PROLOGUE

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The picture she held was old; the corners were worn and the image had become hazy. Regardless, she could still make out the entrancing smile she had fallen in love with so many years ago. Even through the mildly distorted image, he looked just as amazing as she remembered him being. His dark and messy hair fell so messily around his face; the blue of his eyes, though masked by the greyscale of the old picture, shone so brightly—so beautifully. She wished nothing more than to be able to run her fingers through his soft, brunet locks again, just as she longed to look into his captivating blue eyes once more.

It pained her more than anything that she couldn't.

He was gone. She didn't want to accept it, but she knew she needed to if she ever wanted to move on. The thing was, though, she didn't want to move on, at least not from him she didn't. He had been the love of her life, and it hadn't changed despite his absence. She would never find another man like him—she didn't want to. He was one of a kind to her. There was just something about him—something about him that would forever hold her aching heart hostage.

She often wondered what that something was, as there was so much about him she just couldn't help but fall in love with. She thought perhaps it was the way his laugh made her stomach flutter, or the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. There was a copious amount of thoughts running through her mind as to what it could be that made her fall so dangerously in love with him, and while they all flowed so freely and aimlessly, there was always one that seemed to linger.

It was the way he looked at her, she had concluded. He saw her, truly saw her. She could always remember being so insecure about herself, until he came along, of course. He freed her from that insecurity and allowed her to discover her true self. He saw her for who she truly was: a beautiful spirit who deserved nothing but greatness and love in her life, just as he was himself. The two were perfect for one another, and anyone who knew them knew it to be true, including the two themselves. They were both two halves of the same whole, yet one half had managed to disappear, leaving the other half alone in life as he promised he'd never do.

She missed him; she missed him far too much. The pain of it had grown to incomprehensible measures. It was horrible, agonizing; it was an unbearable burning pain that surged through her veins, threatening to consume every inch of her body. He had left her, and with him he had also taken a half of her heart—a half she was sure would never find its way back home.

The warm tears trickled down her face as her thoughts and memories continued their reign of terror inside her head, and she placed the old picture back into the manila folder she had retrieved it from.

The door creaked open seconds later, and she wiped her face free of tears before fixing her gaze toward the door. She couldn't help but wish it was he who stood in the doorway, but she knew better than anyone that wishes didn't come true.

"Hey, Con," her brother greeted her.

Connie delivered a warm smile his way, but the gesture didn't quite reach her beautiful, golden brown eyes. "Hey, Steve."

"What's on your mind, doll?" Steve questioned his friend, though he believed he was already aware of the answer to such a question.

"Bucky."

Connie sighed and pulled the picture out once more, her gaze falling upon both figures in the picture this time. She remembered being so happy to take the picture, but she remembered it being because of him.

He was her happiness. He was her light. He was her heart. He was her soul. He was her love. He was her life. . .

. . .he was her Bucky.

Battlefield ★ Bucky BarnesWhere stories live. Discover now