Unraveled

CHAPTER FIVE

Gray

WHEN EVERYONE BROKE FOR THE night and last call was made, I sent Bo and Noah on their way, explaining I had an apology to make and I'd catch a taxi home. I’d tried to find Sam during the evening but she never returned to the patio bar, and I didn’t want to make waves by asking Adam for access to wherever she was.

"Taxi service is shit here," Noah cautioned.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I said. "I'd have to run back to your place? I've done longer distances with a hundred pound pack on my back."

Bo and Noah shared a look and then shrugged and took off when they realized I wasn’t going to change my mind. I loitered outside the bar, leaning against a brick wall, fading into the shadows. From my vantage point, I could see the exit but I was mostly hidden from view.

The door opened and Sam came out with her friend, and I pushed away from the wall and called out so I didn't startle her. She still yelped in surprise and jumped back, bumping into her girlfriend. So much for not startling her. I stepped into the light and held up my hands in surrender so she could see I was harmless—although I was aware that was a relative term. I could've taken both women and had them bound and in a car in less time than it takes a cop to piss.

"Jaysus," said the taller woman, holding her hand to her heart. "You scared the piss out of us."

"Don't you have anyone walking you to your cars?" My plans for Sam were momentarily distracted by the thought of these two young women out here in the night unprotected.

"Mark's here." Sam jerked her finger over her shoulder and out came a guy I noticed had been walking around checking things out. He was dressed in black slacks and a black button down shirt and looked like he weighed about a hundred and forty pounds dripping wet. He might require a little more effort, but the three were vulnerable. "And Randy."

Randy was clearly a bouncer, and he walked with heavy feet. He looked like he was all muscle, no technique.

I decided to make for Mark first, before I separated Sam from her people. Mark was the guy in charge, at least based on his clothes—black shirt button down shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes. Sam and the other woman wore shorts and Randy had on jeans and a T-shirt. "Hey, Mark, Gray Phillips. Friend of Adam's. We sat at the table to the left of the stage."

Mark nodded and held out his hand. He had a good handshake. I was tempted to squeeze it too hard but managed to suppress my stupid caveman instincts. I was trying to make nice here. I gave him my best politician's smile, which I learned from watching my dad for the last eight years—he’d worn it out until it was his default expression.

"I need to have a few minutes with Ms. Anderson here, if I can. I promise to return her in just a few." I gave his hand another squeeze and another smarmy "I'm a people person" smile. It worked for my dad, and I hoped it would work for me here.

Mark nodded. "Sure." He even gave Sam a little push toward me. She glared at Mark but no one made a move to stop me from moving her down the sidewalk into the darker edges of the boulevard.

She was resistant and I felt like I was dragging her. “Look, I’m sorry I said that stuff inside. I was worked up and caught off guard.” I gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m pretty big on not cheating.”

“I got that.” She sighed. “I think it was just a mistake all around. I get why you were angry. I’m sure if I was kissing someone I thought was married, I’d have freaked out too.”

I wanted to object to the freaking out thing. “Can we rewind and go back to the place we were before I insulted you thoroughly?”

Sam bit the side of her lip and glanced back at her tall friend. The tall friend smiled and waved, a get-going gesture. I waved back because Sam needed more encouragement from the look of indecision on her face.

"Did you really wait all night to tell me that you’re sorry?"

No, I realized with sudden clarity, I waited all night to see if I could convince you to pick up where we left off. Then I laughed at myself for being a dick. So much for not liking bar hook ups. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Where's your crew? Did they abandon you?"

"I told them to go on ahead."

"You have a car? The Woodlands is a ways out."

"Nope, but I'm fine."

She tapped the front of her neck and frowned at me. No one else was around now, just her, me, and the three waiting for her.

"How're you getting home?" she asked finally.

I rolled my shoulders to appear as relaxed and non-confrontational as possible. "I'm just going to call a taxi."

"Taxi service is terrible here." Her frown was getting deeper which was the wrong reaction.

“I really am sorry, you know.” I ran my fingers over the side of her mouth, trying to coax a smile out of her.

“Me too.” She tucked her face into my hand, almost like one of those kittens a few of us had found near a forward operating base in a ditch, abandoned by their mother. Those tiny things had been hesitant at first, but with a little milk and a tender touch had tottered on their little legs after us, always seeking one last pet. We’d given those kittens away to local kids.

