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BECKETT: I went to the cemetery early to pay my respects alone. They came early and she saw me before I could leave.
I waited for her reply.
CASEY: What exactly did you tell her? Did you tell her it was your mission he was responding to? Did you tell her you were critically injured and he saved your life? Did you tell her your mission was classified and you really were under legal obligation not to talk about it?
I hesitated, feeling like such a dick because I didn’t tell her anything.
BECKETT: No, it never came up. I just said I was sorry and that she was right to be mad at me.
There was a long pause.
CASEY: You mean to tell me that you didn’t disclose any of the story of how you got the letters? Why they were accidentally sent to you?
I responded, but knew I had been wrong not to have revealed the truth to her.
BECKETT: We never even got that far. She was too upset and hit me. I realized at that point that there was no salvaging anything so I left.
When she replied, I could almost feel her anger and frustration in her words.
CASEY: Beckett Tate, do you know nothing about women? After all the women you’ve been with?
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.
BECKETT: If she knew he died because of me, she’d never forgive me anyway, so there’s no use in even telling her the truth. All I can do is move on and forget her.
My cell rang. I checked the display. It was Casey. She must have grown sick of the texts.
“Look, Beckett, you can’t know how she’ll respond until you give her the chance. You have to tell her the whole truth – all of it. Not only what happened in Afghanistan, but also about your injuries and rehab. Tell her about Sue. How after her death, you stopped believing that you would ever meet anyone and fall in love again? Tell her how you got the letters and what happened to you when you read them and started to learn about her. How you fell for her before you even met her, just from reading her letters. Tell her that when you met her, you were hopelessly smitten and while you fully intended to simply return the letters to the parents, you met her instead and fell for her. How each time you tried to come clean, you feared her response.”
I took in a deep breath and mulled over her words. “That would make me look like a total coward.”
“Beckett!” she said, almost shouting. “Of all the men I know, you are not a coward. You almost died testing equipment that is meant to save lives. You have survivor’s guilt. You have PTSD even if you don’t want to admit it.”
When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Am I right?” she said. “You fell in love with her and you were too guilty about surviving while her husband died.”
“Of course,” I replied, shaking my head. “How the hell else could I feel?” She didn’t say anything for a moment. “How do you know all this, anyway?” I asked, grudgingly admitting she was right.
She laughed lightly. “Because I know you, Beckett. I freaking know you better than you know yourself. You’re in love with this woman. Tell her everything. Give her the chance to forgive you. Maybe you’re the first man who made
her feel alive again. Maybe she fell for you, too.”
I stared up at the ceiling, my cell in my hand, and considered.
“I’ll take your advice under serious consideration,” I said, trying to sound officious.
“I’m not joking, Beckett. Tell her everything.”
I sighed once more. “I will.”
“When?”
I rolled my eyes. “When I get the chance.”
“Do it,” she said, her tone impatient. “You of all people should understand that there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow is never certain. Do it today.”
“I’ll think about it.”
The line was silent for a moment and then I heard her yawn. “You okay?” she said finally.
