Keeping London (The Flawed Heart Series Book 2) (14 page)

BUT, if I must answer you, then I would have to say my favorite time was the first time because it only took once to know that my life would never be the same from that point forward. That’s some romantic shit right there, but I mean it. ;-)

Not much going on here. Military stuff. I did beat Cooper by 2 seconds in our mile race, which is pretty awesome. He’s being a baby and saying that he tripped on the gravel, so it doesn’t count. But I say that I beat him fair and square. He’s always been a whiner. ;-)

I hope you’re doing well, babe. I think about you nonstop. I’m actually quite pathetic with the amount of time I spend thinking about you. I think I might be addicted. It’s weird, missing someone here. I’ve always only had Cooper, and he’s been with me on deployments, so it didn’t really matter. This is my first taste of truly missing someone who’s alive and well yet…so out of my reach. It’s kind of a cruel form of torture.

I love you.

So, question 14, where’s a place you’ve never been that you’d love to visit?

My answer is London, England. The reasons are pretty obvious, but I think I’ve put off my trip there long enough. I need to see all the places that my dad used to tell me about. I need to look up my grandparents and ask them why they never came for me. I think, to completely put my past behind me, I need the closure—for good or bad—that their answers will bring.

If you want to know the truth, I’ve been too much of a coward up until this point to find out. The little boy inside me was too scared to know because, sometimes, the truth hurts more than one is capable of dealing with. A long time ago, I started using hate to cover up my hurt. But I think I’m finally ready and able to go there.

You and your love have helped me more than you will ever know. Your love gives me the strength to do things that I never thought I could.

I love you, London, baby.

Love,

Loïc

His email makes me hurt. I want to reach into the computer and hug him—my wounded, brave, sexy warrior.

To: Loïc Berkeley

From: London Wright

Subject: Question 15

Loïc, you are brave, and you have more courage than anyone I’ve ever known. Maybe I helped you see that in yourself, but it was there all along.

I’m glad you want to go to London. I think that will help you so much. There has to be a reason for everything. And, if there’s not a good one, you’ll be fine with that, too.

You have conquered more true heartaches and obstacles than any one person ever should. But you’re still here. You’re strong. You’re perfect…cracks and all.

And I love you more than I ever thought possible.

To answer your question, if I could go any place right now that I’ve never been…well, it’d surely be Bagram, Afghanistan. No questions asked. I’ve heard that not only is the hottest man alive there, but that the mountains are pretty, too. :-)

I woke up to the most beautiful snow today and immediately thought of you. I’m attaching some pics of me and said snow. I was going to let you believe what you want, but in full disclosure, I must admit that I was only outside for, like, a minute. You know, if you were here, you would have us gallivanting all over the great state of Michigan, doing all sorts of outdoor activities. But I decided to slowly build up my endurance so that I can hang with you next winter. And, yes, a minute was my limit. I have some work to do. ;-) Regardless, the pictures are cute, and I hope they bring a smile to your face.

I’m about to do some online shopping and hang with Paige for the day. I hope whatever you are doing, you are safe and happy. I love you.

Question 15: What’s your favorite animal?

Mine’s a dog. I think they are so adorable and sweet. Growing up, I always wanted a puppy, but my dad is allergic, so it was never an option. Just FYI, someday, you and I are going to get a puppy together. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you name him. Of course, I’d have to agree on it. ;-)

Love you,

London

Loïc

“It’s hard to risk your life and to see your brothers lose their lives for a cause that’s often hard to find.”

—Loïc Berkeley

I’m lacing up my tennis shoes when I hear the first blast—a mortar. I’d be surprised if that one even made it inside the wire, the area protected by our troops. Mortar attacks are at least a weekly occurrence. The Taliban set up these Chinese rockets quite often, usually on a timer so that they’re not still in the area when the rockets shoot off. At least half of the time, they detonate outside the wire, but they do land on base as well.

I jump when a second boom from a rocket sounds, this time close enough that the cheap wood beneath my feet trembles.

Shit.

I lunge toward the exit and swing open my door just as the base’s sirens go off, warning us to take shelter. Cooper comes flying out of his room at the same time, his hair a disheveled mess and his eyes still puffy with sleep.

“Hell of a wake-up call!” he yells to me over the hums of disarray.

We sprint out of the building.

Another explosion, and this one is deafening, hitting the sleeping quarters about fifty yards to my left. My hands instinctively cover my ears that are now ringing as I turn my face away from the blast that has sent wooden fragments racing through the air. We run faster. In a matter of seconds, along with everyone else housed in this section of the base, we’re safe within the bunker.

“Kent!” Cooper shouts to one of our brothers whose room in the building was just demolished by a mortar. “Did everyone get out?”

“Still missing Carter!” Kent yells back as he continues to scan the space, an unsettling fear present in his eyes.

Carter’s just a kid—eighteen, I think. He’s real funny. This is his first tour, and he’s already well liked on base. He’s one of those guys who gets along with everyone. As one of the youngest guys on base, he fills the role of everyone’s little goofball brother. A pang hits my chest as I immediately start searching the faces in the tight space, praying to see Carter’s mischievous grin.

“Oh, Carter was switched to night watch,” a brother from Kent’s unit answers.

I stop scanning to listen.

“When?” Kent asks.

“Last night was his first night. He wasn’t back from watch yet when the mortar hit,” the soldier responds.

The collective sigh of relief coming from the men in the cement bunker can almost be heard over the chaos sounding outside.

My rapidly beating heart calms as we all hunker down and wait. The atmosphere’s calmer now that all of our brothers are accounted for. A few more mortars go off, but they’re farther away.