“You going to drive me home, or am I going to have to hoof it?” We’d been beating around that bush, and I figured I should just come out and ask.

“I actually live near here.” She gestured to the west of us but I didn’t care where she lived, only that I was hearing her right. “Would you like some coffee?”

Coffee. Shit yeah, I did. “Ordinarily I don’t go home for coffee after a night at the bar but yeah, with you, I’d like that.”

“I’ve never had anyone home for coffee except, well, Will.”

Will, her dead husband and fallen soldier. I pushed that image out of my mind. She was here with me and I still remembered the feeling of her shuddering in my arms. This time I wanted the trembling to happen when I was inside of her. I wanted to feel the shake of her body when I licked her pussy and the clench of her tight channel when I thrust into her. No one else would be there but her and me. “Lead the way,” I said. “I’m thirsty.”

She flushed slightly, waved to her friends and boldly took my hand, leading me down the dark alley with piss poor lighting behind the bar. I took a mental note to mention to Adam tomorrow that his old man needed better, safer lighting for the staff. Sam hit her key fob and the lights to an expensive European SUV blinked on and off.

"Nice wheels,” I said. "You take this off-roading?” This vehicle was more my style than Bo’s tiny sports car would ever be.

“Never," she said. "It was my mom's. I got it when I graduated from high school. It's actually pretty old."

"Still nice."

We chitchatted about cars and she knew surprisingly quite a bit about her own vehicle.

“I can even change my own tires,” she said proudly after I’d teased her about knowing how much horsepower her Rover had.

“That’s impossible,” I mocked. “No girl knows how to do that.”

“Whatever,” she flicked her palm toward me. “My dad taught me because…” She trailed off.

“Because?”

“I’ve been alone for a long time.”

The specter of why she’d been alone formed between us but if she was going to ignore it, then I was too, because I wanted this girl. We’d started something in that hallway and I was too stubborn to give up on whatever she had in mind for me. Plus, I had stuff to show her too. I’d made her those promises and I always, always delivered on my promises.

The trip to Sam’s place took only a few minutes. She wasn’t kidding when she said she lived close. It was one of those old brick factory buildings revitalized into lofts. The lighting here was shit too. I shook my head. Placing my hand at the small of her back, I watched the shadows so she didn’t have to. She might be able to change her tire and recite the horsepower on her Rover, but she didn’t watch out for herself like she should.

“Have you lived here long?” I asked as I followed her up the stairs to the second floor of the building.

“Three years,” she replied. “It’s small but mine.”

I may have preferred taller girls, but there was no denying the shapeliness of Sam’s ass as it moved underneath the cotton of her shorts. I remembered what it felt like in my palm—firm but pliable. I clenched my fingers unconsciously at the memory. I couldn’t wait to take a bite out of it. The upside down heart shape was practically taunting me.

Surreptitiously, I reached inside my own shorts and made a small adjustment so my burgeoning wood wouldn’t scare her or cause me unnecessary pain.

“Here we are,” she murmured, throwing open the door to her apartment. I took a quick look around. There was a lamp lit on the far side of the room and a kitchen to my immediate left. I noted the table and the sofa as the only real furniture in the room. Her bedroom was either somewhere else or she slept on the sofa. “Do you, um, want coffee? I mean a real cup?”

I suppressed a smile at her artlessness. This girl was the farthest thing from a cheating, dishonest base wife. The same protective instincts I’d experienced before when she seemed under verbal assault by the blonde came roaring back. Reaching out, I tucked a few of the loose strands of honey blonde hair behind her ear. “No, what’s right in front of me is more than enough.” I rubbed the pad of my thumb across her lush lower lip.

She closed her eyes and raised her face to mine, and I took the invitation that she offered. Lifting her against me so I wouldn’t have to stoop down, I molded her body against mine. My first kisses were light, to make sure she had time to change her mind, but when she licked her little tongue along my lips, my fire was lit. I’d had aged whisky with my dad that didn’t taste as rich or as heady as she did. When her mouth closed over my tongue and sucked, my eyes rolled back into my head. There were other hot, wet areas of her body, and I ached to put my fingers there, and then my tongue, and then finally my rock hard dick.

