I wake up the next morning with a solid morning wood. I’ve been having some heavy dreams lately and they’re all about fucking Dakota Rogers’ brains out. God, was yesterday real? Did that really fucking happen?

I walk into the bathroom, jerk off in the shower for the hundredth time, and get ready for my day at the construction site. Truth is, it’s some really hard work. I saw and did plenty of rough jobs in Afghanistan, but it’s been three years since I’ve trained. This work is brutal.

My body aches and my hands are sore, but I have to do it. If I’m going to live out here, I have to give it my all. It’s the only way I’m going to get her back. And I’m definitely saving her from Danny. I walk out my door and head toward the job.

“What an abusive piece of shit,” I mutter, drilling a large nail into place. Dobbins is steadily holding a beam that’s secure on some kind of levy system. It’s heavy and he’s sighing pretty loudly so I go over to help him out. “Am I right? I should kill the guy, right?”

The men on the lower level grab the beam and give us the thumbs up. “I don’t know,” he laughs. “He sounds like a piece of work, but what’re you gonna do? Steal her?”

My eyes light up and I raise my eyebrows in thought. “That’s not a bad fucking idea,” I laugh. “I’ll kill him and then I’ll steal her.”

“Well if you need an alibi, I am not your guy,” he says. “I just worked with the guy, I’ll tell ‘em.”

“So much for having my back.”

“Yeah, well. To each his own,” he shrugs.

When the day is done and we’re feeling pretty shitty, he slaps my back. “You look worn out, kid,” he says. “Why don’t you come out with the rest of the guys and get a drink or two?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I’ve got some things I have to take care of.”

“Like what? Staring at your wall? Masturbating yourself to sleep?” he laughs. The men around turn to me and laugh with him. “Come on. It’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a while.”

I’ve been out all day, but I go anyway. There’s no use in arguing. Plus, he’s probably right. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I haven’t spent every hour thinking about Dakota. I need a day to myself.

The sun ahead of us, hangs at the corner of the sky. Not quite night, not quite the afternoon. It’s stuck in the limbo period that’s always made my mind yearn for more things than I have in front of me. When we walk in the bar, I think of her. When I order a drink, I think of her. When I see a woman smile to her date, I think of Dakota’s cute smile and the way her cheeks crease against her beautiful lips. Every second is spent thinking of her.

I grab the cold bottle of Bud and knock it back, finishing it within seconds. “Damn!” Dobbins yells, clapping. “That’s one thirsty kid. Get another one for him, will ya?”

The bartender grabs another bottle and slides it down my way. I open it and this time sip on it. “There ya go,” Dobbins says. “Pace yourself. We have all night.”

It doesn’t take much to get me integrated with these guys. They’re loudmouth, blue-collar folks with hard lives. And even though I didn’t grow up quite like them, I have their respect because I served to protect them. Only, they don’t know what it’s like over there. No one does. It’s a bit awkward to explain.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jeff says to me with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His hair is greased back and shiny looking, and every so often, I catch him glancing at himself in the mirror. “You get stabbed twice and shot at by some Isis folks. Then, you come back, and spend three whole years trying to find some broad? And she’s married?” he asks.

I shrug and take another drink. He laughs. “Let me just ask you this. Why?” The whole table bursts out laughing and I can’t help but smile.

“Jeff, I’m going to answer your question with another question,” I laugh. “Have you ever met a woman that you can’t stop thinking about? Have you ever spent one night in the Afghan desert, freezing your balls off, the only thing keeping you alive being the thought of her in your arms again? Have you ever gotten stabbed, laid in the dirt, bleeding out, and the only thing you can think about is writing one last letter to the woman you can’t get out of your head?”

The whole table is silent. If someone were to drop a pin, I’d be able to hear it echo throughout the building. “That’s what I thought,” I say, motioning for the bartender. “Another beer please.”

“Shit!” Jeff yells. “Get this man ten!” he bursts out laughing again, slapping the table.

