Page 91 of Returned Mail

On the twenty-fourth day, there's an envelope in the mailbox.

But it's not from him.

It's from a military address. Official-looking in a way that makes my stomach drop before I even pick it up. My hands shake as I tear it open right there in the lobby. Inside is a typed notice on official letterhead.

Then the world tilts.

“Sergeant George Hale sustained severe injuries during combat operations…”

“…multiple internal traumas…”

“…medically stabilized for now…”

“…presence of next of kin recommended immediately…”

“…in case of further decline.”

My vision blurs. Tears are filling my eyes too quickly that even blinking doesn’t help. I reread it, then again, and again, until the words stop making sense and just become shapes on paper.

Next of kin.

But there's no name filled in. No emergency contact listed. Just a blank space where someone should have been notified. Because he has no one. I walk backward until my shoulders hit the wall. The letter shakes in my hands.

“He's hurt,” I whisper to the empty hallway. “He's really hurt.”

My chest tightens so violently I think I might pass out. I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the cold floor, the notice crumpling in my fist. Then the next thought hits, horrible, sharp, unavoidable.

Monica.

Should I tell her? But they're not together. She broke up with him. She told me to throw his letters away. She didn't even care enough to send the breakup letter sooner. Would she even come? My stomach twists. He trusted me with the truth. He spent months writing to me. He told me I mattered to him.

I matter to him.

And he might die.

Alone.

No.

I can't let that happen. I can't sit here and do nothing and pretend I wasn't the one person who knew him. Who heard him. Who cared. The decision isn't clean or brave or rational. It's instinct.

I have to go.

Even if I have no right.

Even if I'm nobody.

Even if it breaks me in half.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mia

I stand on shaky legs, walk towards my bedroom, and start packing a bag with trembling hands.

I checked for flights, but it was getting too overwhelming, so I decided to call an airline. I’m barely hearing the agent over the pounding in my ears.

Twenty-seven hours.