“Ahhh,” I moaned against her lips. She released my tongue but fixed her mouth against mine again. The flicks of her tongue against mine had me wondering what that fluttering motion would feel like against my cock. All the blood pooled in my waist as I envisioned her on her knees between my thighs, repeating those same butterfly touches and the same hard suck.

This time when I pulled up her shirt, I grabbed both the T-shirt and her tank underneath. She moaned when my hand made contact with her breast. It wasn’t very big, but the nipple felt like the size of an eraser and saliva pooled in my mouth as I imagined sucking it into my mouth. I shoved up the material and pulled down on her bra in quick jerky movements until I had her plump little breast in my hand. Kneading it, I heard her moan and felt her clutch at my head. I got the hint. Pulling away from her mouth, I lifted her higher with one hand until I could place my mouth around her breast. Through her shorts, I swear I felt the wetness of her arousal. I sucked and she moaned harder, her legs nearly squeezing the breath out of me.

The sofa, I thought, I need to get to the sofa. I stumbled forward, my mouth still latched onto her breast, rolling her stiff nub around my tongue and enjoying the trembling that my ministrations were causing. Holding her, I used the mental map I’d created when I first walked in. The sofa was at ten o’clock. I headed to my left and then cursed when I tripped on something.

“Hold on, baby,” I said, letting her breast fall out of my mouth. “Shit, what was that?” I looked down and saw a pair of worn out combat boots and the shadow of her dead husband rose up and killed my arousal. My hand slid out from underneath her ass, and I slowly released her down to the ground. She looked up at me in confusion, clutching me, and I felt the bite of her wedding ring. This wasn’t going to work.

“I’m sorry.” I looked around the room and catalogued more than just the furniture now. There was an assault pack in the corner and on the wall hung a weird flag with just stripes and a blank space where the blue field of stars should appear. The combat boots I’d tripped over looked obscene. The whole place felt like there was someone other than Sam living here.

“What’s wrong?” She looked and sounded upset, the kind of upset you got when you were turned on and then didn’t get to come. It was a bad kind of upset, the worst kind.

I ran my hand over my short hair and searched for the right words to explain it all to her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the words for something even I didn’t understand. I wasn’t always a jealous guy, but I was feeling pretty jealous now—which was sick in its own way because who’s jealous of a dead guy? If I told this girl that I felt like her husband was still here then she’d think I was loony.

At my hesitation, Sam slumped back away from me, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She released a thready breath and I cursed myself silently for doing this to her. A part of me wanted to just place her on the sofa and say to hell with it but I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to get it up right now.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated lamely. “I’ll just call a taxi.”

“No.” She turned to me. “No. I’ll drive you home.” Her head tilted up in a recognizable expression of pride. Okay then. I’d shit on this whole experience for her and if she wanted to drive me back to Adam’s place then I’d suck it up and let her do it.

Samantha

"WHAT BRANCH WAS YOUR HUSBAND in? Adam didn't say." Gray asked, trying to start up a conversation, I guess. I was feeling embarrassed and bit petulant but a twenty-minute ride from downtown to The Woodlands in uncomfortable silence wasn’t a great idea either.

There was no reason not to talk about Will. After all, I was going home alone tonight like I had so many nights before. "Army."

"Soldier, huh? Where did he serve?"

"Afghanistan. Right at the end. You?"

"Same. What was his platoon? Maybe I knew him."

I told him but he just shrugged.

"Yeah, I didn't serve with a lot of airborne. I was a boots-on-the-ground kind of guy. Not that I don't enjoy jumping out of a plane."

"I've never seen the appeal," I admitted. Will loved it but Will was always the adventurous half of our pairing. He said I kept him grounded and I’d always been kind of proud of my plodding, somewhat boring ways. What a silly thing to be proud of. "Will wanted to be a pararescueman—a PJ. He said that there was nothing greater than falling out of the sky."

“PJs are awesome. Did he ever take you jumping?"

The unease I felt talking about Will had faded. It was kind of interesting talking to someone about the military who knew about it, knew the sorts of things Will was seeking when he was enlisted.

"No. We'd talked about it but then, you know...” I shook my head. Dragging up Will’s death was just not a place I wanted to go. “How long are you here for?”

