The Soldier's Promise: A Military Romance

PT 3: The Encounter

Present Day

I toss the pregnancy test into the trash, storming out of the bathroom. I couldn't believe any of this was happening. John was only gone two weeks, and here I am, watching my world shake up like it's built on a tectonic fault line. What's worse, I don't even know where John is, if he's alive, or has even made it to the post. They said we should hear around the two-week mark, but it's been radio silence since then. Now more than ever, I wish I could talk to him.

It's not meant to be. The hot Texas sun blinds my eyes when I leave the store. Almost instantly, a trail of sweat snakes its way along my back, pooling at my tailbone. To think that I was a New England girl, forced to brace the heat and misery of the South for this man.

My stomach gurgled in the affirmative as I felt hot bile moving up my throat. Not again, I groaned as the world swam around me. I kept my jaw shut, refusing to let the vomit out until I couldn't breathe and had no choice but to upchuck on the sidewalk, to the horror of a few passersby.

I sunk to the curb, head in my hands, trying to catch my breath. From behind my palms, I could feel the earth still spinning.

"Are you okay?" A voice asked, a thick Texas drawl marking his speech.

"Huh?" The words were foreign to me; I couldn't understand much of anything. If you asked me what I wanted, then I would say my mother and a tall glass of iced cold Sprite.

"I saw you vomit."

Oh, yeah. That fiasco. He probably thought I was a junkie. Or even worse, one of those people who insisted on coming out and infecting everyone with Covid. At this point, I couldn't care less what anyone thought of me.

It took a serious amount of resilience to pry my hands away from my eyes. I did so slowly, revealing a pair of chocolate brown ones looking down at me, concern rumpling their brow.

"I'm fine. Just a little under the weather."

He chuckled, flashing a set of straight white teeth. "I can see that." A napkin emerged from his blazer. Lord, how was this man wearing a blazer in this heat and doing it so effortlessly? "Here, you got some on yourself."

I stared down at the stain on my floral top, my cheeks reddening. "Oh, thanks."

He returns a tip of his chin, and I stare him down until he gets the message and heads off. It takes a few seconds to get up. I set off toward the direction of my house, hoping that the double vision and the feeling in my belly that round two of vomit fest may be coming sooner than later would subside.

"Are you walking?" I hear that same voice in my periphery. He's been watching me. Usually, that would trigger true crime alarm bells. Still, I'm too exhausted to care about anything, even my life.

"Yeah, I live just about a mile down the road."

His face scrunched. "You're not walking like that in this heat." It's a challenge. I hate to be challenged.

"Why?"

"Because you could hurt yourself. It's not safe. Let me give you a ride."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You could be a serial killer and chop me up into a bunch of little pieces."

He begins to laugh. It's a hearty sound that shakes his large frame. "Seriously? This isn't a movie. Plus, I'm a doctor; it's my job to help people."

"How do I know that?"

He fishes out a business card. Matthew Miller, M.D. El Paso Urgent Health Clinic.

"How do I know this isn't fake?"

He doesn't hear me. He's already walking over to a nice, sleek car, a German build. There's got to be some truth to his story, at least.

"Come on, get in. I'll crank the AC up."

And like the dumbest, or possibly the smartest, person in the world, I shut up and followed.