The Conquering (Book #2 in The Inception Trilogy)

chapter eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HARRY DREAMS THAT NIGHT. He dreams of old faces left far behind. Of his mother and sister and a girl who once meant everything to him. Riley, was her name. He dreams of the time they took a midnight walk to the park when Rylie's father came home drunk. It was a usual occurrence, but it never hurt her any less.

The two lay in the grass, her head on Edward's chest and his arms around her small frame. The stars sparkled above, seemingly for her. Edward liked to think they were reassuring her as much as he was. That everything will be okay in the end.

"You won't live in that house forever," he'd tell her.

"I can hardly last minutes there," she'd reply.

That particular night, Rylie had said the most random thing she could: "Are you going to join the military, Ed?"

The tension was high between countries, and drafts were being called. It was always a worry of Rylie's that he would have to go away, but surely such a thing wouldn't happen to him. They tried to avoid the conversation--or at least, he tried.

"You know the answer to that," he said quietly, pulling her a little closer.

"What if you have no choice?"

"Rylie, let's talk about something else."

"No." She sat up, her palm splayed on his chest to hold herself up. Her eyes were wide and fearful. "The draft is getting closer to us, Ed. Monica's brother was taken the other evening for the war, and she's only two states over." Monica was her best friend who'd moved the year prior because of her father's job offer.

He sat up to face her, taking her cold hands in his. "Hey, it'll be okay. Monica's brother is ten years older than me, Rye. They'll want people with experience."

"No," she whispered. "They'll want young people who are more capable of adapting. More capable of fighting."

He lifted a hand to swipe a tear off her cheek. "Stop doing this to yourself."

"I can't help it. I'm a worrisome person."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering for a moment longer than usual. When he pulled back, she was full-out sobbing. "Aw, come on, Rye." He instantly embraced her tightly, smoothing her hair down.

"I won't be able to bear it," she murmured into his shirt. "I can't go home every day with him, and then not have you around to keep me from going insane."

"Rylie, hey." He tried to pull her from his chest. "Hey," he said firmer, gripping her chin yet still remained gentle. He stared into her eyes so she could see his honesty. "That's not going to happen, all right? I won't let them take me. I won't leave you, Mom, or Penelope, okay? You can't let it trouble you so much."

She sniffed loudly, dragging her hands through her dark red hair, hazel eyes gleaming. "I can't do it," she reiterated, averting her gaze.

He knew what she meant. They'd had this conversation a handful of times before.

"Rylie, don't you dare start thinking that way again." He tilted her chin to meet her eyes again. "Even if the draft does happen here--which it won't--you're not a quitter, you're a fighter. Don't let that bastard tear you down. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"Edward--"

"Promise me, Rylie. You know I'll never forgive myself if you go back to your old ways, so promise me."

Her bottom lip trembled. "I don't want to break a promise."

"Then don't." He cupped her face, desperate. "Let your promise motivate you from breaking it."