Page 97 of We'll Meet Again

“I think maybe…I’m asking something of you that you aren’t able to give,” he said. “And that ain’t exactly wrong, but maybe it means that you and I just…aren’t a good fit for each other.”

Alarm jolted through her chest like it was a defibrillator. This couldn’t be happening. She had somehow managed, despite her best efforts, to even make Ethan pull away from her. Part of her was clawing through that wall, desperate to let him in, while another part of her screamed to put it back and protect her from this pain.

“Don’t,” she barely managed to say. “Don’t do this.”

He sniffled. “I think I’ve got to.”

“Ethan -”

“Billie, I care about you too much to let you trap yourself with me,” he said. “Shoot, I may even love you. And sometimes that means letting something go.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening. She tried to draw breath, but her lungs felt too tight.

“Please,” she said. “I’ll try. Really, I will. I’ll come to the funeral, just don’t do this.”

“Billie,” he said gently, but she shook her head again. She didn’t want to hear her name, she wanteddarlin’. Now more than she ever had. “It wasn’t an ultimatum, I don’t want you to come if you feel this strongly that you shouldn’t.”

“I changed my mind.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“Ethan, please.” Was she begging? She wasn’t sure, but she did know she had never so fiercely wanted a man tonotleave her. Peter, Greg, and all the others, she had let walk out the door without protest. But Ethan… “Let me show you I can do this.”

“That’s just the thing, I don’t want you to feel backed into a corner,” he said. “I want you towantto go. Towantto be there with me. Not because you have to, but because you chose it.”

“I’m choosing it now!” she insisted.

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Billie. I wish things were different.”

She sucked in a breath. This couldn’t be happening. It was crumbling and it was all her fault. She should have been braver. Why didn’t she just agree to go to the damn funeral? Why had she let it come to this? She fucked it all up. And now her heart…was actually breaking. She could practically feel it splitting right down the middle.

His warm hand on her face made her look up to meet his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes she had come to adore. To love. Fuck, she loved him. She loved him and she let her fear keep her from him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I want you to know…it wasn’t wasted,” he said.

She froze. He pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he was gone, a great, cavernous hole taking his place. Her heart jackhammered against her ribcage, as if trying to follow him out. The kitchen swam around her. Any minute now she would wake up and it would just be another dream - after all, it felt so like the one with the letter. It couldn’t be real. In a few moments, this endless abyss left in Ethan’s wake would be filled again by his embrace. She wouldn’t be falling, a scream trapped at the back of her throat. She wouldn’t be -

The front door closed.

Billie shattered.

Tessa found her hours later, still sobbing on the kitchen floor.

Interlude

January15,1945

Noville, Belgium

Mrs. Margaret Owens,

I regret to inform you that your husband, Sergeant Henry Franklin Owens, was killed in action on January 1st, 1945 during a shelling in the Bois Jacque woods. I wish we could have gotten word to you sooner, but we were completely cut off and are only just now able to send and receive mail again. I’ve enclosed all your letters to him along with his belongings. Know that they brought him courage and comfort throughout these long, cold nights.

I know it is painful, but Henry’s sacrifice was not for nothing. A line that never seemed to move finally has, and he was an important part of the defense of Bastogne. Against a relentless enemy, he fought bravely, died a hero, and will be forever honored in his country’s memory.

For his service and your own, we thank you.

Signed,