The bombings were in Afghanistan.
Luke.
My ears started making a whirring, ringing noise and my entire body felt like I had just entered hell. Goosebumps covered my skin. I swallowed and then blinked several times before I felt a soft hand on my forearm.
I looked down and saw Alexandria’s little hand playfully slapping my arm.
Carrie’s voice was soft. “Sweetie, what is it? Are you okay?”
I looked back at my dad and the wrinkles around his eyes reappeared. “What’s wrong, Cammie?”
I stuttered, “Uh—I…Luke.”
His eyebrows rose and he turned his head slightly, trying to make sense of what I was mumbling. I shook my head. “Do you… know the na
mes… of who…?” I croaked, and his face softened.
“I can find out.” My father stood up quickly and walked towards his small office. I glanced at Carrie. Tears were filling her eyes.
She gave me a weak smile, “It’ll be okay, Cammie.”
I nodded curtly and stood up, going in the direction that my father had gone.
Twenty-Four
“Mmhm. Anyone else not accounted for?”
My father had on his “don’t fuck with me” voice. He sat down on the edge of his mahogany desk that was lined with pictures of me, Alex, and the twins, and started to tap his legs up and down.
My stomach felt queasy and my head was throbbing. Stress and anxiety clawed up my back.
What if it was Luke? What if it was Luke and the last thing I’d said to him was, “I met your wife today,” and that was it. What if he died thinking I hated him? It shouldn’t matter what he thought of me or if he knew how I felt about everything because the fact still remained—he had a wife. But I cared about him, and that was something I couldn’t change.
Sure, a relationship between us might not work because I was not down with the whole Sister Wives thing, but I still cared about him and it would still inevitably and irrevocably destroy me if he died over there.
“What is his last name, Cammie?” my father asked, voice still stern.
I breathed, “Wells.”
God. I took another deep breath and ran my hands harshly over my face. I looked up at my dad after he repeated the name. His brows furrowed slightly as he listened intently.
“Let me know if you hear anything else. Thanks, Captain.” Then he hung up the phone and met my gaze. I broke out into a cold sweat.
“No one by the name of Luke or Lucas has been reported. He wasn’t in the raid that got bombed. It was a small group of men that went, four of them.”
I let out a huge breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. I looked up at the bright, white ceiling when tears started to blur my vision. I jumped at the sudden pressure of my dad’s sturdy hand on my shoulder.
“Is this the man I talked to a while back?”
I nodded, closing my eyes and dropping my head.
“And you love him?” he asked, softly.
I choked on a bitter laugh. He released my shoulder and I walked away from him, leaning against the closed door.
“It doesn’t really matter if I do.”
He eyed me warily, pleading for me to spill.