At first, the ride back was quiet. We were spent, and the roads were dark again. No bright lights. No buzzing of city streets. No interesting people from all walks of life. Just dark stretches of road ahead. But I wanted to know why Bobby brought me all the way to Chicago. Yes, I knew it was to take me out of my neighborhood, remind me of the carefree fun I used to have, but I felt like he was trying to tell me a story without saying the words.

“Tell me about Curtis” I requested sleepily.

Bobby sighed faintly, as if part of him was relieved I asked and part of him dreaded the inevitable discussion. “Well, like Will said, we were stationed together. And man he was something else. The kind of person you couldn't stay mad at, even when he drove you nuts,” he chuckled.

“I know a little something about that,” I grinned.

“I guess you do,” Bobby acquiesced. “We used to talk about what we'd do when we got back. He was going to marry his girl. And I told him I had a girl back home, too,” he confessed.

“Will told me he knew who I was,” I disclosed, looking down.

Bobby nodded, recognizing I knew at least part of the story. “You know, when you're in that state—hungry, tired, weak, broken—you need something to get you through it. Some sort of beacon, because it gets so dark, Lil. A darkness you don't even know exists in you comes out.”

I swallowed back the tears. I wanted to pull over the pickup and hold him, but I knew it wasn't right.

“Sometimes, when it was quiet enough, I would think about that night. I'd relive it. And it would take me to the best moment of my life. And I'd just replay it whenever I wanted to leave but I couldn't. It allowed me to go someplace good, somewhere safe and happy. So, I told Curtis that I had a girl named Lilly waiting at home for me. Even if I knew I could never live that fantasy, even if I knew it meant that one day I would come back to find you living a happy life with my brother and your kids. I still wanted to come back to you.”

I felt guilt I couldn't assign to a single act. Guilt for not being there for Bobby when he finally showed up. Guilt for assuming he had forgotten me. Guilt for the feelings that stirred in me all night in the presence of my husband's brother.

“So, um . . .” Bobby let out a drawn breath before continuing. “Listen, I didn't tell Rory this because I'm back and I don't think there's a point in rehashing. But, um, well, a little over a week before being shot, our aircraft got shot down in South Korea. We were captured and taken to a POW camp. At first, it was what you'd expect. It was hell, but we were fed, at least a little, and given water. But a few days in, some of us were transferred to Waegwan, known as Hill 303.”

I covered my mouth in shock. He had almost flippantly described his last days in the war to Rory while I listened. Just another adventure to tack to his long list. This version was not the watered down story he had told Rory over the kitchen table.

“Lil, there weren't any rules there. Yeah, wars have rules, but you get people pointing guns and missiles at each other and the rules break down. They starved us and beat us. Sometimes they would just shoot a random prisoner.”

I gasped under my breath.

“Anyway, we were there for a few days when the first and second battalions came in to save us. There were hours of battling. As the troops closed in on us, they started frantically rounding up prisoners on the hill, executing as many as they could before capture. They lined us up all in this long line and someone went one by one, down the line, shooting us in the back of the head. I thought we were done.”

I watched his eyes as they viewed a scene from the past as vividly as if it was happening again.

“And as the executor neared us, Curtis whispered two things to me.”

Bobby stopped. He went dead silent. The silence carried for a minute. I helped him carry it by not saying a word, not moving an inch. Bobby was fun. Bobby was carefree. To see him like this . . . nothing crushed my heart like watching him fight back the glistening in his eyes.

Finally, I placed my hand on his knee. “You don't have to tell me.”

He took a deep, shaky breath. “No, I need to.” He nodded, prepping himself to continue. “He said, 'tell my brother and my girl I love them, and get home to your girl.'“

Those words, like a stealth punch to the chest, took my breath away.

“They shot him. And then they pointed the gun at me. And some American soldier shot the executor. His gun went off and got me in the shoulder. And I survived. Me and just a handful of others.”

My chest grew tight as I realized how close my hunch that he had died had been to reality. I had converted my love to hate, because it was so much easier to grieve him that way. It was a version of the way I had always dealt with Bobby, veiling my confused feelings towards him with defensiveness. I kept telling myself somehow Bobby being dead was better. That it made my life more bearable. And I hated myself for ever convincing myself of that.

“Sometimes I still can't believe it. Sometimes I wake up and I feel myself to make sure I'm still here. How is it that he's gone, but I'm still here? He was right there . . .” Bobby’s voice trailed off in genuine disbelief.

“I'm so sorry about Curtis. He sounded like an amazing person.”

“You would have loved him. You would have wanted to strangle him.”

We both laughed sadly.

“I know it's kooky, what I did. Telling myself some bullshit fantasy like a little kid. But I should have died in that camp. And I think it worked, writing to you, thinking about coming back to you. Even if it was just to see you again for a day. Even if I knew nothing could come of seeing you again.

Finally, the tears I refused to shed in front of him, the tears of relief and regret, poured from my eyes. “I said you should have stayed dead. I didn't mean it, Bobby. I'm so sorry. I never meant it. That was so cruel of me.”

“I know you didn’t.” His hand caressed my hand resting on his lap.

“I'm so happy you're back.” I clutched the hand on top of mine, lifting it to my face and sobbed into it. “I thought you were dead. All these years . . .”

Bobby stole several brief glances at me, trying to maintain his eyes on the road. “Hey. Hey,” he said sympathetically. He pulled his hand from my grasp and propped up my chin. “You got me through it. Okay?”

I nodded. Maybe this could be enough. Maybe we could be best friends. Bobby was prepared to be content to see me again, even if meant seeing me with someone else, unlike the first time around when he left. If he could put those emotions aside, then I could, too.

“You should rest up,” he said, reaching to the back of the cab for a jacket and passing it to me. I wrapped myself in his scent, the closest I could allow myself to linger in his embrace. I didn't care how hot it was. Then, I dozed off.

I woke up to Bobby gently shaking me. “Wake up. I have one more surprise,” he said.

I pulled myself out of my slumber and the cocoon of his jacket.

“Where are we?” I asked, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. My vision followed the landscape illuminated by the headlights and in a second I realized where we were—a sight ingrained into my mind no matter how long it had been since my last visit. It was the Lightlys' lake house. The place I spent long summer days swimming and running and climbing with the boys.

The place I married Rory and the last place I saw Bobby before he left.