Bows and Piccolos

By T. Sunshine

When Grace Dawson and Mason Hamilton meet, sparks fly.

Grace meets the love of her life the day he is leaving for basic training. The feeling is mutual and is just as deep for Mason. They write letters to one another, getting to know each other on a whole new intensity and neither knowing this kind of love existed until it was theirs. It’s 1972, and the Vietnam War is still raging on, full of danger and sorrow. Mason promises he’ll be back, and Grace promises she’ll be waiting. But is it a promise Mason can keep?

Grace never believed in love at first sight, but she now knows, without a doubt, it’s real. It’s strong, and it’s pure. Her heart will never be the same, and she wouldn’t have it any other way—for true-love stories never end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546270065

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© 2018 T. Sunshine. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/14/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7007-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7006-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018914045

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Epigraph

Preface

Chapter 1     Falling

Chapter 2     Gravity

Chapter 3     Waiting

Chapter 4     Brazen

Chapter 5     Feeling

Chapter 6     Promise

Chapter 7     Butterflies

Chapter 8     California

Chapter 9     Everything

Chapter 10   Heart

Chapter 11   Truth

Chapter 12   Crescendo

Chapter 13   Vietnam

Chapter 14   Taps

Chapter 15   Broken

Chapter 16   Homecoming

Chapter 17   Alone

Chapter 18   Journal

Chapter 19   Prom

Chapter 20   Pride

Chapter 21   Ignite

Chapter 22   Milestones

Chapter 23   Cherish

Chapter 24   Anticipation

Epilogue

Timeline

Biographies

Author’s Note

Acknowledgement

~*Dedication*~

*~…~*

For my mom, who encouraged me throughout all the craziness while writing this book, and every day before and afterward. Love you so much.

~*Epigraph*~

*~…~*

How Do I Love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

~*Preface*~

*~…~*

Some argue that a ‘soulmate’ and a ‘true love’ are two entirely different things.

Some say that a soulmate has to do with past lives and is a separate being altogether and that they have been together throughout several lifetimes. Then at death, they begin again and are on that perilous journey until they are reunited. Always the same two, forever destined to find each other once more.

Others say that one’s true love is a twin flame, one another’s literal other half, and it is one soul that was created at the beginning of time and then separated into two. Sparks fly, tensions flare, and a magnetic force is established.

Aristotle wrote, ‘Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.’ And, I think he was mostly correct. Even though both beings have their own souls, their love forms them into one and then that is why it hurts so immensely to be apart.

For me, they are the same, they are the epitome of love and that by saying either ‘true love’ or ‘soulmate,’ it means that you’re the one and the only one.

~*Chapter One*~

Falling

*~…~*

I tried. I really did try to suppress my resigned sigh and not to roll my eyes like a child; but table two just complained about everything imaginable, table eight just couldn’t seem to get enough cheese, and table five’s male occupants wouldn’t stop looking at my backside. I tightened the thin tie of my apron in a futile attempt to hide myself further beneath it.

It’s days like this that I really hated working at the diner. But I would do it for my father; I would do anything for him. I do question that man though. For example; why did my dad insist he had to start up his own restaurant? He couldn’t even cook for crying out loud. We had to either hire cooks, or I did all the cooking, even though he doesn’t like me to be in the kitchen. No, but in all seriousness, the man could burn water with the stove off. Of course, my mother was no help what-so-ever; she is a four-year-old trapped in a thirty-seven-year old’s body. My younger sister, Angela didn’t want any part of it. Our father did make her help here from time to time; however, everyone was miserable when that happened. It’s better to simply let her have her way, or who knows; she might spontaneously combust and take us all out with her.

The diner is very successful though. We live in this tiny town in Oregon, with one of the primary bus stops that the military uses at the corner of our building; you can see the edge of one of the old benches from the far window. That bus stop heads straight off to basic training before they eventually are sent to Vietnam. The diner is also a main hangout for all the local kids and high schoolers from Seaside. Cannon Beach was too small to have its own high school. High schoolers either took the bus, drove themselves; if they were old enough, or a parent would drop them off. I was lucky enough that my dad lets me use his Chevy; the downside was the passenger was Angela. Therefore, I basically knew everyone before I even got to Seaside High.