I like these guys, I decide. They’re different. They’re rough around the edges, but they help me pass the time. “Anyway,” I start again after I’ve gotten about halfway through my drink, “it’s what I’ve set out to do. I don’t know if I’ll fail or not. I think she loves me, but you never can tell with these things. Her husband beats her. I have no doubt in my mind that’s true. She practically admitted it herself.”

Jeff clears his throat and slams his fist against the table. “Dammit!” he yells. “We’re going to find that son of a bitch and we’re going to give him something he’ll remember!”

“Settle down,” I wave my hand at him. “It hasn’t come to that. Yet. I want to think that this thing can end clean with him.” I shake my head when I say the words. Even I know that won’t happen.

“Boy, I may dumber than you, but I’ve lived a hell of a lot longer,” he says. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that shit like this, it don’t end easy. But that’s why you gotta do it. If it was easy, you think it would be worth it?”

I nod at him and finish my beer. “I suppose you’re right,” I tell him, placing a twenty on the table. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. I have some things to take care of. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Same time tomorrow?” Jeff yells at me just as I’m walking out.

“Sounds good,” I tell him.

I step out onto the humid street and the sun’s gone down beyond the horizon. I’m drunk, but not too drunk to know where I am. I hear the bar door open and shut again behind me and I turn around to see who it is. It’s Dobbins.

“Hey, it’s getting late for me too,” he says. “How about I walk you home?”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I tell him. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Payton, New York is a beautiful place. A wonderful place, actually. But at night, in this area, it gets a little rough. Ever hear of the Luciotti Family?” he asks me.

“Nah,” I mutter. “I have a feeling I don’t want to either.”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “You don’t. Hell, you might be fine. But it’s better not to take any chances."

We walk the lonely streets of Brooklyn, stumbling and talking about better and worse times. I tell him a few stories about the war, about Savage and he tells me about his stint in prison.

“That Savage guy sounds like a bad ass motherfucker,” he says. The way he says it makes me laugh. He gives the motion of wielding a fully automatic and I chuckle lightly to myself.

I can’t concentrate on anything anymore. I try and just make my way through the day by looking down, doing my work, and getting home as soon as I can. Today’s been different, however, and I hope it marks a turning point. Although, I’m not too sure.

She seems like she still loves me. Shit, maybe I’m just projecting. I really don’t know. All I know is what I want and what I need, and it’s her. Maybe I’m selfish. Okay, I’m definitely selfish. I just feel like I know what’s right.

“Did she read those letters you sent to her?” Dobbins asks me. “If she did, she’ll surely be with you. You really wrote her every single day?”

“Every single day, man,” I laugh. “She said she never got them. God, I don’t know how many letters there were. There had got to be at least 85, maybe even close to 100. They’re all gone now, I guess.”

“Shit,” he grunts. We arrive at my house and I put out my hand. “In any case, I think you’ll do good. Just keep fighting for her. Don’t give up. That Danny guy sounds like a huge asshole. If he’s as bad as you say he is, she already wants out. It’s just up to you to get her to act on her wishes.”

“What if she’s brainwashed? What if it’s too late?” I ask him.

“Buddy, it’s never too late,” he says. “Trust me on that. I’m an older guy. I’ve been in similar situations.”

He shakes my hand and I nod with a slight smile. “Thanks, Dobbins.” I turn around and jiggle the old lock open with my key. “You’ve been a real friend to me out here.”

“No worries,” he says. “I’ll see you at the site after the weekend.”

I shut the door behind me and head upstairs, to my apartment. When I get inside, there’s a piece of paper under my door.

It’s simple and small, and it’s been cut out. I recognize that paper. It’s from my letters! It’s the same parchment I used over there, I swear. I jump on my mattress and hold the note in my hand. It reads:

I read them. Every single one. And I reread them every second that I can. It’s the only thing I look forward to. Please take care of yourself, Payton. There may not be much hope left for me, but you have a wonderful life ahead of you. I can’t wait to see where you take it.

I set the paper down on the mattress and grab my pillow, closing my eyes. There’s hope for both of us, I think to myself. Both of us.