"No." He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. "I’m not going to Germany, and I’m not staying. My promotion came with a transfer. I’m joining a unit at Fort Bragg.”
“Fort Bragg, isn’t that in North Carolina, near your parents? Your mom will be happy." I force enthusiasm into my voice because I still don't know what he's thinking. "I could see if I can finish my last term there and thenwe—"
“I won’t be at Fort Bragg very long.”
He sounds so serious that I’m afraid to ask, but I do. "Why not?"
“The unit I’m joining is deploying to Iraq six weeks after I get there. I’m going too.”
I pull my hand from his and cover my mouth. “No.” I shake my head. “No.” I stand and stumble a couple of steps away from him. I can't process what he just said. I can’t let him go. I can’t lose him. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. He comes behind me. I turn and wrap my arms around him. He kisses my forehead, and I lean against his chest, my tears soaking into his T-shirt.
"I'm sorry. I should have warned you this was a possibility. I know guys who are already on their third tour in Iraq.” He leans back so I’m looking in his eyes. There’s a fire there that I haven’t seen for a long time. He cups my chin. "Marry me, Jess. Before I go or after I get back, it doesn't matter. I just want to be with you. I just want you to be mine."
I step out of his arms. "No." There's more strength behind the word than I thought I had left.
He looks thunderstruck. "No? You don't want to marry me?"
"No. I don't want you to go to Iraq. I just got you back. I don’t want to spend the next year waiting and worrying.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders. "It will be okay. It's only a year, and things have settled down some. Iraq isn't as dangerous as it once was."
My heart clenches in fear, anger rises in my chest and comes out in my voice. “Do people still die there? Can you guarantee that you'll be coming back?"
“No. But you can’t guarantee that you won’t get hit by a bus tomorrow.”
I step away from him, wanting to protect myself, wanting to push him away. “You’re right. There are no guarantees. So we shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep.”
He closes his eyes. “Jess, don’t do this. You’re upset. We both are. We should–”
“No.” It comes out with more force than the first time. “They can’t make you go again. Tell them you won’t go.”
His voice is calm, but with an undercurrent of irritation. “I don’t have a choice, you know that."
"You do have a choice. You're not a slave to the Army. Michael didn't have to go to Iraq."
His name makes Jacob's lips tighten. "I'm not Lieutenant Stephens."
I know I'm pushing it, but I can't stop myself. "Your brother was killed in Iraq. Isn't there someSaving Private Ryanclause you can invoke? We could go to the media, ask them to—"
"No." His no is even more forceful than mine was. I step back. His voice is full of a conviction I’ve never seen before. "I took an oath. I gave my word. I'm not going back on that."
I ask the question I know isn’t fair. "Not even for me?”
He shakes his head. "No. And that you're even asking me…that you ever thought I would… shows me you don't know me at all."
Too late, I realize I pushed him too far.
“You knew who I was when we got together. You knew how important this is to me. You knew, Jess. Don’t act like any of this is a surprise. If you want me, really want me, then you have to take everything I am and that means accepting that I’m a soldier first.”
I shake my head. I can’t accept that. I can’t let him go for another year, knowing he might not be coming back. “It was just a dream, wasn’t it? I loved you, and you loved me. We were together, and wethought we could live happily ever after, but that’s not how the world works, is it?”
His righteous indignation dissipates. It’s replaced with a kind of anguished resolution. “You’re right. This won't work. I can’t go back on my word, not for you, not for anyone. I love you with everything I have, but that’s never going to be enough for you. I can’t give you what you want. I’ve already given too much of myself to the Army.”
My chest hurts. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe it’s time to admit defeat. I can’t make you happy. I can’t be the man you want me to be. I should step aside and let someone else try.”
I stare at him for a long time, afraid to move, afraid to say anything. The muscles in his jaw work, but the rest of his face could be made of stone. I pushed him too far. This is really over. I take the earrings out of my ears and press them into his hand.
