“What did you find?”
I don’t have to say it. I look at him and give a small shake of my head, and he knows. The tension between us is like a brick wall. The voices from the television are the only indication time is still moving. My throat tightens when I try to swallow.
Sometimes life really, really sucks, and I just want to play my video games to drown out the noise in my head. This time, I don’t think there’s any way to ignore this.
Uncle Jasper finally pulls his gaze away and focuses on the floor. “Can you tell me exactly what you read?”
“It was only a mention of him. How he—” I lick my lips and start again, finding this more difficult with every passed minute. “It said he was killed in action, on January eighth.”
“Not missing in action?”
“No. I reread it a dozen times to make sure.”
Uncle Jasper’s jaw clenches and unclenches. Missing in action would make sense. Kale would go missing because he would come home. Why does it have to say the former?
“What’s the date there—did you ask him?”
I regret leaving Kale when he asked me to. I could still be over there, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers and his breathing matching mine. It was safe with him. The possibilities of him leaving were far out of reach, along with every worry that clouded my thoughts.
“He said it’s about to be the new year,” I say, closing my eyes to fight back the rush of unwanted emotions. All I can think about is Kale. The way he looked down at the river, dripping wet and giving me a dimpled smile. The dashboard lights outlining his face as he drove me back from the diner. Every moment his eyes caught mine, my heart beat a little faster.
I want Uncle Jasper to say it’ll be all right or figure out a way to prevent it. To say anything that will make this all go away. The same way I wanted Kale to. I keep yearning for something that will never come.
A few minutes pass until Uncle Jasper releases the tension in his shoulders, exhaling a defeated and tired breath. He flicks off his hat and it drops between his feet.
“I wish there was something we could do,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looks over. “Me, too, kid.”
I lean over to rest my head on his shoulder and his arm wraps around my back. He reminds me so much of Dad that it hurts. Even his smell and the sound of his voice. Nothing could erase that from my memory.
“The only thing we can do is hope history is wrong,” he says.
Whatever happens, I just want Kale to come home to us. I’ll give anything for him to walk through that door again; today, tomorrow, and even weeks from now.
We sit on the bottom step of the stairs, ignoring the constant hum of the baseball game and watching the night settle through the screen door.
There’s nothing we can do.
It’s impossible for me to sleep. The moon shines bright through the windows, and I toss and turn under the pale light, the sheets clinging to my legs. I give up and sit against the headboard, staring out at a night filled with crickets and grass and the faint sound of the river.
The house is empty and quiet. Uncle Jasper left an hour ago, saying nothing when he did. Aunt Holly told me he used to do it all the time. He just leaves and drives wherever the roads take him when he needed to think or let off some steam. It’s his way of dealing.
Now more than ever I wish she was here. Even at night, when I would wake up after having a nightmare, just knowing she was in the next room was enough for me to fall back asleep. Missing Aunt Holly makes me miss Mom even though it feels wrong to do so.
The stairs creak, followed by the hallway floor. I never heard Uncle Jasper come home, so it could only be one other person. My bedroom door cracks open and Kale slips inside, wearing his gray zip-up sweatshirt and a ripped piece of cloth tied around his right hand. I untangle myself from the bed and move into his waiting arms.
I press my face into his shoulder, inhaling his smell and trying to memorize it. “I was afraid you were already gone.”
The muscles along his back stiffen. “I didn’t come to talk about that.”
“Then what did you—”
Kale cuts me off with a kiss. It’s soft and cold at first, deepening into something more when he draws me closer. My fingers twine into his hair, feeling like this could never be enough. I finally realize the difference between needing and wanting.
The back of my legs hit the bed, and I slowly lower myself down, Kale following me without an inch of space between us, his knees coming up on either side of me. One of his hands wraps around my waist, his thumb tracing along my hip. A shiver runs up my back and I break away, still feeling his chest move every time he takes a breath.
Something isn’t right and I want to ignore it. Still—“Kale …”
“What?” His eyes search mine.
Screw it.
I tug at the zipper on his sweatshirt and pull it free from his arms. It falls to the floor somewhere behind him, and I can swear my heart is pounding loud enough for him to hear. My fingers trace the hem of his jeans before slipping under his T-shirt, slowly drawing it up, over his stomach and the curves of his chest. He leans away and lifts his arms, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head.
The smell of winter is everywhere.
I thread my fingers through his hair, remembering how it felt when I cut it and my stomach fluttered the same way. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I draw him closer. His lips brush my chin and then my jaw, finding my mouth in the stream of moonlight.
Nobody is here to stop us this time. Uncle Jasper won’t be walking in on us, and there’s nothing but the night outside, keeping our secret away from the sun and everything that reminds us of reality. Because being with Kale is like a dream—too good for me to have and disappearing when things become too real.
Being with him lets me forget about everything wrong. I’ve already forgotten why he’s here and why I couldn’t sleep.
But when his dog tags brush against my neck, I remember.
Kale doesn’t have much time left. I feel it with every movement in his lips—like he knows his days are numbered.
I break away and put a hand on his chest. “Kale, stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
He looks down at me with a face I can’t say no to. We both need each other, but not like this.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I say, “and I think you know why. You can’t make it go away by trying to forget.”
“Why is it so horrible for wanting to forget that I know I’m going to die? All I want right now is you.”
I almost give in. My hand is still on his chest, feeling his cold skin against my palm. He’s using this to forget about his problems, and I could be the solution. But it wouldn’t change anything.
“And I don’t want this to happen under that reasoning,” I say. “I don’t want it to be like this. And I know you don’t want it to either.”