I’ve been working here since my dad opened it when I was eleven years old. And working here seriously does not help my popularity in the slightest; not that it matters to me, I much prefer to be the wallflower anyways. I hate being the center of attention. I hate feeling eyes on me. I much rather watch and listen.

So, with those facts, I could see why it would be a good idea to open this little diner.

Summer break was now here, and the business was booming more than usual. The tufted puffins were back at Haystack Rock and tourists were bustling in and out a lot as well. You could see the glistening ocean and Haystack Rock from the diner. The ocean breeze blew through the cracked windows and every time the door was opened. The wall of windows and the front door all faced the beach; making it a prime location.

It was normal these days to see young men in their army green uniforms coming in and out of Dawson’s Diner. I sighed louder this time; I wish this war would hurry up and end. It’s been going on for far too long; I can’t even imagine the number of losses we as human beings have genuinely dwindled. I have my negative opinions about the war, but it doesn’t make me any less thankful for all the brave men and women fighting.

Miss, The nasally voice brought me out of my ongoing thoughts. Great, just great. It’s the butt starring boys. I didn’t recognize any of them; they must be out-of-towners.

Yes? I asked in my best, ‘I really am happy to see you’ voice; I’m sure my painted on polite smile was more of a grimace.

Someone placed their hand on my shoulder; I stiffened, fully prepared to swat someone. But when I turned, and I saw it was just my father, Daniel, I relaxed under his gentle hand.

I’ll take this table, Grace; you go help table four. I mentally thanked my dad and made my escape towards table four. But in my haste to get away from my unwanted admirers; I tripped over nothing but thin air, and in all my clumsy glory was headed straight to the hardwood floor.

I threw my arms out in front of me hoping I didn’t smack my face; except, instead of the impact I was expecting, two strong arms wrapped around my waist. I knew my father couldn’t have reacted that quickly from where I knew he was at to spare me from the impact, so I was becoming mortified that someone else had to save me.

A muted buzzing of what felt like electricity was now present all around me; it was something that I have never noticed before. My brain quickly chalked it up as a weird adrenaline rush from almost smashing my teeth in.

I forced my eyes open; I didn’t even realize that I had slammed them shut. I was eye to eye with the polished, knotty wood floor. I let loose the breath that had found itself trapped in my lungs.

Thank you, I stuttered breathlessly, as the stranger, my rescuer helped me up.

Once back on my feet and my rescuer had steadied me, I straightened my bow that I always had my hair tied back with. I would have to redo it now; I had a few loose strands falling in front of my eyes.

I looked up at my rescuer for the first time, and my already flighty breath immediately caught in my throat. This stranger had to be the most handsome boy, or should I say, man, I have ever seen, it took all my self-control not to gawk at him openly.

Not a problem, miss. He said politely as he took a step away from me; his crooked smile was making my heart do this strange flutter thing.

He nodded a single time, once he knew I wasn’t going to topple over; then headed back to table four.

Yes! A very unlike me, feeling of giddiness flooded through me as I took everything in.

Table four was the second to the last booth in the diner; it rested against the window where ‘Dawson’s Diner’ was written in an elegant black script. He was sitting all alone and looked almost defeated; his face drained of any pleasant emotions. His green army duffle sat at the corner of the bench next to his black, glossy boot-clad feet. His gaze held nothing in particular as he peered out the window towards the open sea.

It made my heart hurt to see another young man heading off to war; especially this one. Why did I feel this way? What made him so much different from the others I see passing through here? His eyes looked lonely and so far away.

I quickly tucked the now loose strands of hair behind my ears. He looked up at me as I made my way over to the booth. I could still feel the faint hotness in my cheeks left over from my embarrassment.

I had only gotten a quick glimpse at his eyes when he had caught me, but I knew they were green. I was taken aback by just how green they truly were. I have never seen eyes this color. I didn’t know anyone could have this shade of green. His eyes reminded me of the tall grass that danced in the lush meadows in nearby fields right after it rains or the bright green shamrocks that decorated the diner in March. It had to be a whole new shade of green altogether. A green that I didn’t have a name for.

