Front Lines of the Heart

I looked out my window to see my favorite person walking up my dirt drive way. Not paying attention to anything else, I raced downstairs and opened the front door to reveal a smiling John Hayes. I abruptly stopped when I saw what he was wearing.
"Not you too," I muttered inaudible. "Not you too!" I yelled this time. We both walked up to each other silently with no trace of happiness this time. "Sargent Hayes." I saluted.
"Madam Thomas," a slight, but sad smile appearing on his face when he saluted me too. Eventually, we both gave up on being professional and serious and hugged each other like it was the last time we would see each other, which it might be. I felt safe and secure with his muscular arms around me, as if it was reassurance that he would be alright on the front lines.
"Stella," he whispered my name, his voice muffled by my long, brown hair.
"Yeah?"
He pulled the hug apart and looked at me and then did the unexpected: he kissed me. It was long and passionate and I didn't want to stop. He was going off to battle and I hope he could win his battle and I would win mine: Front Lines of the Heart.