He didn’t answer right away, maybe contemplating how messed up I was with my condo full of Will’s old things, the ring still on my finger, and me pawing at his clothes. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t screwed up at all but that he’d surprised me. Or my feelings surprised me.

“Forty-five days,” he finally said, giving me no insight into what he was thinking.

“Forty-five days?” I gaped at him. “So many weeks off! The only time I got to see Will for any extended period of time was between Basic and jump school. Even before he went to paratrooper training in Alaska I didn't get to see him that long.”

Gray shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I haven’t signed my re-enlistment papers. My contract is up in six months.”

The military had you sign contracts. I knew the first contract was usually for four years of active duty and then Will had said that they tried to lure you into signing new contracts with promises of a better job or more money or both. Gray looked to be in his mid-twenties, although he could be younger. Deployment in a war zone aged you, Will had told me. Young recruits would go over and return months later looking like they were ten years older “How long have you been in?”

“Eight years.”

“And you’re thinking of separating?”

I felt, rather than saw, him nod. He was reluctant to share his dilemma and why not? I was a stranger so I just drove on until we reached Adam’s house. I stopped the Land Rover at the top of the hill but Gray made no move to get out.

“I can’t decide. I think they gave me a meritorious promotion to staff sergeant because they want me to stay in. I don’t deserve it.” He was frustrated, not quite pulling all of his thoughts together coherently. “There’s a lot more responsibility now. I’ve got to pay attention to the regs better. My dad, he says there are better things out there for me…” He trailed off, his indecision making him more attractive to me than all his alpha male posturing could have.

“When Will died, I dropped out of college, and I’ve never gone back. The last two years…I spent the time bartending, just marking each day as it went by.” I watched him as he stared out the window, the air conditioning in the Rover making the only noise for a while.

“I took a community college course last fall when I got back from Afghanistan,” he said finally, still looking out the window. He’d cupped the back of his head with one hand, rubbing the back of his neck to ease whatever tension had built up. “Other guys who’d gotten out said that community college was better because the students were older, but there’s still such a big difference between me and the others. When I was running raids, they were watching epic battles between wizards and monsters. I felt disconnected. When I finished that course I didn’t go back. I’m not sure college is for me. Both my dad and my grandfather were career Marines. I joined right out of high school. Every time I encounter civilians, it's like we speak a different language. I get tired of explaining to everyone that not every military guy is a soldier," Gray grumbled.

I smiled. Marines were touchy about being referred to as soldiers. "Will obviously never had that problem."

“There are four branches of the military. Only one has soldiers.”

At Gray’s continued disgruntlement, I laughed out loud. “I know. Soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines.”

“Thank you.”

We sat there for a moment in companionable silence and for once I didn't feel the need to rush to say something. Even though he wasn’t touching me, I still felt a connection between the two of us. It could have been our shared experience but I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed just talking with someone. A transient thought niggled at the corner of my mind and I asked the question before I could give it much thought. "Have you lost anyone?"

"A couple guys early on. But not a spouse," he said quietly. "I get that that’s different."

His respectful tone made me feel somber. I looked out the window into the quiet night. There was little noise back here. The streets were illuminated by sporadic streetlights, and the only sound was the quiet rumble of the engine.

"A loss is a loss." I hated the measuring of grief.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

"If you have to ask the prefatory question then you already know the follow up is a bad idea."

He’d repositioned himself so his back was resting against the window showing no signs of wanting to leave. Strangely my early frustration had given way and I wasn’t anxious for the loss of his company either. Gray chewed on his thoughts for a moment and then asked his question anyway. "What's the hardest thing about being a widow?"

Ugh, seriously. I didn't want to talk about my sad situation with Gray anymore. I was beginning to feel like that poor young widow again instead of Sam, the girl Gray wanted to have coffee with—if only for a small window of time. Heaving an exasperated sigh, I leveled the most annoying military question ever at him. "Did you kill anyone?"

"Not even on the same level," he argued. I bet if I looked at him he'd have a pissy expression on his face.

Sighing, I gave in. "What do you want to know?"

"A pog in my platoon died during my second year. You know what a pog is?"

"In the rear with the gear. Persons other than grunts," I trotted out. I'd picked up some military lingo while Will was in. I'd wanted to be supportive and helpful even though I hadn't entirely agreed with his decision.

