Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“No more whining from me. This trip was to see you and forget about all of that for a while.”
“Faith, this is a big part of your life right now. Yes, this trip was to get away and to see me—” he flashes me a grin “—but it’s also to clear your head to help you make the best decision for you. And that’s what you need to do. Choose the path that makes you the happiest. If that’s passing on these jobs and subbing until you get your own kindergarten classroom, or if it means you have to move out of Cooper, whatever the end result may be, we all support you as long as you’re happy.”
And this is why I love you. “Thanks, Chad.”
He nods. “Now, finish up. We’ve got some desert sand to tear up.”
CHAPTER
FIVE
Chad
“I’m not sure I’ll ever get all this sand out of my hair. How was this even possible when I was wearing a helmet?” she asks from the passenger seat of our rental.
I glance her way, a smile instantly spreading across my face. Her hair is matted and rumpled, several long brown strands sticking up every which way. Not to mention the red outline on her face from the goggles. It’s cute as hell.
“We had that sand flying everywhere,” I confirm, feeling those tiny granules in places you don’t ever want them to be. It reminds me of my first tour in Afghanistan with Ford.
“Yeah, but I guess I didn’t expect to find it beneath the helmet. And I’m pretty sure I’m taking half the desert back with us in my bra,” she states, pulling out the front of her shirt and peeking down at her chest.
My eyes instantly drop to the place hers are focused. “I could help you out with that,” I quip, even though I’m totally serious.
She flashes me a wide grin. “I’m sure you would,” she sasses, releasing her shirt and kicking back in the seat. She crisscrosses her legs and sighs. “It was totally worth it, though. I had so much fun.”
“Me too,” I reply, wanting to reach over and grab her hand, entangling our fingers as I drive. But I don’t. Sure, I’ve stolen little touches here and there throughout the day, but nothing as bold as to take her hand in mine. “Are you hungry?” I ask to get my mind off touching her.
“Starved, actually. Who knew racing through the desert would burn so many calories?”
“It’s the sun and the heat,” I tell her. “When Ford and I were overseas, we could be sitting outside doing nothing, and I was probably hungrier than if we were actually working.”
It’s quiet for a few moments before she asks, “What was it like over there? Ford’s never really said too much, probably to protect us, but I know he talked to my dad. Dad was no stranger to being sent away, which sucked for him and my mom. He missed us being born, and he’d had enough. Six months later he was home for good.”
I can’t help myself now. I reach over and grab her hand, holding hers within my much larger one and giving it a gentle squeeze. She slips her fingers through mine, entwining them as I’ve been picturing all day. The result causes my heart to simultaneously skip a beat with excitement and relax in contentment.
“I can’t imagine growing up with a parent in the military like that. I’m the first one to enlist in my family. My grandpa had a childhood heart condition, which prevented him from enlisting, and by the time my dad was nearing the end of high school, he was helping full time with the farm. I think they always thought I’d hang around and join them, but I saw my future a little differently. I wanted to see more of the world and do my part to make it a better place before I put down roots somewhere.”
“You’re a good person, Chad Anthony. I’m super proud of you,” she replies softly, squeezing my hand—and maybe my heart a little too.
“Anyway, being in Afghanistan is pretty much what you’d expect. It was hot during the summer months and at times, the hours were long and grueling. I remember feeling like everyone was watching me, and I guess they were. We were the Americans, coming into their towns and villages for whatever reason. For all the bad I saw—and believe me, there was plenty of that—there was a lot of good too. I have a ton of memories of playing soccer and hopscotch in the dirt streets with some of the kids and teaching a little girl how to tie her shoes. There’s a lot of bad in the world, but there’s a hell of a lot of good too.”
“When I was in third grade, I remember our teacher’s son being in the military and he was sent overseas somewhere. Every Friday, our class would write him a letter or draw him a picture. He was our pen pal, I guess you could say. Mrs. Winger would put together a package, sometimes a big box with snacks for him and those in his unit, and sometimes just a big envelope with that week’s messages from the kids. She’d always write her own letter too and include it. A few times, we’d even be able to schedule video chats with him. I remember how excited everyone was, mostly because it was hard to picture a world so big that someone could be thousands of miles away and we could still communicate with them. On those days, we all were wearing our red, white, and blue, and he’d always smile so widely when we showed our support.