Page 128 of My Fiancé's Brother 2

“When will you know?”

They both stood there silent.

“When will you be able to tell me what has happened to my husband?” Tears splashed down my cheeks, and my voice vibrated.

“We might not be able to confirm the outcome of this situation,” he cleared his throat, and they exchanged looks.

“What does that mean?” I pressed.

He looked pained. “Sometimes if insurgents do capture missing servicemen, we get news about it online.”

I took a deep breath. Envisioning Jackson kneeling with his hands tied behind his back with a hood over his head while someone with a sword stood over him. I shook my head. “No.”

Tears poured down my face.

“We’re very sorry. We have a media package here for you to review. Would you like us to go over it with you?”

“What?”

“For your husband’s safety, the longer this situation is kept out ofthe media, the greater the chance he has for survival. If the media does catch wind of this, it'll get very complicated for you and could compromise your husband’s safety. We will, of course, provide some media support for you, but the rule of thumb is don’t talk about this on social media, don’t talk about this with strangers or the press.”

He held out a navy green coiled book for me. I stepped forward and took it from him.

“And when you do find out the outcome?”

His face was completely impassive. “We report all deaths in person within 12 hours of receiving news. If there are any further updates about this situation, you will either receive an email or a phone call.”

I stared at them for a long moment. This is what Jackson’s sacrifice had come to. Two strangers showed up at our house with a coiled notebook and a promise to tell me in person if he had died. And if he hadn’t, I would get a phone call. I just wanted these men gone. These two strangers didn’t know Jackson. They didn’t know how beautiful his laughter was, or how warm his arms were when they held me. I wanted them out of my sight.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” my tone stated I was done. This conversation was over. They shared another glance and then showed themselves out.

I didn’t cry. I was in too much pain to cry.

The next threedays passed by in a haze. I don’t know how I would have survived without Lauren. She took Chloe for walks. She put food in front of me and insisted I eat. It felt like that ride at the fair that spins so fast, and then the bottom drops out from your feet. That was me right now. My world, my entire life, was spinning so hard that I couldn’t breathe and now the floor just fell away. If Jackson was gone, my life no longer had any meaning or purpose. I had no interest in being on this planet if he wasn’t here with me.With him gone, nothing mattered. Nothing at all. All I could imagine was Jackson, captured, being tortured, being beaten. Horrific images plagued me. Haunted me.

Beth flew in to stay with me and sat with me for hours every night. She didn’t speak. She just drank copious amounts of wine.

Lauren and Beth told me repeatedly that I should go to bed, but I couldn't imagine sleeping in my marriage bed while my husband was out there, in some hell, either broken and bleeding and fighting for his life or unimaginable, dead. Why had I let things end so badly with us? I needed him to know that I loved him. I needed him to know that he was my entire world. I needed his forgiveness.

Tears would run down my face, but I felt like I was made of stone. No expression graced my face. Chloe stayed curled up at my feet. I talked to no one. I just clutched my iPad. Someone would put a cup of tea or a piece of toast in front of me. I don’t remember drinking or eating anything, but I must have.

Beth would lead me to the shower and force me to bathe. She put out clean clothes for me to get into. I slept, fitful awful short naps that I awoke from gasping and afraid.

I knew that I needed to get up and start coping with this news, but honestly, I could do nothing but sit on the couch.

I looked up at Beth. “Do you think he’s dead?”

She touched my face. “Until they come to your door and tell you otherwise, just hang onto your hope.”

“What if they never recover him.” I couldn’t bring myself to say his body.

“They did not say he was presumed dead which means there might be a chance of survival.”

I wokeup on day four to my phone ringing. I sat there frozen, so Beth picked up the phone and answered.

“It’s for you,” she said, holding out the phone.

“Who is it?”

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