Page 4 of Until Tomorrow Comes
Then he’s running.
“Oh my god! Kat!” He gasps, kicking an already broken chair out of his way as he crosses my dining room.
He skids through the glass in his rush to get to me. When he reaches for me, I watch him snap out of whatever fear grips him as his instincts kick in. As a combat medic, I can only imagine how many terrible injuries he’s seen.
How do mine compare?
“Does it hurt to breathe?” He asks, panic plastered across his face.
My brain wants to respond, but another pathetic whimper escapes instead. The second Alan touches my ribs, I scream. Impulsively, my body jerks to get away, which only makes everything worse.
Carefully, he gently maneuvers me to lie flat on the ground, but I can do nothing to combat the searing, white hot agony coursing through my body.
My brother calls my name, and as the world fades into blackness, one final thought remains:
Alan is here. I am safe.
2
Jackson
I groan at the sound of my phone ringing from the kitchen. Most likely, it’s my mother calling me again, especially since I didn’t call her back the other day.
Just let it go to voicemail.
She’s been hell-bent on setting me up on a date for weeks and I’ve run out of ways to politely tell her no. It’s not like I can tell her to shut the hell up and leave me alone. But I feel like I’m only one call away from doing exactly that.
No. Ignoring and dealing with her in a couple of days is definitely the best option.
Unless something is wrong, and she actually needs me.
With that thought, I turn away from the sunset, heading inside to answer my phone. I step into the kitchen just as the ringing stops, and the screen goes black. But when it lights up again, and I see the caller ID, my throat goes dry.
Alan Michaels
I haven’t talked to Alan since we returned from our deployment just over a year ago. Sure, we’ve sent a few texts randomly to check in, but we haven’t had anactualconversation since landing back in the states.
There was no anger or hate, it was simply the fact that life was kicking my ass.
When we returned from our last deployment, both our personal lives were a wreck. There was shit to figure out, and the silence was inevitable.
Perhaps that’s why I only have a handful of friends that have survived the years. I’ve learned that sometimes in adult friendships, lulls happen. It doesn’t make the relationship any less significant, they just happen. Yet so many people expect you to drop everything and take on their burdens, while ignoring the fact that you have shit going on too.
But Alan was one of those friends who understood my silence. I’m the kind of person who handles my struggles quietly, and when life gets stressful, I just need space and time to figure it out on my own.
But we both knew that if one of us needed help, the other would be there.
Maybe that’s why my stomach clenches as I quickly snatch up the phone to answer his call.
“Al. What’s up?”
“Thank god you answered, Jackson,” he sighs in relief. My brow furrows when I hear the muffled sound of a door shutting and a rhythmic beeping in the background.
He’s at a hospital.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, pacing toward my back door, still able to see the waves crashing into the shore as the sun continues to set, using it to help steady my breathing.
“I need a favor. I hate asking—”