His hair was almost a dark mahogany brown, but it was not red in the slightest. It was a little longer than other boys, and it fell halfway in front of his beautiful eyes. It was the kind of hair you wanted to run your fingers through repeatedly. His fare complexion made his mysterious eyes stand out even more. He was tall; a little over six feet, maybe six, two. He was muscular built, but not as much as other soldiers that come through here. Yet, there was a softness to him that made him all the more real.

He was perfect, simply perfect.

I felt myself flush again as I continued to ogle him. I needed to take his order before I did something utterly moronic, like stare at him more than I already was, or worse, say something ridiculously stupid.

Hi, my name is Grace, and I’ll be your waitress, what can I get you to drink? Wow, Grace, could you have sounded any more pathetic; what is wrong with you? I was berating myself internally.

My mouth was suddenly bone dry, and I felt like my voice was quivering; I felt like I was shaking. Come on, get ahold of yourself. Hopefully, he would just think it would be from me almost face planting and not from me ogling over him like an idiot.

I’ll have a Coke, please. His feathery yet somehow still deep voice hummed in my ears. How could something sound so impossibly like velvet, but still wholly masculine? How could they exist within the same?

I smiled softly and made my way to the back. I don’t know why my face was so hot or why I had agitated butterflies flapping around in my stomach, but the heat in my chest was consuming me, and the fire in my veins confused me. My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing, making my ears pound and my eyes go in and out of focus. How could this boy have such an effect on me when I didn’t even know his name?

Clearly, he is a soldier that is going off to war, him being here tells me that much; and he certainly has a girl waiting for him back at home, wherever that even is. I gripped the counter to steady myself as that fleeting thought went through my overworking mind. What was happening to me? I tried taking a deep breath, but it still came out ragged. Get a grip, Gracie.

Yet, he didn’t seem like the typical men that came in here on their way to basic training. He couldn’t be much older than I am. Great, on top of asking myself dozens of questions, I’m now coaching myself, and I’m dejectedly sad.

I took another deep breath; trying to get any resemblance of control back over myself. It probably was an impossibility; I might be already too far gone to even feign control. Releasing another puzzled sigh, I quickly fixed and retied the ribbon into its bow in my hair and grabbed his Coke.

My heart was still hammering in my ears as I approached his table. I kept my gaze trained on my feet. The odd electric buzzing was getting stronger as I approached this beautiful stranger.

I honestly couldn’t help myself; I had to gaze at him more. His strong jawline contoured his face in a way that made him look like he should be on TV rather than a battlefield. My stomach suddenly plummeted. Okay, you thought too far there, Grace. Shaking my head in my own mind, I went back to studying him.

His eyes were haunting with such sadness it could bring grown men to their knees. He seemed so down, and I wanted to make him feel better; however, I didn’t have the first clue how to even begin. What could little ole me do or say to cheer this impressive man up?

I scanned my stare around the diner and saw the butt staring boys were finishing up and that there were only a few more people still in here from the lunch rush.

As I got closer to the booth, I noticed his head drooped further; the diner’s menu long forgotten in front of him. I wondered briefly if he even looked it over. It seemed like my heart stopped altogether; I didn’t know this man from Adam, and I didn’t like seeing him hurting so much. I felt horrible for him. How was I supposed to fix this? Would it be right for me to even try?

Have you seen anything you would like? I asked, pulling out my little notepad and pen from my apron pockets. I couldn’t just keep staring at him like a freak. I had to focus on anything other than his captivating emerald eyes.

I took a chance anyway and glanced up; he looked at me too, and he smiled his crooked, charming little smile again. The dusty pink color of his lips, pulling away from his ivory teeth had me instantaneously trying to contain my overactive heart.

Yes, I have. His voice brought me out of my inner battle. I waited a few seconds, and he said nothing more. Okay; was he going to tell me what he wanted to eat or was I supposed to guess? Wait; he was still looking at me. I felt the heat that I had just barely managed to get under control return to my face, my cheeks raised as I tried not to smile, and my butterflies started fluttering in their erratic design again.

When his eyes met my own something, unexplainable happened. I felt trapped in his gaze, and not in the ‘deer caught in the headlights’ way, but in a transfixed, pure fascination way. The eye connection was far from unpleasant; it was just mystifying.

