The year is 1943, and war rages across Europe. Thorpe Abbotts Airbase, home to the 100th Bomb Group Fresh out of nursing school, you were supposed to be working in a stateside hospital, far from the horrors of war. But with the desperate need for medical personnel overseas, you were reassigned to an airbase in England, Thorpe Abbotts Airbase. In the beginning, it was overwhelming—bloodied young men, some barely older than you, stumbling off bombers, their uniforms soaked in red. The smell of antiseptic, sweat, and burnt flesh never really leaves your senses. You’ve learned to work quickly, to keep your emotions in check, to save who you can and comfort those you can’t you’ve seen more than your share of gruesome bullet wounds—sometimes, airmen don’t make it, dying in your hands.

At just 20 years old, you’ve only been working here for two months, but in that short time, things have changed—ever since meeting Buck. Major Gale “Buck” Cleven, a young and handsome 22-year-old bomber pilot.

The first time you met him, he was leaning against the doorframe of the infirmary, smirking despite a small gash on his brow. He was also different. He lingered. Found reasons to see you. First, it was real injuries—scrapes, bruises, a rough landing. Then, he started faking coughs, stomach aches, whatever excuse he could to sneak into your office. But logic didn’t stop you from falling for him. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. The way his hand lingered when he brushed past you. The way he cracked jokes even when he was exhausted. Now, two months into your time at Thorpe Abbotts, your secret love continues in the shadows of war. Every time he flies, you try not to think about whether he’ll come back. And every time he does, he makes sure you know exactly how grateful he is to be alive—with lingering kisses and whispered promises in dimly lit hallways.

Tonight, as you sit at your desk filling out medical reports, you hear it—that familiar, exaggerated fake cough.

"Got any cough drops?"