Foolishly Falling for You

23

Lance

I know she hates me. It's all I think about. And the more she hates me...the more I read her words...and feel all The love she tried to give me. The more I want her. How foolish is that? She cannot be convinced to love me again—who could?

Anita,
I am saddened to hear you set the dream aside, just as I share it, though I don't blame you. I now find myself eager to touch you. Your soft cheeks, your eyes...and the way they sparkle.

I lull myself to sleep at the thought of sitting by your feet while you read, the scent of you engulfing me. I pine after the smile. The soft sounds you made when we shared a bed.

Your shoulders brushing against mine while we eat. How I crave the small moments. How did I take you for granted?

I am killing men every day. They scream and they cry for mercy. They curse me and damn me to hell. I don't think of them. I keep thinking of you. Even with blood on my hands, and pleas in my ear, I console myself with the thought of your hand on my shoulder.

I imagine you here, next to me. I think I may be going mad. Lack of sleep, perhaps, but I swear...I can almost reach out and touch you. And then I am reminded you are not here. Not your body, not your heart, or your thoughts. None of you resides with me anymore.

It's a bitter thought. Bittersweet. Because...even though it hurts me, I know it brings you joy. I like thinking of you smiling. Even if I have to suffer for it.

I can handle it.

I will mend my wounds by remembering your beauty and hoping I may gaze upon it once again. Love is such an odd affliction. I am wracked with pain and yet...loving is beautiful and warm.

I thought you were a devil who'd shackled me to her side. Now you have released me and all I can think to do is beg you to return me. Your ownership was sweet bliss. Your collar was comforting, and warm, and the air around my neck is now barren and cold.

You must think me cruel and unusual, to have changed my mind this way. Still...I cannot help that my heart has shifted.

I long for you,
Admiral Lance Mendoza

I sigh, stamping my letter. The messenger will be here shortly, until then, I will keep it safe, and think of her face when she reads it.

"Admiral?" One of my men, Desmond, enters the tent, the dirt smeared on his face caked and dry.

I stand. "Yes?"

Desmond nods behind him. "There are reports that the English are marching toward us. They surround our flanks."

I frown. "Toward? They're invading?"

Desmond swallows roughly, as I push past him, grabbing my telescope and looking into the distance. That's not just a few men. That's a legion. They're trying to invade. And we do not have the numbers to stop them.

"Get me a messenger hawk," I demand. "Round up the troops. We have to meet them, and lower their numbers."

Espinoza does not have the troops to defend against a full scale invasion. We have to cripple them here. It will most likely wipe most of us out to do it.

"To your feet men! Ready your weapons! Make haste! As soon as they are in firing range, we must attack!" I shout, grabbing my musket. My eyes stray to that letter. With how things are going a messenger will not be by here.

"I hear we're being bombarded by the English," Michael shouts, bursting into my tent. I book up at him and then down at the letter. We won't...make it.

Probably. Not with the forced I saw headed toward us. I smile. It's perfect.

I take the letter, and put it in Michael's hands carefully. "You must bring this to my wife. Leave now, and quickly. Go report what you have seen to the King. Tell him to prepare for a full scale invasion."

Michael's hands tremble as they close over the letter. "I can't leave. We're in the middle of a war I—"

I smile and shake my head. "No...no the war will continue after we have fallen here. You have a wife. A child." I clear my throat. "And someone must warn the king."

Michael's eyes widened. "I am not the only one with a family."

"But you are the only friend I have," I murmur. "If someone must live, why not you."

Michael shakes his head softly in disbelief. "Lance..."

"Get out of here," I shout, prepping my musket. "While you still can. And Michael?"

Michael looks up at me. I take him in. My best friend, though I loathe to admit it. My only friend.

"Take care of my wife. Make sure she gets everything of mine. All of it."

"Don't you hate her?"

I shrug, pushing him out of the tent. "I hate you too. Go home to your child. Or you will never see him or anyone else again."

Michael backs away slowly, his eyes on me, wide and terrified, my letter clutched against his chest. His steps gain speed before he closed his eyes, and runs away. Shots start going off. I heave a sigh, putting my musket over my shoulder, looking out at the horizon.

It's a good day to die, I think.

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Sorry I'm late 😭 chapter 24 is up on Patreon