"Right, non-infantry. But damn good guys. Anyway, he had a young wife and a kid. I think she's twenty-three or twenty-four. Older than you, but not much. He died, and she was still around base. Everyone was super careful with her, and finally one day, she broke down at the PX and screamed that she's fine. Only obviously she isn't fine. Later I guess she goes home and swallows a bottle of pills and has to be taken to the ER."

I winced. "Horrible story."

"I knew him. I felt like he was one my guys even though he wasn’t a grunt." A genuine sorrow weighted his words.

“So you felt like she was partly your responsibility?"

"In some ways. I mean, there's a big support network for military widows around the base and I went to visit her, but I felt helpless. I wished I could've done more. Plus, because he died, she was going to have to move off the base anyway.”

His expression of regret tugged at me. "Maybe if you wrote her a letter about how vital a member of your platoon he’d been, she'd appreciate that," I suggested.

"Yeah, maybe." His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck again and he sighed. "Sorry for bringing it up."

"I've always thought that the girlfriends and fiancées had it worse." I wasn't sure why I was extending this topic.

"Why's that?" In the dim light I couldn't see his eyes but I felt them. He was not only listening to me but hearing me, and I understood him in return. My heart stretched toward him.

"Because they don't get the same consideration even though they were in love. I mean the difference between getting the funeral flag and the brass bullet casings was two months for me. Two months earlier and his mom would've gotten those things."

"So you feel guilty because you have them?"

"A little. Like I'm an imposter—like I don't deserve to grieve like others have. But I got the visit, the commemorative things, the people checking up on me." God, I couldn't believe I was sharing this stuff with him—this guy who I'd stared at, kissed, argued with. But he didn't turn away at all. He just kept looking and listening, like what I had to say really interested him.

"I never thought of it that way." He sat up but didn't stop looking at me. We were tethered now, our eyes hooked on each other. "So I shouldn't feel guilty for not following up with one? Or I should've checked up on more of them?"

"I don't think you should feel guilty either way, but if it bothers you, then you can do some things. Is it really your business? I hated it when Will had to explain why I wasn't going to move out to his base with him. I felt it was so intrusive."

"Anytime you have guys under you, their personal life is your business. It's a readiness issue. Is their head in the right frame of mind to go over?”

"That's really weird, isn't it?" I asked.

"Completely." He chuckled and then reached out to rub the worn leather steering wheel. I felt it too, like he was touching me, rubbing my arm in comfort. But it wasn't really enough. I wanted him to touch me again. "I appreciate you sharing with me, even though this must be a tough subject."

"When did you stop feeling grief over the loss of your friends?"

He gave me a sad smile. "Never. You never get over it. I lost them in the first year of deployment. Two guys, and I'll never forget them."

"Me either but that's good, right?"

"Damn straight." He moved his hand from the steering wheel to my face, tucking back the stray hairs that wouldn’t stay put. I held my breath because I wasn't certain if I wanted to shake his hand off or turn and taste his entire hand. I didn't have to decipher my feelings for more than a second because he allowed his hand to drop back into his own lap. My twinge of emotion was a mixture of regret and relief.

"What do you do when you aren't mixing drinks?" His question caught me off guard and I wished I could say something adventurous like “I teach skydiving.” At my hesitation, Gray wiggled an eyebrow. "Can't be that bad."

I released an embarrassed little laugh. "It's just so stereotypical. I might as well buy my red hat and dye my hair blue and call it a day."

"Now you're speaking another language."

"I knit," I admitted. "The most exciting thing I’ve ever done was to yarn bomb the lampposts at Central College's sculpture gardens."

"What's that? Throwing balls of yarn at something?"

"No, like putting sweaters on things secretly in the dark."

Silence.

"Not very adventurous, right?"

"Hell, who am I to judge?" he offered magnanimously. "It's creative."

I couldn't tell if he was interested or thought it was silly. "Not very exciting though, not like skydiving."

He shrugged. "You could've been caught."

"We had the administration's permission."

"Yeah, not very dangerous." He grinned at me and I caught a glimpse of white even teeth and crinkles around his eyes. It was a smile that made me feel warm and tingly inside. It made me want to smile back and so I did. "Knitting seems cool. Will you make me something?"

