Beneath the Fallen Stars

“This isn’t one-sided,” I bite back defensively.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Ford,” he sighs. “She’s had a rough go of it, and then when she did finally feel like she might be moving on with life, forging her own path, she got knocked down again. If you want to be with her, she’s going to need your patience.”

“She has all of me.” Five small words, insignificant on their own but phrased together, they mean so much. They were out of my mouth before I could even process what I was saying, but I find that it’s true. How it happened in a week, I have no idea, but I’m not going to question it. I know that life is short and that you have to take each day, every encounter as an opportunity.

Meeting Shayne was my opportunity.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, brother,” Chad comments.

“Yep,” I reply, and he throws his head back in laughter.

“Back to one-word answers, I see.”

My lips twitch. “Fuck me. I didn’t think it would feel like this to walk away from her.”

“You can’t think of it like that. You’re going to work. Doing your job. If you both want this to work, you’re going to have to remember that.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“Just telling it as I see it. You’re not leaving her to just go travel the world because you feel like it. You’re doing the job you were trained to do, to defend our country. That’s a big deal.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?” I joke.

“Nah, I know we’re badass at what we do. Shayne knows it too. She’s not going to be Sara.”

And there it is. Mic drop. The route of the storm raging inside me. How can I expect her to wait for me?

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Ask her to wait for you?”

Shit. I must have said that out loud. “No.”

“Exactly. Shayne is a big girl, and she can think for herself if she wants this. If she wants to be with you, she’s going to have to be understanding that being in the army is your job. And you don’t want to be with someone who you have to ask them to wait for you. You want someone who will wait for you because they think you’re worth it. Because the thought of doing anything but waiting for you just isn’t possible in their mind.”

“And Shayne?” I hold my breath, waiting to hear his answer. I feel as though I know her, and she said she wanted this. That we were going to try and make this work, whatever it is that that looks like.

“Shayne is loyal and trustworthy. If you two are in this, if you decide to take this thing the distance, she’s going to be there when you come home.”

I don’t know why but hearing him say that has some of the tension leaving my body. I’ve fallen hard and fast, and admittedly, there is still so much we don’t know about one another. She still hasn’t shared with me the story of her past. She’s so terrified of me thinking differently of her. Whatever it is, is a huge part of who she is today. I could never look at her any other way than filled with adoration. It’s hard to trust without knowing what she’s holding back. However, at the same time, my gut tells me that with Shayne, what you see is what you get. I don’t see her writing me nasty letters telling me that I ruined her life and that waiting was never an option.

Chad’s right. She’s not Sara.

She’s everything.

We’re about ten minutes away from my parents’ place. Chad’s still driving, refusing to let me take a turn, which is fine. I don’t mind occupying the passenger seat. It’s given me more time to daydream about Shayne. Speaking of Shayne, opening up the message icon on my phone, I send her a message.

Me: Almost home. About ten minutes out.

Shayne: You made good time.

Me: Chad has a lead foot.

Shayne: This I know.

Me: Have a good night at work.

Shayne: I’ll try.

Me: I miss you already.

Shayne: I miss you too.

Me: Call me when you get home?

Shayne: Yes.

Satisfied that I’m going to talk to her in a few hours, I slide my phone back into my pocket. “Turn right up ahead,” I instruct Chad. Not that he needs it. The GPS had guided us this far. As soon as we pull into the driveway, the front door opens, and out steps my family. My parents, my twin sister, Faith, and my grandparents. The car is barely stopped before I’m pushing open the door and racing toward them.

Faith is the closest, so I wrap her in my arms, lifting her off her feet. We might be twins, but she’s still tiny at five-foot five compared to my six-two. “Ford!” she screeches in my ear, but I don’t stop spinning.