Chapter 12

“Carl,” Bert called out, racing to keep up with me. “Wait up.”

I couldn’t wait. I wove through the soldiers, the bodies, the wounded, sure I was too late. He’d be gone by the time I found him and he’d never hear me tell him I loved him, I’d never get to say the words. My throat closed with the thought that I’d never hold him again, I’d never kiss him. God, please don’t let me be too late. Please let me at least look into those eyes one last time and please let me tell him I love him because I do. You can’t take him away from me now. I won’t let you.

When Bert grabbed my shoulder, I shrugged him off. “Don’t,” I warned, not letting him slow me down. I followed the wounded to the medical tent and didn’t look back.

“Carl,” Bert sighed, “maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He kept up with me and Sherman trailed behind us, cradling his limp arm against his chest. “Maybe you should just wait—”