He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands, breaking the connection. Sorry, I’ll have a club and fries. I nodded and scribbled the words down on the notepad, even though I knew I’d always remember.

I’ll get that right up for you. I stuttered out and made my way back to the kitchen without looking at him again.

As soon as I passed through the door and handed the ticket over to the cook, I had to grip the counter again for support.

Wow, I breathed out nearly inaudibly. Okay, calm down Grace. Pull yourself together. You are over thinking things; he can’t be actually interested in you. I was talking to myself a lot more than I usually do; I’m beginning to question my own sanity. What if that amazing creature isn’t even sitting at table four?

My heart was pounding again, performing its encore from earlier and my hands were shaking like I had just run a marathon in the dead of winter.

Before I could stop myself, I peeked at the handsome man from the little window between the kitchen and the dining room. He was still looking down at his hands as he played with the straw in his near-empty glass.

Crap! I have to go back out there. I probably made a fool out of myself; but what else is new.

I grabbed another glass of Coke and made my way, yet again to this guy’s booth. I placed the glass down and grabbed the empty one, all without looking up at him. It seemed I couldn’t look at him and form a coherent thought at the same time.

Your food will be right up, I told him swiftly, still casting my eyes away.

Thank you, Grace. I almost came to a screeching halt.

Oh, my, he remembered my name! I never wear a nametag, and I know that I had only mentioned it once. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled in his direction as I made my way to get his lunch.

His order was waiting for me on the cook’s windowsill; which made my job that much easier. I just had to focus on where I placed my feet and made my way back to him. I was still in this pleasant electric current fueled fog when I placed his meal in front of him.

Here you go, can I get you anything else? My simple question sounding surprisingly steady, even though I thought it would sound erratic.

No, thank you. His silky voice, sounding much too vulnerable.

Are you okay? I had to ask; I couldn’t help myself, my curiosity and concern were finally getting the better of me.

His eyes shifted up to meet mine. My heart did another backflip in my tightened chest.

I’m as okay as I can be. It looked like he wanted to say something else but stopped himself from elaborating more.

Do you want to talk about it? Oh, my gosh, Grace, now you sound like a stalker, he probably doesn’t want to talk about it; especially with a total stranger.

Would you mind? Can you sit down and talk with me? There was a new sound of urgency in his sensual voice.

I quickly glanced up at the clock above the little window that led back into the kitchen; the diner wouldn’t close for several more hours, but I was off in a little less than an hour.

My shift is over in about forty-five minutes, and I can take you to a place where we can talk if you would like.

I would like that, thank you. I could listen to this man read a phone book.

What is your name? I could ask that right? He did want me to talk to him after my shift was over after all. It’s innocent enough.

His smile that appeared across his chiseled face completely erased my concerned.

My name is Mason. Mason Hamilton.

I gave him a little smile and stuck my hand out.

It’s nice to meet you, Mason, my name is Grace; but I already told you that.

His smile got slightly more prominent, showing off his perfect, straight, white teeth, and he took my hand in his. The electricity that I had thought I imagined a couple of times earlier this afternoon had returned tenfold. It was him. This feeling was coming from him. How had I not figured out the source earlier?

Mason looked slightly shocked by the extraordinary current just as I was, but he said nothing about it. I wonder if I can bring it up when we talk later. Would that be inappropriate? I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that this gorgeous man wanted to talk to me.

With that, I left him to enjoy his meal, and I rushed through the simple chores that I had to complete before I got off my shift. Filling the pepper, salt, and sugar shakers; making sure there was enough ketchup at each table; putting jelly pouches in their little black caddies. Wiping down the grossly sticky menus, taking dirty dishes into the back for the dishwasher to take care of. Of all days for the busboy to have bailed on us, of course, it had to have been today. Dad really needed to find someone else to fill that position.

I cashed a couple of the other tables out and cleaned off the counter for the thousandth time today. Mason was just finishing his late lunch when I finished filling the last sugar shaker.

The next time I glanced up, he was gone, and my stomach plunged.

Where did he go?

