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Hey my beautiful readers! what did you think of  chapter fifteen's edit???

So happy you are here to read more of Abbie and Wyatt's story! what should their ship name be?

Thank you so so much for coming with far with me, it means the world🥰🥰🥰

Where are you guys reading from? who is your favorite character and what are some of your favorite scenes?

Much love and remember to vote my lovelies.❤

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"Sometimes you have

to choose weather

what you're wishin' for

is really what you want."

-Corinne Michaels, Say You'll Stay

ABBIE

SIX WEEKS LATER

"Thursday! It's letter day!" My voice squeals as my alarm rings, for my twelve o'clock mail run. I finish off my coffee and avocado toast before saving my work and resting my laptop on the bed. I launch out from beneath the covers, tossing my long waves to one shoulder before slipping out of my pajama bottoms and into my favorite pair of jeans, the essay can wait a few hours.

Watching from the kitchen window, I toss on a pair of boots, as I wait for another cup of coffee to brew, I see the shiny green Jeep and listen for Jeep's brakes to sing as it comes to a stop at the row of mailboxes in the front of the neighborhood.

"Hi Wonda! Good morning! Any mail for me today?" I say with a chipper smile. As Wonda exits the car, carrying a tote of bills, advertisements, post cards and letters.

"Yes! I believe I have two items addressed to My Abbie."

I take the tote from her, handing her her usual cup of coffee, resting the bright yellow box on the rail, and start handing her each organized stack in order as we small talk, until my fingertips land on the small stack addressed to me. I stand there for a moment, allowing my eyes to slowly trace each letter of Wyatt's penmanship.

"Hmhm" Wonda clears her throat with an outreached hand. I quickly scurry, tucking my hair behind my ear, slipping the envelopes into the back pocket of my jeans with my free hand, before handing her another pile. Why are there only two letters?

"Sorry, uh box D"

"Abagail, you don't have to help me. Go on and read those letters from your mannn! Though I do appreciate the company and my weekly hot cup of joe! Will you be at the diner after my shift today? I can't wait to hear what Wyatt wrote! I just can't get enough of ya'lls cute little love story! I swear, it's sweeter that a hallmark movie!"

"Yes ma'am, I'll actually be putting in my two weeks tonight! I was writing my final essay all morning; I can't believe how fast this course went by! Wonda, I'll be a teacher soon, I'm so excited!"

"Has it been eight-weeks already? And you should be, Wyatt will be so happy to hear the news!"

"Six, just getting ahead start. But it's hard to believe huh?" I look down at the letters that found its way back into my hands.

"Well, I better get going! I've got some reading to do." I say as I walk backwards, waving my small stack of envelopes in the crisp air.

 My schooling started two weeks after Wyatt got deployed, January thirteenth. But I've only known Wonda for three, four weeks today. I remember peering out my kitchen window, every day at noon if I wasn't working or subbing at the school. Resting my chin on the back of my hand as I would watch her fill each mailbox, my heart sinking each day she would open the door only to retrieve my letters and to lower the small red flag.

Six weeks, I moped from that sad kitchen window, until she finally opened the door to my lonely box, sliding a stack of letters all tied together with a thin red ribbon, my entire mood lifted as I rushed through the door!

"Hey! I'm Abbie" I say, breathless from my sprint "Box C."

She takes a step back, giving me a once over rejecting my extended hand at first. I didn't realize how fast and alarming my approach was until her wide eyes met mine. But soon her startled stare, turned into a bright smile as the corners of her mouth lifted, revealing a set of deep symmetrical dimples.

"You're the sad girl from the window!" she takes my hand finally agreeing to shake it. "I, I meant. Well." She paused to start over.

"Hey I'm Wonda." She greets back, still shaking my hand "What I meant to say, is how glad I am to finally be able to deliver you letters! 42 letters at that!" she shouts, her excited demeanor matching mine.

"I wrapped them all together, I hope you don't mind. I can tell they are important to you."

42 letters, all addressed to me, Wyatt had written me every day.

