I nod, knowing I’m pretty lost right now.
“Leave it all behind. Whatever drama or loved ones you have back home, you need to leave it there. If you want to make it and do well, you have to give it your all.” There’s a seriousness in his tone, and I wonder how much of it he’s saying for me and how much he’s saying for himself.
Our ride pulls in front of us, and we both stand, grabbing our luggage. “Thanks. I’m Clayton.” I stick my hand out to shake his.
His hand grabs mine as he says, “Mitch.”
RYLEE: THEN
Rylee: 18 years old
Days go by where I don’t leave my bed. My mom brings me food on a tray, but I don’t have an appetite. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and I know my parents are worried. I’m worried. There’s been no word from Clayton. His mom says that he’s going through boot camp and might not be able to get word out past the first phone call, stating he made it.
Time feels like it’s standing still as I sit looking out the window of my bedroom. A glimpse of my reflection, staring back at me. My sunken eyes, matted hair, and defined cheekbones are all I find. I no longer see the happy girl I was months ago as he pulled up to take me to school, for a run, to a football game, to get food, or to just drive. I’m now the girl who can’t remember the last time she smiled or the last time she even heard the sound of her own voice. My mind plays different scenarios on repeat of different life-ending possibilities. Something horrible could really happen to him, and I let him leave. My heart aches.
A light rapping on my door, and I blink back tears forming in the corners. “Sweetie, Mrs. Daniels called.” My mom’s voiceis soft and cautious as she speaks. “She wanted you to know that he made it through boot camp.”
I can’t remember the last time I heard his name, and I know seeing me like this is killing my mom. I know she’s grasping at straws, struggling to find something to snap me back into myself. What she doesn’t know is that I applied to a college in California and was accepted. I got my late admission acceptance letter in an email, and I’m moving across the country. I need to go and get away from all the memories that flood me here. My future was so thoroughly planned out, and now, I can’t think about that future without crumbling.
28
CLAYTON: THEN
Clayton:18 years old
Dear Mom,
I’ve met some pretty great people at Camp Pendleton. They have my back, and I know that will give you a little relief while I’m here. Our drill instructor is strict, but I’m learning a lot from him. I can see how much he wants us to learn and be the best we can be. I’ve told a few of my friends here about you, and they’re always ragging on me that I’m a momma’s boy.
The food isn’t bad. They want to make sure we bulk up, but I miss your cooking every day.
I hope you understandwhy I had to do this. I know it hurts you, and I’m sorry for that. I can’t be anything like him, and it feels like this is where I need to be.
I still have ten more weeks of infantry training. Running has been a big part of our training, so it’s nice to still have that consistency in my daily life. I’m sending a few pictures so you can see my life here. The weather in California is nicer than I expected.
Make sure to show the twins because I don’t want them to forget me while I’m gone.
Please write and tell me . . . how is she?
Love you,
Clay
29
RYLEE:NOW
Stretching my body,my head pounds, and I open my eyes but immediately pinch them closed from the bright light filtering through the windows. I groan and clutch my head as I roll onto my back, bumping into something hard and warm. I freeze. Slowly, I turn my head and glance over my shoulder. I’m met with a bare, sculpted chest, and my heartbeat kicks up a notch. My eyes trail up the body and over many scars to his face, finding Clayton. He’s relaxed with his mouth slightly open. His chest moves with his breathing, and his hand relaxes on my hip. The sheets are draped around his stomach, so I can’t see if he has anything on. I throw the sheets up, checking myself and see only my black lace bra and matching thong.
I squeeze the sheets against my chest and rack my brain for memories of last night. I remember the dancing and feeling on top of the world in his arms. I could feel the effect I had on him, which only made me want him more. It felt great to be wanted. But I don’t remember how I got back to my house, or where my clothes are. I’m attempting to remain calm, but my head aches, and dread fills my body. I glance at him as I slowly slide off the bed, pausing every few inches. When my feet touchthe floor, I stand up, letting the bedding fall. I sway as the pounding increases in my head.
“Ry?” Clayton’s gravely voice startles me.
I spin around, making the room spin more. I grab my robe, draped across the foot of my bed, and clutch it to my chest to hide as much of my body as possible.
Clayton watches me with amusement. “Everything okay?”
“Excuse me?” I narrow my eyes at him.