It was only ten minutes until I was done, and I was looking forward to talking to him. I went over to his booth, and he had left enough money to cover his check and plenty more.

I looked out one of the many windows and saw him walking towards the direction of the bus stop with his duffle bag in hand. My heart sunk and nearly stopped as I saw Mason disappear around that corner. Had I said something wrong that made him change his mind? And, of course, before I could stop them, tears started welling up in my eyes. Through the tears that I fought off as best I could, I closed out his ticket and cleared his table off. I knew it was too good to be true.

I pushed my way through the swinging door into the back room and changed out of my waitressing uniform and into a pair of blue jeans and one of my favorite tops. I looked in the mirror and straightened out my bow and flattened some of the loose fly-a-way hairs that escaped their tie again.

I looked back at my reflection quickly before leaving the room. My pale skin looked almost translucent with my long dark hair and my dark cerulean eyes. Some days they were more sky-blue and others they were as dark as the Oregon ocean. My eyes looked a little red from fighting back the tears, but apart from that, you couldn’t tell anything drastic had happened to me in the last couple of hours. I didn’t look like how I felt on the inside; like some catastrophic event just occurred within my chest.

What was wrong with me? I needed to talk to someone, but I didn’t know who would even begin to understand the electricity crackled fueled storm raging inside of me. I could talk to Natalie or Cordelia, but I don’t know where to even start that conversation. I shook my head in frustrating dejectedness. Yes, my best friends would try to help me, but the outcome wouldn’t be without ramifications.

I’m heading out Dad; I’ll see you at home. I called out to my father as I grabbed my satchel from the little hook by the door.

Okay, Gracie, be safe! I heard him yell from the front of the diner, probably causing some customers to jump. I couldn’t help but to smile at the mental image; my dad is an incredible person. He is one of the only people that thoroughly understands me. I have my handful of insanely close friends and my best friends, but my dad and I are so much alike. He and I always saw eye to eye and got along. He was more of a best friend than a father; however, he knew when he had to be which one.

I didn’t bother hiding my tears any longer as I exited the diner; I still didn’t understand why I felt this way either. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. How could he make me feel like I was falling?

~*Chapter Two*~

Gravity

*~…~*

I had just pushed through the front door of the diner when the first tears finally found their way down my cheeks. I had been holding them hostage for too long. I didn’t understand the crippling feeling of despair that had settled itself in my thudding chest.

I went to turn around the corner, and when I looked up, I was stunned to see Mason standing there in all his camouflage glory. Tears were sticking to my eyelashes, making it difficult for me to see past their blurriness. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the ones that still lingered.

Hey, what’s wrong? He questioned promptly, concern leaking through his silky voice. The sun shining off his mahogany mane left me fumbling over my own thoughts.

While the question was still leaving his lips; Mason dropped his duffle bag and a little brown paper sack to the ground and walked over to me in two bounds of his long legs. His boots clomping echoed in my hot ears.

Mason reached up and cupped my cheek in his right hand; wiping away the loose tears with the pad of his thumb. The goosebumps that went through my body were shocking but never less amazing. I’d never felt anything quite like it before. The breath that I had unintentionally been holding left me in a wild gasp. The electric current flowed freely between us now; it was no longer just pestering, trying to make sure I was aware of its presence. It was now all-consuming.

I was shocked that he would be this forward, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the warmth and comfort his touch brought to me. I couldn’t stop myself or even think about the consequences that may come from it before I leaned my face further into his hand. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Right, he was still waiting for an answer from me. How was I going to answer his question? First, I was beyond mortified that he had caught me crying and about him no less. Second, I felt almost ashamed to admit to him what was wrong. I was truly pathetic.

I um…I thought you had left. I managed to stumble through the words; my voice was barely squeaking out, my eyes darting between the ground enclosed by our feet and his enticing emerald orbs.

Mason took a deep breath before speaking again. I am sorry, I didn’t even think about telling you where I was going. I knew you still had several minutes before you got off from your shift and I wanted to run to the little convenience store that I had seen earlier to get some supplies for my trip before we started talking. I never dreamed that I would make you cry; I’m so sorry, Grace.

