“Izzy and I met on a plane,” I say. “Didn’t know it was her at first, but my heart knew. It always knew.”
“Damn. First love.”
“Yeah. This time, it stuck.”
CJ tries to laugh, but he’s shaking. So am I. I can’t afford a mistake.
“All right,” I say at last. “CJ, on my count, you're going to slowly shift your weight off the mine and run. Don’t look back.”
“Wait, what are you using as weight?”
I show him the hair tie. “This. It’s the only thing I trust more than myself right now.”
“Nathan, no. I’m not leaving you?—”
“It’s a damn order, Lieutenant!”
Silence.
“Yes, sir.”
He bolts. And I move just as fast. The pressure holds.
One-thousandth, two-thousandths, three-thousandths, four-thousandths, five-thousandths. I throw myself to the ground while it explodes.
The shockwave slams into me like a freight train. Heat. Noise. Light. Pain. My ears ring. The ground drops away. The sky spins.
Then—darkness.
I hear CJ screaming. His voice is far away. Wet. Full of panic.
“Weister, open your eyes! You son of a bitch, open your eyes!”
I try.
Shapes blur. His face. Hands. Blood. Slapping me awake.
“You lucky bastard,” he says, voice breaking. “I gotta thank Isabel for this. She saved our ass.”
I try to smile. I want to. But the world’s slipping away again.
“I need two blood units, now! We gotta move, or he’s gone!”
Everything fades—sound, pain, fear. It all vanishes.
Chapter 24
Isabel
Not hearing from Nate wears me out in ways I can't explain. It’s like my heart is a violin string pulled too tight—one wrong move, and it’ll snap. I try to focus all my energy on fundraising, on work, on anything that will keep my hands busy and my thoughts from spiraling. But that bad feeling… it clings to me like a shadow. I keep brushing it off, calling myself dramatic, but it’s there. Constant. Heavy.
I never understood how soldiers’ wives endured the wait. The not-knowing. The silence. Now, I do. They have all my respect—because this limbo is torture. Two months. That’s how long it’s been since I hugged Nate. His calls and text were my lifeline but that didn’t make life easy. Sixty-two nights of staring at the ceiling, clutching a pillow, and wondering if he’s under the same stars. Sixty-two days of smiling in public and screaming in silence.
This morning, I woke up shaking. My T-shirt was damp with sweat, and I was tangled in the sheets like I’d fought something in my sleep. A nightmare? Or was I just cold? Either way, the moment I opened my eyes, dread sat on my chest like a weight. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones, in the tremble of my fingers as I hold my coffee, untouched and cold hours later. I can’t eat either—my stomach’s in knots.
And yet, I have to function. Tonight is the fundraiser for the Women’s Anti-Violence Centre. I’ve poured so much into this cause—because I know what it's like to feel small, to feel voiceless, to feel scared. The statistics this year are horrific. Too many women who were silenced. Too many stories ending in pain. I want to give them their voices back. I want to fight for them, like Nate fights for our country.
Cindy has been incredible. We were thrown together by circumstance, but she’s become a sister to me. We’ve built something strong, something beautiful. Her presence is comforting—calm but firm, like a lighthouse in the middle of this emotional storm.
