Page 46 of Mine to Fear
Because the alternative—giving up, walking away, proving her worst fears right—was unthinkable.
Some people were worth fighting for, even when they couldn’t fight for themselves.
Especially then.
19WILLA
Three weeksinto my grief spiral, when I successfully pushed away the one person who never gave up on me and convinced myself it was for his own good, a package arrived that changed everything.
I sat in the guest room, exiling myself from the life I had nearly shared with Kieran, staring at nothing and trying to figure out how to exist in a world where my brother would never call again. The doorman buzzed up to announce a delivery from the Department of Defense, and my heart stopped.
More paperwork. More official condolences. More reminders that Jude was gone and never coming back.
Kieran signed for it, his face carefully neutral as he brought the package to my door. We barely spoke for days, not since I said those terrible things in the kitchen about him, just feeling guilty for surviving. Not since I tried to convince both of us that what we had wasn’t real, wasn’t worth the risk of inevitable loss.
“It’s addressed to you,” he said simply, setting the small cardboard box on the dresser. “From Jude’s commanding officer.”
Personal effects. The thought made my stomach lurch. Whatever remained of my brother’s life was reduced to whatever could fit in a shipping box.
I waited until Kieran left before opening it, my hands shaking as I cut through the tape. Inside were the few items that mattered enough to send home: his wallet, still carrying a photo of the two of us from my college graduation. His watch, the one our father wore before the accident. A small notebook filled with his handwriting—phone numbers, reminders, fragments of thoughts I never understood.
And at the bottom, an envelope with my name written in his familiar scrawl. Underneath my name, in smaller letters.
To be delivered if something happens to me.
My breath caught. He wrote me a letter. Knowing he might die, knowing he might never come home, my brother had taken the time to write me a letter.
I stared at it for a long time, afraid to open it. Because once I read whatever he wrote, once I heard his voice from beyond the grave, it would make his death feel final in a way that all the official notifications hadn’t managed.
But I needed to hear his voice. Even if it broke me completely.
Willa,
If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it home. I’m sorry for that, Will. I’m sorry I won’t be there to grow old and embarrass you with stories about all the trouble you got into when we were young.
But I’m not sorry I chose to serve. I’m not sorry I chose to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. That’s what we do, right? We take care of each other. We stand between the people we love and the things that want to hurt them.
I need you to know that I’m not afraid to die. I’ve never been afraid to die, because I know you’re going to be okay. You’re stronger than you think, smarter than you give yourself credit for, braver than you’ve ever been. You don’t need me to take care of you anymore.
What you need is to stop using me as an excuse to be scared.
I know you, Willa. I know that right now you’re probably sitting somewhere safe, pushing away everyone who cares about you because you think loving people is too dangerous. You think that if you don’t let anyone get close, you can’t get hurt again.
But that’s not living. That’s just surviving. And you deserve so much more than survival.
I’ve been waiting for you and Kieran to stop being idiots and admit you’re perfect for each other since before either of you knew it yourselves. I’ve watched you two dance around each other for years, both of you too scared to take the risk.
Stop being scared, Willa.
Kieran’s been in love with you since you were seventeen years old. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up. He’s a good man—ruined, just like us. But good. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. He’ll protect you when you need protecting, challenge you when you need challenging, and love you even when you’re being stubborn and impossible.
Don’t make him wait forever.
I want you to be happy. I want you to choose love, even if I’m not there to see it. Especially if I’m not there to see it. Don’t let my death be an excuse to stop living your life.
Promise me something. Promise me you’ll take the risk. Promise me you’ll let yourself be loved by someone who sees all your broken pieces and chooses you anyway. Promise me you’ll build something beautiful with whatever time you have, instead of hiding from it.
I carried that metal box through every foster home because it reminded me that we came from love, even when we lost it too soon. But you don’t have to just remember love, Willa. You can create it. You can choose it. You can be brave enough to build it with someone worth the risk.
