I know it’ll be a long four fucking years if my head isn’t on straight, and some days it feels like every single day is a cold Monday morning. But I have Mags to pull me through.
We expected this to be difficult, with my nights being her mornings, but I hadn’t thought it would bethishard.
I fall asleep from exhaustion before she’s even done with her performance for the night. I wake up in the morning with a voicemail from her and try to call her before work, only to get a recording. She’s up and gone for the day by the time I get out of work.
The time between each call stretches more and more. The conversations often run tense. She’s having the time of her life in France. Even though I’ve heard her talk about dance since we were little kids, most of the technical words run in one ear and out the other. All I know is that she’s busier than ever, spending additional time in rehearsals and tutoring sessions, trying to prove that she deserves a coveted permanent spot in their company.
When we do get a quick minute to talk, we reminisce of my visit to France, of being able to switch out my combat boots for cowboy boots and pretend like we were back at home.
We spent as much time as we could together. I met her new roommates and got to sit in the audience to watch her dance on stage for the first time in a long time.
She was breathtaking, as usual, making something so physically demanding and painful look lightweight. Easy.
We spent time with one of her roommates, Raymond, and his partner, Ronaldo. They’re both from the U.S. as well but have lived in France for a few years. Raymond started in the same junior ballet Mags is in now, and I’m so happy she met someone who is willing to help her, to watch over her.
They forced me to try all the local cuisine. I had imagined French people mostly ate bread and snails or something, but I loved everything I ate. Coq au vin, steak frites, ratatouille, and as much chocolate mousse as we could find. I told Mags that when I’m done with the Marines, I’m not going back to Copper Ridge. I’m going to move to Paris with her and spend the majority of my days eating.
We visited the beach, and I lay in the sand, lazily napping as she read a book. We’d eat together, shower together, and she’d fall asleep while I rubbed her feet at the end of every day. Raymond and Ronaldo asked us the same question people back home used to always ask—don’t you get sick of each other?
My answer is always no. I’ve never needed a break from Mags. She’s always been my best friend, the person I want to laugh with, the person I want to tease, the person I want to sit in comfortable silence with. There isn’t a soul out there I could possibly love more than her.
I was able to clear my mind when I was with her. To live in the moment and not think about what might have been loomingahead of me. It wasn’t until the night before my flight back to the States when Magnolia noticed the change in my mood.
She pulled me into bed, we stripped off our clothes, and she draped the blanket over us to shield us from the outside world. She curled herself against my side, laid her cheek along my bicep, and there, under the darkness of her duvet, with no one around to hear us, I told her my fears, my worries. About the Marine Corps and future deployments. I told her with my words, with every kiss, that I’m sorry for the distance, for the bickering, for the strain it’s put on our relationship. I told her all the thoughts that keep me up at night when I’m away … all the thoughts I’ve never been able to tell anyone but her.
The summer months came, and during her off-season, we met up in Copper Ridge. My time was more limited there, only getting a few days while she was able to stay for several weeks. It was almost like nothing had changed, like we were still kids, sneaking around the farm for privacy even though we’re plenty old enough now.
We’d saddle up the horses and ride them out into the far pastures, lying on a blanket in the tall grass, staring up at the puffy white clouds.
I made love to her out there, knowing that we were so secluded, so far away from the outside world, it was like we were in our own private bubble. I convinced her to skinny dip in the cold creek, and her shrieks carried in the wind, only to be heard by the cattle that watched us curiously.
I tried to soak in those moments, knowing that I’d need them to carry me through the next few years, knowing that a deployment was likely on the horizon. Her schedule is only going to get more intense the more she grows in her career. The months we spent not talking while I was in boot camp might become our norm, and that’s the part that scares me the most.
CHAPTER 16
Lukas
TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD
“Hey, this is Magnolia. Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
I tilt my head back, cursing up at the dimly lit sky. We planned this call. I texted her yesterday that I needed to talk to her. She said she had a break in between morning and afternoon rehearsal, so I got up with the sun and started my day before the color broke over the horizon. I woke up nearly giddy, excited to hear her voice, but when her voicemail beeps, the frustration builds.
“Hey, baby, it’s me. Just uh … hoping I could catch you. I really need to talk to you, I—” The phone beeps twice in my ear, and when I pull it away, my breathing hitches when I see Magnolia calling me back.
I fumble as I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear while I start to pace. “Magnolia?”
“Baby!” she screams, and I release a choked laugh. “I’m so sorry I missed your call! Today has been insane. It’s not even dinner time, and I’ve already had company practice and a dress rehearsal. I have like, two minutes to chat before getting some food in me. I’m wiped out, but that’s not new.” She pauses to inhale a much-needed breath at the end of her sentence, and Iwish I could share her enthusiasm. I know she’s excited to be where she’s at. She’s climbing to the top of her field; the years and years of hard work and dedication are finally paying off. And I’m excited for her, I am. But there’s something else, too. Something darker.
Jealousy, maybe. Jealous that she’s living her dream, rising to the top just like I was before I was injured.
“So, anyways, I’m sorry I missed your call, but I’m glad I caught you. What’s up? What’s going on?”
I take in a heavy breath, not knowing where to start or how to say what I need to say. “I’m glad, baby. I miss you, but I’m so happy you are getting this chance.”
Her unexpected pause tells me I didn’t sound as excited as I meant to.
“What’s going on, Lukas? Are you alright?”
