 by Marie James.jpg)
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76172 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76172 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
The connection we shared through her brother was severed when he died in combat.
Their parents were adamant that I never reach out to them again.
I forgot about the pact I made, my promise to make her mine if I wasn’t married by thirty.
The only answer I had for her when she showed up with that handwritten note was no.
Only Devyn Malloy isn’t the type to take no for an answer.
Cerberus welcomed her with open arms, but as that became enough for her, I realized it might not be enough for me…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Legacy
11 Years Ago
My vision grows hazy as I lift my eyes to the horizon. I’ve been in a dreamlike state for the better part of two weeks. It’s not that I’m in denial, but things still just don’t seem real.
My eyes are dry, the only pair without tears in the very large gathering. I try not to feel anger at some of the sobbing people standing around. A lot of people would see that anger as misplaced. How could I have a clue who Vaughn touched in his lifetime? Maybe he had a relationship with the girl to my left. Maybe he knew the lady from the grocery store better than I realized.
But none of that is possible. Until two weeks ago, I spent literally a part of every single day of the last ten years with the guy. I went on vacation with his family. He went on vacation with mine. We knew everything about each other. I knew who he spoke with, who he spent time with, who he liked and disliked.
I knew he was missing home. I knew he was regretting listening to me in the first place. I knew he only joined the Marine Corps because I did. I made it sound so awesome, and as best friends, we didn’t want to be separated.
Only now, instead of spending a handful of years to fulfill the obligation to my family I was raised to believe was required, I’ll spend the rest of my life without him.
I swallow against the lump threatening to form in my throat, my dress blues suddenly scratchy against my skin. The irritation makes me want to reach for the letter again.
Every one of us was told to write one, to give it to someone we trust to deliver it if the unthinkable happened.
I almost scoff at the thought. The unthinkable—risking your life isn’t so unthinkable when you head face-first into gunfire. Taking every precaution doesn’t guarantee safety when the opposition is readily willing to die at all costs.
The preacher continues to speak, his words about Vaughn true and marked with his own pain and grief. He knew Vaughn as much as anyone who saw him nearly every Sunday, growing up, could. His words aren’t generic the way many are at funerals, the officiant speaking from things told by family. It’s as genuine as possible.
My best friend is gone, his life taken long before it should’ve been.
My platoon mates were grieving when I was given leave to attend today. They were quick to tell me it wasn’t my fault. The chances of Vaughn losing his life on a random, routine scouting mission were statistically low.
Low.
I heard the word more times than I can count. Yet here I am, back home in Bumfuck, Nebraska, staring at the glossy black box that’s holding less of my best friend than it did when we left home less than a year ago.
How could I have known that this would happen when I ended up with food poisoning that night and Vaughn took my place on patrol? A million things had to have lined up for this to occur.
It didn’t help then, and it doesn’t help now.
Mr. and Mrs. Malloy won’t even look in my direction. They made it very clear yesterday that they blame me fully.
Being a Marine was never Vaughn’s dream until I mentioned my requirement at twelve. Like everything else, my best friend fully committed to the idea. If I was going, he was going too. I didn’t even have to ask. It was a foregone conclusion. Where I went, he went, and vice versa. Our lives had been like that since the day we met when my family moved to Broken Bow the summer before third grade.
I clench my hands to keep from reaching for the letter stuffed in my pocket. The tone of it doesn’t match the emotions of the group. It’s lively and upbeat, his requests childish and not carrying the weight of him actually being gone. He asks me to erase his browser history because there’s no need for his mom to know he’s into anime porn. He demanded that I tell Adrienne that he never really liked her. Something I know is a lie because he spoke of her often. The girl backed out of prom a week before the big day and it has chapped his ass every day since.
The final part of the letter, the only thing that was serious, was less of a request and more of an assumption. He told me to continue to love his family the way I always have. They saw me as a son, and it wasn’t fair for them to lose both of theirs, unless, of course, we both died together. Honestly, he thought that’s what would happen because we did everything together.