Rosie watched you across from the bar on base—talking with your friends, with other guys. He knew he had no right to be, but he was angry. No. He was jealous, actually. He had pushed you away—not the other way around. Saying he wanted to focus on flying, and that you should focus on being a medic. Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

In the bar, full of pilots and nurses alike, Rosie felt invisible—he hated it. He used to hold your attention. But, he’d done this to himself, hadn’t he?