"Thank you!"

As I walk back inside, I'm greeted by Liv in the kitchen.

"Hey, I was wondering where you were, I didn't realize it was Thursday. Got all the letter your heart can bare for the week? She teases, never looking up as she removes each individual cookie from the colling rack.

"Actually I'm a few short, but I'm sure it's nothing." I answer back joining her near the island as I watch her filling containers with freshly baked cookies, lined with patriotic wax paper to add extra cheer.

"These boxes are coming out great Liv!" helping her neatly place the large vinyl stickers spelling out WESTON and WYATT in a suiting camo printed pattern, still warm from her circuit machine along each lid.

My mouth had been watering all morning from the warm scent of vanilla extract and chocolate chips that danced through the air, down the hall, and into my room.

"Now that I packed all the pretty ones for the boys, I suppose I can spare you one or two!" Livi exclaims as her hand settles on her hip, I wouldn't dare to place my hands on those cookies without her permission again. I can still feel the sting on my hand from where she popped me earlier this morning.

The care packages this time are baseball themed boxes, including a real baseball in one and a large pack of big-league chew in the other. Each care package, stuffed with ranch and dill pickle sunflower seeds, peanuts, jerky, packs of ramen, granola bars, canned chicken and tuna, instant hot cocoa and other needed items. Like restocking their travel sized toiletries of 3-in-1 soaps, sunblock, lip balm and oral hygiene products.

They have been ongoing projects, we'd adding more and more things and the days passed by. Randomly stuffing it with treats, slipping in a fan similar to Wyatt's is Weston's box along with batteries while also squeezing in some more personal items for Wyatt like more reading material- a few dystopian classics, per his request, photos to replace the one of me, crosswords, and an old school Gameboy with extra batteries as well.

With two cookies in hand, I walk back to my room, busting open the first letter. Taking a bite of the cookie I sink into my pillows and start to read.

Abbie Marie,

How is work and school going? Send me copies of your essays, I'd love to read them. It would keep me busy. I've read through almost every book I packed, with exception to yours. It hasn't been easy, but I've been limiting my pages. I want it to last, is that crazy? Other than that, I do share housing with another reader, but I'm not sure if our reading preferences are the same. But, I guess if it came down to it, Hardin and I could trade reading material. Lol I hope I'm not rambling too much...I just miss you and wish I could hear your voice.

We didn't do any patrolling today, thank goodness. I know it was weeks ago but honestly the day at the village still gets to me. Anyways, Weston and I stayed on base today, performing maintenance on the rigs with some of the other mechanics stationed here. The terrain is rough here and takes it's toll on these poor trucks, requires us to change out brake pads and check suspension rods pretty often.

Anyways early day tomorrow as usual, sorry this letter is so short, the boys are complaining about the light. I'll write to you again tomorrow, hopefully with some more interesting stories. I love you and I'll be home soon.

P.S. Requesting more pictures of your beautiful face.

Also: batteries and another toothbrush -you were right! You couldn't imagine some of the places you can drop them.

Love, Wyatt

I still smile as my belly fills with butterflies each time I read his words "I love you". No matter how short the passage, or how lazy the day, Wyatt never fails to write me daily, even though the base only sends and receives mail once a week. So why am I four letters short on mail day? He said he was writing again tomorrow.

Regardless, letters like today are much better than reading the time he was shot at, sent with the photo of me with a bullet hole along the bottom as proof. "You saved me once again." Is what he wrote. But I wished he would have kept it, what if it was he good luck charm?

I remember the feeling of pure fear that rippled through my core, my heart sinking with each line. It was like tunnel vision as I consumed every word. How could this world be so cruel? I remember sobbing harder and harder as I read each word. It killed me to not be there, to hold him. That was such a tough read, I remember having to call Josie for support to calm my nerves. His letter so vivid, I had nightmares of him bleeding out on the sandy ground as the young boy cried in fear from the alley way. Since then, I've prayed, a day like that would never come again, that God would protect and shield our soldiers.