“Wow. Tell me, am I dreaming? Because it would suck if I opened my eyes right now and I was in my bed and none of this was happening.”
“It’s not a dream. It’s real.”
“Leo,” I murmur as he steps closer, pulling me into a hug, kissing my forehead as he does. I wrap my arms around him, too, and we stand there, just holding one another, losing track of time.
A seagull flies too close to us, breaking the spell, and we step back, not letting go, but holding hands.
“Let me give you a ride home?” he asks.
I nod. “That’d be great. I walked here. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
“That it was only seven blocks?”
He smiles, and I smile back. The smiles are real. They’re the ones Jack and Jill shared that night. They’re the ones Leo and Jillie will share from now on.
“If you hadn’t bumped into me, when were you going to tell me all of this?”
He holds my hand as he drives. Swoon. I may never stop smiling. This is the best moment of my life.
“I was going to stop over later today. I know you’re not a morning person.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“I know. You told me that night,” he says, then squeezes my hand gently.
Leo sees them before I do. He slows down and it’s then that I look up. My heart falls to the ground.
“No.” It’s barely a whisper, but he hears it.
“Jillie, wait for me,” he says when he parks the car.
He hurries around to open my door, helping me out because I’m frozen.
“No.”
“Let’s see what’s going on. It might be nothing.”
It’s something. It’s something bad. It’s something so bad it’s going to destroy me.
Aunt Ruthie opens the door just as I’m coming up the walk, the uniformed Marines having just rung the bell.
“No.”
“Jillian Fox?” they ask Aunt Ruthie. Her expression is one of sorrow and horror. She points to me.
“Jillian?” they ask.
I nod.
“I’m…” I can’t hear what he’s saying. The heartbeat in my ears is too loud. “Colonel Ezra Fox… IED… suicide bomber…”
“No.”
“Jillie,” Leo says, holding me up as I begin to sink to my knees. I can’t see past my tears. I can’t hear anything but my heart beating so loudly as it breaks into a million pieces. I let out an anguished scream.
I can’t…
“I,” fight for breath, “can’t…”
