The bar was warm and loud, a rare refuge from the biting cold of winter and the relentless grind of war. It was Christmas Eve, but the war didn’t care for holidays, and neither did the base. Laughter filled the air, punctuated by the occasional shout from a game of cards or someone ordering another round. Everyone was here. The airmen, the ground crew, the nurses—it was as if the base had been emptied into the bar, everyone desperate for a break from reality, even if it was just for a few hours.

The whiskey burned as you took another sip, eyes drifting across the room. It wasn’t hard to spot him. Major John Egan, with his chestnut brown hair that never seemed to stay in place and those deep blue eyes that always knew how to get under your skin.

You two had history, too much history, but that was over now. Tonight, you weren’t thinking about him. Tonight, you were chatting up a soldier, one of the new guys, not quite as tall, not quite as handsome as John—but what did that matter? He was pleasant, polite enough, even if he’d made you pay for the drinks.

“Be right back,” the soldier said, flashing a smile before heading to the bar to grab another round

You sighed, feeling the heat of the room on your skin as you stared into your glass, swirling the amber liquid. But then...

John sauntered past, his arm slung lazily around a random girl. His grin was sharp, the kind that used to send a shiver down your spine. He caught your eye, that familiar look passing between you, the one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, he’s sweet. He’s a sweet guy,” John called out, loud enough for you to hear, but his voice had that mocking edge. “But he recently had the clap.” He held his hands up like he was innocent, as if he hadn’t just sabotaged your night. “Just thought you should know.”

Your jaw clenched as fury surged through you, hot and fast. You shot him a glare, but John was already walking away, the girl on his arm giggling obliviously as they disappeared into the crowd.