This made me laugh again. "That's everyone's response when I tell them I knit."

"Damn, I'm not very original. But does that mean no?"

"You don't think that it's a little dull?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "Has someone said that to you?"

"Not about knitting specifically. I'm just kind of a non-adventurous type of person. Will always said I kept him grounded." I always took it as a compliment as Will intended it to be.

Gray didn't comment on that, but instead he asked me, "What kind of things do you think are adventurous?"

"Jumping out of airplanes?" I peeked at him. Whatever had shadowed his thoughts earlier were gone. Instead, a mischievous smile was directed toward me, as if he had some grand idea. It made me smile in return.

“Jumping out of airplanes is good but there are a lot of other things we could do.”

We? I liked the sound of that. “Like what?”

He gave me a mysterious look. “Leave that up to me.”

“What happened earlier?”

The hand went back to the neck. Gray wasn’t very difficult to read but this time I didn’t think it was tension that made him grip his neck as much as it was embarrassment. “That was me being stupid and I’d like to make that up to you.”

Was that like an invitation for coffee? I couldn't figure it out, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to put the effort into mulling it over. I put the car into gear and coasted down Adam's driveway toward the house.

“I’m not agreeing to anything but if I did, what would I need to bring?”

“Wear sturdy boots. Shorts. T-shirt. Bring your knitting." He jumped out almost before I'd pulled to a complete stop leaving me with unanswered questions and an uncertain tomorrow.

I backed out and headed to my parents’ house. In the driveway, I pulled out my phone to text Eve. She was either sleeping, having sex with Randy, or winding down by watching some television. Hopefully the last one, because I wanted some more advice. I hadn’t been able to close the deal with Gray physically, but the car ride to Adam’s house wasn’t just meaningless small talk.

I asked him to coffee but he turned me down.

Way to go! And I'm SORRY! He's a douche. You are WAY too good for him. Where are you?

Oh, Eve, such a good friend.

Parents’ house. Took him up to my condo. We were friendly then he decided to go home. Guess he didn’t like the taste of my coffee.

I’ve had your coffee. You have great coffee. Randy says U should stay AWAY. Too Ducking dumb. God, I meant F UCKING. STUPID PHONE. R says guy who doesn't know a coffee invitation means sex can't find your C L I T anyway. STUPID PHONE typed CLOT.

He asked me to go on adventure with him tomorrow.

OH HE DID! He may be able to find the CLOT after all. UGH. U KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

He told me to wear sturdy boots, shorts, T-shirt, and to bring my knitting. Is that code for sex too?

There was no response right away. Had she passed out? Slipping out of the car, I headed into the house and to my bedroom. I was able to change, wash my face, and brush my teeth before I got a response.

We're STUMPED. R says he may be kinky bastard. May like outdoors sex. U be careful?

Should I stay home?

This time, she responded immediately. NO! was the immediate response. GO and tell me ALL DETAILS tomorrow night. Bring condoms. Never trust other person.

As I looked around my childhood bedroom, it occurred to me that I should’ve brought Gray here. There were no traces of Will in this room. My father had banned him from coming up here. Instead, Will and I had spent a lot of time in my parents’ basement, making out and sometimes even having furtive, not terribly satisfactory, sex. The fear of my parents catching us made it too hard for me to relax. I think the thrill worked the other way on Will. He always finished hard and fast. But that was Will, hard charging and thrill seeking. He said my more sedate pace was what kept him balanced and I kind of took pride in that. Being his anchor.

My dad thought that as long as we weren't doing it in my princess bed with its sheer white bed hangings I was still untouched. Ironically, my princess bedroom had become a haven, a place I could escape the suffocating memories of Will and me. I’d spent a lot of nights here right after Will died.

Pulling the pink gingham quilted coverlet back, I climbed inside and tucked an old teddy bear next to me. The image of Gray as he effortlessly held me up flitted through my brain but I didn't want to be having a fantasy about him tonight. As I allowed exhaustion to pull me under, I wondered if my attraction to him was based on the fact that he was military and he reminded me vaguely of Will even though the two looked nothing alike. Oh, Will. God, why did you leave me alone? And I was alone—and so, so tired of it. The pang in my chest felt vaguely like guilt, and when I closed my eyes, my aching loneliness soaked my pillow.