Dear Killian (Love Letters 1)

Dearest Killian,

I’m sorry your men had to see that. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be in combat. Let alone have to guide the freshman through the fire. I admire you and Gage on that front for sure. I’m too soft for anything like that. Give me ice cream and screaming eight year olds any day of the week.

I’m glad you shared with Gage, though this time I included a few things special for you. I hope you enjoy. I’m glad you like my picture, I must say it was hard to find one that was even remotely flattering. The camera and I do not agree.

The photo you sent me is exactly how I’ve imagined you in my mind. The little bit of salt in your hair is very appealing. I have a feeling you’re going to be much taller than I anticipate and I’ll feel like a smurf. I’m barely five feet tall so it’s not hard to do. I must admit you are very handsome in your dress blues. Was that a ceremony you were posing for? You looked so serious.

Will the Navy allow me to be waiting for you, when I’m not a listed family member? My father may be in the Navy but I can’t begin to understand how non-family stuff goes. Though I suppose I could ask him and suffer through the Spanish Inquisition and subsequent lecture. I wonder if you two might know each other. Maybe I’ll get the courage to ask him one of these days.

I can imagine you’re counting down the days until you leave. Do you miss home? The conveniences that I probably take advantage of most? I think I’d miss long hot showers and clean water more than anything.

I’ve got tests and papers to grade tonight. Fun and exciting, I know. I did have the children write letters to other soldiers, and for the most part they really enjoyed it. Some have even taken to keep on writing to them, and I must say I couldn’t be prouder of those who did.

See you on the tarmac.

Stay safe.

Always yours,

Jersey girl

When she says she had something special in there for me she wasn’t lying. Rifling through the contents, I see a few pictures of her. In different states of dress. Or rather undress.

“Holy fuck,” I murmur. Quietly looking around to make sure no one else can see.

Sheer black teddy that only gives a hint of her skin and the delicacies hidden beneath. Another of her peaking back over her shoulder, naked from the waist up.

I think drool might be dripping from my chin as I stare at her photos. Nothing is overly revealing, just hint enough for me to know she’s as interested in me as I am her.

Stashing the photos back in the envelope they’d come in, I prepare to write her yet another letter. Describing in great detail the things I’d love to do to her. The ways I want to be with her.

An explosion on base interrupts my plans as war breaks out and I don’t get to write to my Jersey girl again.

Chapter Eight

Jersey

He’s supposed to be home now. I wonder daily about him. After the pictures I sent to him I never heard back. Every time I think about him my heart squeezes so tight I can’t breathe. I’m terrified I ruined everything between us. That I took it too far.

His picture is all I have to hold onto. His tall frame makes me wish I could feel his arms wrapped around me, assuring me everything’s alright. His eyes, those soulful green eyes–how I wish they would eat me up as I meet him on the tarmac.

School has been out for a month and all I have time to do is think about what I could have done wrong. That maybe I had misread the situation. Now as I eat what feels like the tenth gallon of Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream, I know I shouldn’t have sent those pictures.

I wish I could take it back.

Talking to Killian gave me more joy than I had ever imagined. He became a friend I could confide in. Something I lacked in my life.

I’ve thought about finding another soldier to write to, the only problem is I don’t think I could handle another emotional connection like we had, only to lose it so suddenly.

I feel so selfish about the entire thing. So many bad scenarios have run through my mind about what could have happened to him that the most favorable is I’ve scared him off. It’s preferable to him being injured or worse yet, dead.

I couldn’t handle either of those alternatives.

My ringing phone drags me from the terrifying thoughts as I grab it from the table in front of me. Answering with some action flick in the background, explosions all around. “Hello?”

“Jersey,” my dad’s voice booms through the line, “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I sigh. Wishing with everything in me that it was Killian. “How are you?”