We fall silent for a few moments, just taking each other in, goofy grins spread across our faces, acting like no time has passed and as if this isn’t our very first time meeting face-to-face.
“Things worked out for both of us, I guess. Are you glad you enlisted?”
He nods, “Re-upping my contract felt right. There wasn’t much waiting for me back home in the States.”
I want to shout that I was here, that I could have used his friendship or even a response to my letters when I was graduating high school, trying to navigate things like singing contracts, moving to Los Angeles and feeling out of place while I figured out my identity, but despite his presence missing from my life, I’d done it all, and well. On my own. Maybe that was what I needed, to go through the struggle without having a guiding hand there to talk me through it. Now I wondered if he ever got the angry letter I wrote in Croatia and if I should even bring it up.
“So…” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a strange sense of nervousness. “You wouldn’t have happened to receive a more recent letter from me—say…a few months ago, with some angry words in it?”
His face is unreadable as he assesses me carefully.
“Not if you didn’t want me to.”
Shit.
“I can explain…”
He raises his hand. “You don’t have to, Dove, and honestly, I’d prefer if you didn’t tell me about the guy that you’re in love with. I get it, and I’m happy for you. I deserved whatever you said. It wasn’t right for me to leave without giving you an address to write to or a proper goodbye. I can’t remember exactly what I wrote in my last note, but I’m sure it wasn’t respectful of the friendship we’d built and the way you’d encouraged me. I was a pretty selfish guy before boot camp and had to learn I wasn’t good at everything—and the meaning of true sacrifice. I just hope the guy you’re in love with isn’t that tool from when you were a teenager who sucked at kissing.”
I laugh, remembering my high school boyfriend, Henrik. I might have dated him for a few short months, but I’d known nothing was ever going to amount to it. He’d been too focused on himself, not supportive of my budding singing hobby and nothing likemy pen pal Dallas.
“No, it’s not Henrik.”
The reality is, it’s no one, but I keep that to myself for now.
I’m not actually in love or dating for that matter. I wrote that letter confessing things that weren’t true because after spending that night with the mysterious Marine, I realized my heart had long belonged to a boy named Dallas. I knew deep down he was no longer a part of my life, and it was time to let go of that friendship—and of him.
And I thought I had.
But seeing him standing in front of me tonight, right here in my hometown, has brought back all those old feelings of friendship and trust. It’s like I know him intimately, and he knows me, yet at the same time, he’s a complete stranger. I want to fall into easy conversation, bring up old inside jokes and laugh but I don’t really know him. At least, not anymore.
He stretches his arms overhead, twisting side to side, causing the muscles beneath his shirt to ripple, reminding me of how good it felt to have my body pressed against his earlier.
Before I knew he was Dallas...
I shiver remembering the intimacy of the moments we’ve already spent together shrouded by the darkness of the elevator. If I could have gone back, what would I have done differently?
“So,” he says, watching me carefully again.
“So…”
“What do you have planned for Thanksgiving?”
“We typically celebrate with my parents at the ranch. Lay low. It’s nice for me to act like a normal person when I’m home. Though I guess I already told you that today…”
He nods. “I bet it is.”
“What are you doing for the holiday? You said you weren’theading home to spend it with you parents?”
“I planned to spend it with the Camerons at Ashwood Ranch. I just saw my parents a few months ago, and there’s a lot I need to do on my farm.”
I raise a brow. “You and Wylie are close? What was that about you saving his life?”
He chuckles, “It’s a long story I’ll have to tell you sometime, but yes, after starting off on rocky ground, we’ve become friends.”
“Nowthat’sa story I want to hear,” I say playfully, slipping back into the feeling of being old buddies with shared inside jokes. And I guess, in a very strange and complicated way, we sort of are.
“I know it wasn’t fair to hide my identity from you in the elevator, but honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It gave me the chance to see who you are now, without any pretenses, Dove.”
