Soldier On

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Authors: Sydney Logan

BOOK: Soldier On
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Copyright © 2014 Sydney Logan

Published by Mountain Media

 

 

Cover design by Jada D’Lee

Front cover image by Studio 1One/Shutterstock

Back cover image by Mega Pixel/Shutterstock

Formatting by
Mayhem Cover Creations

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.

 

All book, song and movie titles, television and movie characters, and movie quotes included in this book are the property of the respective copyright holders. Army Strong® is a registered trademark of the United States Army. Netflix™ is a registered trademark of Netflix, Inc. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

DEDICATION

 

For my friend, Denise,

who told me I should write a book about it.

 

Matthew 5:4

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

About the Author

Also By Sydney Logan

Acknowledgments

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Stephanie

 

I’m going to kill Tessa for dragging me here.

What started out as just a few friends quickly turned into a rowdy frat house mixer on New Year’s Eve. Hip-hop music blares, and the thick, smoky haze makes me sick to my stomach. The co-eds who can still stand are dancing in the middle of the living room. Some have found secluded areas of the house to make out, while others play video games in the den.

I get it. This is all supposedly part of the college experience. But keg parties are the one aspect of campus life I despise, and I guarantee I’m the only one drinking soda instead of beer. I’ve always hated the smell, and I definitely hate the taste. Besides, I see nothing fun about puking in the bushes or hooking up with random guys. I’m not a prude, but I can recognize a stupidly dangerous situation when I see one, and this party is a recipe for disaster.

I check my watch and notice it’s close to midnight, so I send a quick text to Tessa, my best friend and roommate, to see if she needs a ride back to the apartment. Knowing Tessa and her boyfriend, Xavier, they are probably one of the couples in the upstairs bedrooms. If that’s the case, my presence is no longer required. I
hope
that’s the case.

While waiting for her reply, a guy dressed as Luke Skywalker walks up to me.

If he asks me to touch his lightsaber, I’m out of here.

“Can I get you a drink?”

His breath reeks of alcohol, and my stomach twists. I lift the red plastic cup that hasn’t left my hand all night.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

His gaze sweeps over my costume. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.”

“Disney, right? That girl who likes to read.”

“Right.”

Dressing up as Belle from
Beauty and the Beast
had seemed like a good idea at the time. The party’s theme was “Movie Night,” and Tessa had found this short and sexy version of Belle’s yellow dress in a vintage costume store in town.

Belle had never shown this much leg. Or cleavage.

The guy steps closer. “So, Belle, wanna dance?”

“My name’s Stephanie.”

“Okay . . . Stephanie. Wanna dance?”

“No, thanks.”

“Wanna touch my lightsaber?”

Totally called it.

“No, but I’ll be happy to break it.”

The guy’s face pales before he quickly slinks back into the shadows.

With a disgusted sigh, I toss my cup into a nearby, overflowing trash can before maneuvering my way through the dancers and up the stairs in search of my best friend. Bravely, I try a few of the rooms, but all are locked except for a set of open double doors at the end of the hallway.

Curious, I step inside, and I’m instantly mesmerized.

Frat houses have libraries?

This one does, complete with ceiling-high bookshelves. Laptops line one wall, and a giant multimedia screen is attached to another. While all of it is impressive, nothing excites my book-loving heart more than to see the library ladder.

Secretly, I’ve always wanted to climb one—the tall ladders that roll from one end of the shelves to the other. Ironically enough, library ladders always remind me of
Beauty and the Beast
. Or the love scene in
Atonement
.

One of those movies is G-rated. The other most definitely is not.

Suddenly nervous, I look over my shoulder before making my decision.

YOLO. Carpe Diem. Whatever.

Slipping off my shoes, I reach for the ladder and slowly begin to climb. Sadly, this is the most adventurous thing I’ve done in a long time, and I can’t stop smiling. I’ve made it to the fifth rung when I hear someone clear his throat.

Crap. Please don’t be Luke Skywalker.

I hold on tightly and manage to turn myself around without falling off. When I’m sure I’m steady, I turn and find myself looking into the eyes of a soldier. Possibly Army. Maybe Marine.

Not that it matters. I accepted long ago that my hatred for anything military related is a little unhealthy, but when the service strips a girl of the privilege of knowing her father, it sometimes makes a person bitter.

I am the epitome of bitter.

This particular soldier is smiling at me, and I can’t lie, the smile is kind of beautiful. Despite that, my first instinct is to roll my eyes at his outfit. But then, I remember this is a costume party, and he probably just needed a quick and totally uncreative disguise.

“I don’t think this room is open to visitors,” he says, his tone soft and deep.

I wonder if that’s his natural speaking voice or if he’s just playing his role as a badass. The guy certainly
looks
like a soldier, dressed in his head-to-toe camouflage and smeared-on face paint.

“It was actually the only room that wasn’t locked, which is kind of stupid if you ask me. This is the one room in the house you guys shouldn’t want trashed. Drunken idiots could really do some damage in here.”

He grins, and my breath catches in my throat as he steps closer. I tighten my hold on the ladder, because a smile that makes a girl’s heart race isn’t the best thing when she’s trying to maintain her balance.

“I noticed you downstairs.”

Embarrassed, I glance down at my ridiculous dress. “I’m a little hard to miss in canary yellow. I’m going to kill Tessa—”

“That’s not why I noticed you.”

He’s closer now, with one hand pressed against the shelf behind me. He’s tall, but thanks to the ladder, we’re practically nose-to-nose. Normally, I would be frightened of a complete stranger invading my space, but honestly, this is the most relaxed I’ve felt all night. With his athletic build, there’s no doubt he could hurt me if he wanted, but I’m not afraid. For one thing, his breath doesn’t stink and his speech isn’t slurred. For another, he’s gazing at me with a pair of big brown eyes that make my stomach do this weird somersault-thing, and my stomach hasn’t done somersaults in a very long time.

Before I can ask why he noticed me, shouts erupt from downstairs.

“Ten, nine, eight . . .”

“Do you have someone to kiss at midnight?” he asks.

I simply shake my head. He steps closer, pinning me between his body and the bookshelf.

“You do now.”

Horns blare below, but I barely notice because in the next second, his mouth covers mine. His lips are featherlight and sweet, causing warmth to spread through my veins and settle in my heart. I sigh, causing my lips to part slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. One of his hands stroke my cheek as he leans in, pressing his body tighter against mine. His quiet groan vibrates through me, and I’m ready to let go of the ladder and wrap my arms around him when he suddenly pulls away.

“Wow,” he whispers.

I’ll say.

I open my eyes, and all I can see is his smile.

“Happy New Year,” he says.

Then he’s gone, sprinting from the room before I can even formulate a coherent response.

In a daze, I carefully climb down the ladder and step into my shoes. While the celebration roars below my feet, I flip off the lights and close the door before heading downstairs.

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