His face looked like he was genuinely pained to see me upset. The little lines in between his eyebrows caused me anguish. Even though I couldn’t bear to see him upset, my heart soared at the thought that he cared that much about me to be unsettled by my tears. It was a double-edged sword. The weight of the gravity of this entire situation was paralyzing.

He pulled his hand away suddenly from my face like it burned him to touch me; the quick action startled me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I am so incredibly sorry, that was extremely inappropriate of me to touch you in that manner; especially without your permission. His eyes shifted away from mine. The butterflies that I’ve failed to keep at bay took off like a rocket.

Then, I did something that surprised us both; I took his hand and placed it back on the side of my face and leaned into it. I closed my eyes when he took a step closer. I heard him suck in a shaky breath.

How can you make me feel this way? Mason breathed under his breath; I don’t think it was a question meant for me to hear; rather a question he was asking himself. But over the course of the last couple of hours, I’ve been thinking along the same lines. Who was this man and why did he seem to hold me like gravity?

I felt him shift again and I opened my eyes just in time to catch him wipe a stray tear away from his own eye. My chest twisted in a way it never had before. No matter what the reason, this angel should never cry.

Come on; I know where we can talk, without someone overhearing us. I boldly took his long-fingered hand and led him away towards the pier. He reached down to grab the strap to his duffle and the sack with his free hand. It was such a fluid, graceful motion it nearly caught me off guard.

Our hands fit together like longtime missing corresponding puzzle pieces. It felt like we had been holding hands for years. I glanced down at our interlaced hands, and I couldn’t contain the small smile that broke out from across my lips. Our hands looked like they belonged together. His skin tone was slightly more tanned than mine was, but as our hands met, it looked like a harmony sounded.

I caught him looking down at them as well, and my smile grew as I took note of his charming, cheeky little grin; his hair falling into his green eyes as he looked down. It would be such a shame to see all his gorgeous hair get shaved off. I stopped my train of thought right there and focused on getting to the pier without bursting from these foreign emotions. But our growing smiles made me confident that this closeness was okay with him.

I led Mason out onto my favorite pier. It was a long wooden boardwalk that was far enough away from everyone and wondering ears to have complete privacy. He helped me sit down on the edge and then gracefully lowered himself down to sit next to me. He left enough space to where our legs were barely touching. Why this pier was my favorite was because it was straight down the sand from the diner, and it had a perfect view of Haystack Rock, you could see the puffins flying around and landing back to their nests. It was the first full week of June, and the chicks were starting to hatch.

Our feet dangled off the edge of the wooden deck, the ocean breathing below us, and his army duffle was sitting behind us, acting as a backrest. The brown paper bag from the little store next to the diner was sitting on top. The bag was making a rustling noise from the wind trying to take it with it, but whatever was in it was substantial enough to keep it in its place.

I took another deep breath; the salty sea air filled my lungs; it had the calming effect that I desired. Mason cleared his throat and turned his torso towards me, placing a leg underneath him.

Grace, He seemed to hesitate. After watching him try to find the right words, I thought it would be best if I started this conversation.

So, tell me your story, tell me why you looked so down earlier. Are you being drafted or are you enlisting? The confidence in my voice astonished me. Where did this sudden spark of courage come from?

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his clean-shaven, chiseled face.

I’m enlisting, I turned eighteen last week; and I want to do my part in helping my country. I really didn’t want to enlist, but I figured it was better than being drafted and forced to go. At least I’m going on my own free will. His voice held something more, but I didn’t push it.

My cousin, Nathan was drafted, he left a couple of weeks ago; he’s already in California. My cousins and I are incredibly close; my cousin, Natalie is one of my three best friends. We did everything together, and Nathan is her older brother.

Maybe Mason and my cousin could look out for one another; if they even ended up in the same place. I nearly shook my head at the thought. The odds weren’t exactly that great.

Another one of my best friends, Cordelia has always had a thing for Nathan, and a few weeks before he left for California, they finally made it official and became a couple. I fear for Nathan’s life, and now I am terrified for Mason.

I tried to ignore the horrible sick feeling as it shot through my stomach; it was almost like I was punched. I shouldn’t have asked anything to do with the war or brought up my cousin. It literally made me