, what in the hell happened out there? Over.” He is furious, and rightfully so.

“Lieutenant Dixon’s truck was pulling security on a bridge and we were on the other side behind cover, waiting for word from them on our next movements. The vehicles not being together was Lieutenant Dixon’s call, Sir. Over.” Captain Kendricks squeezes the headset tightly between his hands, and it looks as if he could just about crush it into tiny bits.

“And what happened next? Over.”

“We didn’t immediately know where the attack was coming from, Sir. We didn’t have eyes on Lieutenant Dixon’s truck and we were waiting on them to give us directions. Over.”

“And when you finally did decide to move your ass and react to contact, what did you find? Over.”

“No enemy combatants, Sir. Partially destroyed Humvee, RPG and small arms fire, and the three KIA and one MIA. Over.”

“Roger. You keep your asses there and don’t move. Over.” Captain Kendricks throws the headset to the ground and Tavares scrambles to retrieve it.

“Sergeant Clay,” Captain Kendricks calls out, and I rise to my feet. “Get your men together and prepare for mission. Have Staff Sergeant Baker’s squad go with you.”

“Roger that, Sir.”

I gather my men and we make our way back to the tent without a word spoken between us. It’s not like there’s anything to say in this moment. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Some make it home still breathing. Others make it home in flag-draped coffins. These are the days I wish I could forget.

“She Is Love”—Parachute

SODA SPEWS FROM MAGGIE’S MOUTH, her eyes as wide as they can get, and she busts up in a full-blown belly laugh. “Oh my God! That’s fucking hilarious.”

“No, it’s not.” I shake my head, lips pursed, wondering why in the world I thought it was a good idea to tell my best friend about last night’s webcam mishap. “It was horrifying. I was completely mortified.”

“Who cares?” she says, waving me off as she wipes the tears from her face. “That is classic, and you’re going to laugh about it for years to come.”

“No, I won’t,” I say flatly.

She shrugs and then falls into another fit of laughter. “Fine. I will.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t hate me. I’m not the one that coaxed you into getting naked in front of a computer screen.”

Yeah, I left out the part that I was the one doing the coaxing. She may be my BFF, but there are definitely things that are better left unsaid.

“Can we please talk about something else? This is starting to make me pissy.” Plus, I’ve got something much bigger on my mind, and if I don’t tell somebody, I’ll probably burst.

“Fine,” she says, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll sitting in front of her. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I think I’m pregnant.” I have absolutely no control over my mouth today and the words fall out before I give them permission.

For the second time in less than five minutes, I watch Maggie spew something all over my kitchen table—only this time it isn’t soda, it’s her cinnamon roll. “WHAT? What do you mean you think you’re pregnant?”

“I mean, I haven’t had my period and I never miss my period … ever.”

“But you’re on birth control, right?”

“Yes! That’s what I don’t understand. My periods have been regular since starting it years ago, so there’s no other explanation.”

Maggie’s mouth opens and then shuts as she absorbs what I’m saying. “Okay, there could easily be another explanation.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“I don’t know! I’m still thinking …” She rubs a hand over her head and looks down for several beats before looking up again. “Do your boobs hurt? Do you feel sick? Did you take a test? You should take a test.” Her questions come out too fast, and I have to think about my answers for a second before responding.

“Yes. No. Kind of.”

Maggie’s brows furrow as she presumably lines up my answers to her questions. “What do you mean kind of? You either took a test or you didn’t. It’s a yes or no answer.”

“I didn’t pee on a stick, if that’s what you’re asking. But I called Dr. Bray’s office and they told me to stop the birth control and come in for a blood test, which I did first thing this morning.”

“Annnnd …” Maggie is watching me, eyes wide, waiting for an answer that’s going to disappoint her.

“They’re supposed to call me this afternoon.” As if right on cue, my phone rings, and Maggie and I both stare at it.

“Answer it,” she says, shoving it in my direction.

“What if I’m pregnant?”

“You won’t know if you don’t answer the damn phone.” Maggie snags my cell from the table and flips it open. “Hello … yes, she’s right here.”

She hands me the phone and I slowly bring it to my ear. My heart is hammering inside my chest, and blood is rushing past my ears so fast that I’m a little worried I won’t even hear her … in fact, I might very well pass out.