“You can’t think of anything that’s good in your own life?”
No. “You are my life.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She reached into the pocket of her hoodie and tossed something on the table. I stared at the pink plus sign for so long it started to blur.
“Jude?”
“Baby,” I croaked. The bitter bile of self-loathing burned the back of my throat. The diamond on her finger caught the light from the kitchen window as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. I’d proposed to her two Christmases ago. On bended knee, I’d promised to always love her, to never leave her, and to always strive to be the best man I could be for her. I’d promised her the world and I had yet to deliver.
My eyes met hers and I saw the fear and the worry circling in their green depths on what should have been a happy occasion. I stood up from the table and pulled her out of the chair and into my arms. She held on tightly, her cheek pressed against my chest, and I closed my eyes and made her promises I prayed I could keep.
“I won’t let you down again, Rebel. I promise I’ll be there for you. Every step of the way.” I kissed the top of her head and she pulled away, tipping her face up. “I love you, Rebel. I love you so fucking much.”
“Are you happy about this? I mean... I know it’s not the best timing but...”
“It’s always a good time for a baby. We’re having a baby.”
“Yeah, we are.” Worry had her gnawing on her bottom lip. “Do you think it’s too much too soon?”
“No. I want it all.” And I did. I wanted this baby. I wanted us to be a family. Everything would be better. I would be better. “But you need to eat your breakfast. I’ll make a new omelet, okay? How about a stack of pancakes? You know what? I’ll just make everything.”
She laughed a little. “An omelet is good. Don’t go overboard.”
“Ask me the question again.”
“What’s good in your life, Jude?”
“Same answer as before. You.” I dipped my head and kissed her softly. Gently. Like she was made of glass and would shatter if I pressed too hard. It was Lila who deepened the kiss and sunk her teeth into my bottom lip. My girl. She was a fighter.
“Next time you decide to fuck me, don’t forget to bring me along for the ride.”
“You’re my ride or die, baby. I’ll never leave you behind.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jude
I’m crossing a field of poppies in Afghanistan. I’m in front, Reese right behind me. Up ahead, I see the boy. Today he has a cell phone in his hand. He grins at me before he darts away. I know I should report it but I don’t. He’s just a kid, no more than ten or twelve. Why would an innocent kid report our position to the Taliban?
Only a few minutes later, we’re walking down a road when the shooting starts. I duck behind a wall, taking cover. I’m shouting at Reese but it’s too late. He falls to the ground, and I leave my cover, crawling toward him. An AK is pointed at me.
I lift my rifle and get him in my sights. I pull the trigger and I shoot him. The boy’s eyes widen as he falls to the ground. When I look again, it’s not a boy, it’s a baby. Belly down, I drag myself across the blood-soaked dirt. A bullet whizzes over my head and kicks up a cloud of dust right next to me. I don’t even see the next shot being fired or where it’s coming from but I feel it. My face is in the dirt and I’m choking on it. I feel like I’ve been bashed in the head with a baseball bat.
Everything goes eerily quiet but I can still hear the call to prayer from the mosque. Lifting my head, I blink the sweat from my eyes and try to adjust my blurry vision.
I’m shouting, Reese needs help, but nobody hears me.
Pressing my dirt-caked hand over Reese’s neck, I try to staunch the bleeding. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re going to be okay.”
“Can I get a Hail Mary?” His voice is garbled. Blood runs from his mouth like a river.
“You’re going to be okay.” I keep repeating the words, telling him that everything is going to be okay but I know it won’t.
Reese’s eyes stare blankly at the blue Afghan sky.
But it’s not Reese. And it’s not the boy or the Talib I just shot and killed. It’s a baby with green eyes and dark hair.
I get to my feet and I stagger back a step, my boot planted firmly on the ground. My blood runs cold and I’m covered in sweat. I know it was a mistake. I look down just before the IED explodes.
I jolted upright, my pulse racing and my heart pounding. Panic clawed its way up my throat, goosebumps raising the hairs on my sweat-slicked skin.
I was dying. I was going to die. All the air was trapped in my lungs and a freight trained raced through my head. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“Jude. You’re okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.” She kept repeating it until the words reached my ears and I did as she said, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen then release it. Since when had breathing become so difficult?
I leaned my back against the headboard and closed my eyes, spent and exhausted. “Did I hurt you?” I