After a period of time goes by without any blasts, the siren rings, informing us that we can leave the bunker.

“Well, all right. Ready for some chow?” Cooper asks me as we walk past the now demolished living quarters of Kent and his unit.

“Yeah,” I respond before nodding toward the shattered pile of wood and debris. “That sucks.”

“Sure does,” Cooper agrees. “Glad everyone got out before it hit though.”

“Let’s hope they’re serving something better today than that shitty excuse for French toast,” I huff out.

The quality of food offered at the chow hall is hit or miss, depending on which contractor is providing the food that day. Yesterday, they served French toast that was coated in raw eggs, like they hadn’t even known to cook that shit.

“Or that slimy sausage.” Cooper shudders. “Greasy, I can handle. Slimy, no way.”

“Agreed.”

“Well, at least we’ll have steak and lobster tonight. Another week down,” Cooper states.

I nod.

Another week down.

Every Friday, the dining hall serves steak and lobster for dinner. It’s shitty, but crappy steak and lobster is better than none. Cooper and I count down how many weeks we’ve been here by how many steak and lobster dinners we’ve had. It’s amusing how much time we spend figuring out new ways to count down the time until we leave.

After a breakfast free of slime and raw eggs, we head to our mission prep brief, which lasts hours longer than it should. The topics of discussion veer drastically from the agenda that pertains to our upcoming mission. We go over everything from supply issues and lost weapons to Baker’s cheating whore wife and how to support him here as he deals with the news. At times, being in the military is like having a crucial role in the operation of a badass fine-tuned machine designed for greatness, and other times, it’s like having a role in a dramatic soap opera with a horrible plotline.

Yet, even as I sit here, cringing inside, wondering how Baker could have ever married a tramp who would sleep with their babysitter’s son—who is a senior in high school—only weeks after he leaves, I know the ultimate purpose of this discussion is to come together as a group to help Baker and make sure his mind is in as good of a place as possible. No one can afford to be in a fog when they’re out of the wire. Having a clear mind and the ability to make quick decisions can be the difference between life and death. I will say that the military takes care of their own.

After our meeting, Cooper and I opt to do a quick run before hitting the gym since we missed our morning one. When we’re not out on missions, there isn’t much to do on base besides work out, so we spend a lot of time in the gym.

It’s a cool day with brisk winds that make it even colder. We run at a steady pace, neither of us feeling the need to push our bodies today.

“So, have you and London had Skype sex yet?” Cooper asks out of the blue.

“What?” I turn to him, my eyes wide, before facing forward again.

“You heard me.”

“Um, no.” I shake my head as we round the corner.

A group of Navy SEALs is running ahead of us.

Bagram is big, and the branches of the military are fairly segregated in that we each have a section of the base. Most of what we do here is with the Army, particularly our own unit, but we do cross-train with the Air Force and Navy on occasion.

I recognize the group of SEALs as the same one we trained with last week. We’ve been working out the logistics of a possible future mission. They’re a great bunch of guys. If I were pushing myself today, I could pass them, and normally, I would love the competition, but I have no desire to do so today. This entire day has been emotionally and physically exhausting, and it’s not even dinnertime yet.

“What are you waiting for? Maggie and I have done it, like, four times already.”

“Really? Wow. I just…I don’t know.”

“Eh, it’s your first tour with a girl back home. I get why you’re a little slow to catch on. But I’m telling you, man, Skype sex is pretty great. You need to get on that shit, pronto.”

I can’t help the smile that crosses my face at Cooper’s complete lack of conversational boundaries. He’s never had them. From the moment he introduced himself to me and started talking back in basic training, he’s been the same way.

“Hell yeah. I’m on it,” I agree.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. This deployment and all these feelings and shit have really been messing with my head.

All at once, several things happen. The familiar cracking of an M4 sounds in the distance. Panicked yelling comes from the group of men running ahead of us. I quickly take stock of my surroundings as the bullets continue to hit the ground, sending dirt particles flinging into the air.

“Holy shit!” I yell out.

Cooper and I duck behind a light pole. It doesn’t provide much cover, but the illusion of cover allows my mind to process what’s happening. I look to where the shots are coming from—the nearest guard tower.

Motherfucker.

It’s an ANA—Afghan National Army—fucker. Part of our job over here is to train the ANA and ANP—Afghan National Police—to defend themselves against the Taliban. It’s not uncommon to work with a group of Afghan dudes for months, just to have one of them, who is a supposed friend, turn. Many of our guys have been gunned down by a “friendly” Afghan who was really working for the other side.

Truthfully, it’s one of the most difficult aspects of being here. We’re trying to teach people to defend themselves, yet half of the time, they don’t even care. We’re losing guys to help people who don’t even want us here.
What’s the fucking point?

The ANA helps us man our guard towers, and apparently, the one who is currently shooting at us has had an ulterior motive behind his act of wanting to keep the men within the wire safe.

Now, more guns join the chaos as the crack of the bullets come from other directions. Our guys are fighting back. The bullets stop hitting the dirt around us.

Cooper and I take the opportunity to run toward the group of Navy SEALs. In a matter of seconds, we’re beside them. Two men are lying on the ground. I immediately recognize them—Ramirez and Johnson. Red stains saturate their T-shirts as their brothers kneel beside them, working hastily to provide first aid.

“Let’s get them to medical!” I shout.

Instantly, precision amid the chaos ensues as all the able-bodied men work as a unit to transport the injured to the medical building, which stands several city blocks away.

We run as smoothly as possible with the injured. Some of us help carry the men while a few run beside, applying pressure to the men’s gushing wounds.