Chapter 8 - THE LETTER THAT BROKE THE SILENCE
A week after the trial ended, I got a letter from Vance in prison. It was short, written in messy handwriting:
> I never meant to hurt her. I just wanted someone to see me. You have something I never did—someone who sees you, even when you’re not the hero everyone thinks you are. Take care of her. Be the man I never could be.
I showed it to Amelia. She read it slowly, then folded it and put it away in a drawer.
“He was broken,” she said quietly. “Broken people hurt everyone around them.”
That weekend, we drove out to the old logging trail where Vance had been cornered. We sat on the same rock he’d stood on, watching the wind blow through the pine trees.
“Do you ever miss it?” she asked. “The service? The action?”
I thought about the missions, the brotherhood, the moments when life and death hung on every decision. Then I thought about my garage, our porch, the way the whole town had come together.
May you like
“I miss the people,” I said. “But I don’t miss the fight. Not anymore. Not when I can fight for this.”
---
