Perfect Soldier: The Complete Story (5-Part BBW Military Romance Novel)

by Nix, Haley

  Also, I think I’m going to start working on Vet school applications as well. It’s crazy, but I was just thinking the other day how I’m almost done with my requirements. I’ll be able to finish up in two semesters at this rate, which means I could potentially be enrolling in vet school this time next year. Of course there’s the matter of finding the money, but I’m getting ahead of myself…

  My main goal right now is to stay focused on the present. When I think too far into the future, I tend to neglect what’s going on right now. But you’ve got to go through the present to get to the future, right?

  Thinking of the future also just makes me wonder about when you’re coming home. Do you have any idea? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep asking that question when I know that you don’t know for sure yourself. I just keep hoping that one day I’ll get a phone call again like right before we went to Paris, only this time you’ll be telling me you’re coming home for good.

  Again, I’m not trying to sound unsupportive. I know this is important to you, and it’s important to me, too. I really mean that from the bottom of my heart. But you’re important to me, too. Not just as a soldier, but for being the man that you are.

  I can't wait to have you back in my life on a daily basis. And thanks again for taking me to Paris. It was absolutely magical, especially with you at my side.

  As always, please stay safe. I miss you so much, Colt.

  Love,

  Cat

  ***

  Catherine

  I re-read the letter twice before sending it. It was clear that what I felt for him was something new to me, something stronger than I’d ever felt before. The last few paragraphs of the letter I’d just written provided conclusive evidence. I hadn’t poured my heart out like that in a long time. I sealed the envelope and dropped it in the mailbox on my way to the Registrar’s office the next day.

  About three weeks later I heard back from Colt. It was after my first week of classes of the semester. I came home that day at 6:30 PM. I had a shift at the bar coming up, but I was feeling so damn tired I thought I might call in and just watch some Netflix. But I knew I couldn’t do that in good conscience; I didn’t want to make things harder for everyone else just because I felt lazy. I’d need to go inside and have a quick dinner, put on some make-up, change and head to work.

  I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, dreading the next several hours of my life. On the way, I stopped at my mailbox and found a letter from Colt inside. I smiled to myself as I cradled it gently in my hand, as is it was some kind of precious artifact. At least there was some upside to this day.

  ***

  Dear Cat,

  I’m happy to hear you’re taking a risk and going in for Advanced Bio. I think you’ve got the right attitude, and I’ll be excited to hear how it’s going once classes start up.

  Things have been low-key here as I transition back into military life. It’s surprising how much even a short time away can throw one off. The environment here is a bit different from when I left. I’d almost describe it as boring. In general, we seem a bit overstaffed, so I’m thinking that some of us are about to be re-assigned to a new operation in one of the other provinces, but that’s purely speculation on my part.

  Ultimately, however, things are good. I’ve been going on patrols without trouble or concern. Honestly, I think the deadliest thing in the area might be the horrible food I’ve been eating lately. I’m definitely not in Paris anymore, that’s for damn sure.

  As far as when I might come home, I don’t know anything new in that regard, but I’ve been trying to feel things out by talking with some of my superiors. I don’t want to get your hopes up, especially so early on, but I’m looking into what possibility there is for domestic assignments. It would be something along the lines of analyzing intelligence for the military.

  I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately and I know that in the end I just want to be closer to you. I’m doing everything in my power to make that happen. The Army has been good to me, but maybe it’s time to explore a new period in my life. Regardless, I hope you’re a part of it.

  Love,

  Colt

  P.S.: I’m very happy to hear about the Vet school applications. Let me know where you’re applying!

  Chapter Five

  Catherine

  Seeing that letter from Colt totally put things in perspective. Sure, heading to work was the last thing I wanted to do right now, but it could be worse. I had a man who loved me. Even if he was on the other side of the world, just having him in my life was still more than most people had.

  Something about these long distance conversations via letter, no matter how slow they proceeded, made me feel connected with him. All of the sudden I was excited. I wanted to sit down and pen a reply right away, but that would have to wait until after work. I went to my room and changed, then headed out to the bar.

  Of course, later that night I was far too exhausted to write my response. I got back to the apartment after 2:30 AM. It had been a great night for tips, but in other respects it had been a nightmare. There had been a fight at the bar. One of the musical acts had showed up drunk. The crowd booed and a bottle was thrown. That’s when the ruckus broke out.

  The bouncers broke it up, but one guy had a bloodied nose and I ended up having to spend about a half an hour dealing with the cops. It really was the opposite of what I needed after a long first week of classes.

  So I collapsed into bed as soon as I got home, too tired to even take off my clothes and change into pajamas. I’d write Colt a response in the morning.

  ***

  Dear Colt,

  I’m glad to hear that things have settled down there. You know how concerned I was when I found that scar on the back of your leg. To hear you say that you’re looking into a way to come home, well, that just makes my day.

  I’ll try not to get my hopes up, but the thought of having you back here again, of waking up each day to find you next to me… well, it makes me happier than I can even describe. I hope it’s not just a fantasy.

  I started classes this week, actually. They are really freaking intense. Usually the first week isn’t bad, but this semester already seems more difficult. I’m honestly kind of intimidated. Between this and the Vet school apps and work, I’m going to be a very busy girl over the next few months. But that’s good, it will make time go by faster.

  As far as where I’m applying, I’m not positive yet. I’ve got a few preliminary ideas, but since each application costs around $50 or more, I want to at least try to narrow it down a little bit. It’s a long process, too, for each application, so I don’t want to overload myself by applying to too many. I’ll figure it out; I think I’m going to go talk to some of my professors for advice (I have to ask for letters of recommendation anyway, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone).

  Please let me know any details about job options back home as soon as they become available. Again, I really will try not to get my hopes up, but the mere possibility of this makes me smile. I hope that you want it as badly as I do.

  Stay safe and write soon. I can’t tell you how much these little letters do for me.

  Love,

  Cat

  ***

  Colton

  By the time I received my next letter from Cat, I’d already been re-assigned to another province. Things had cooled down so much in Helmand that they could afford to send most of our contingent elsewhere. Fortunately, Percy and I were both re-assigned at the same time. At least I’d have a close friend with me as I ventured to a new place.

  I’d also started looking more seriously into opportunities back stateside. I discussed the matter with one of my lieutenants when I first found out that some of us would be leaving Helmand. He promised to look into the matter for me. He told me that if the operation in Kandahar went well, I was in a good position to be considered for a domestic post, especially since I’d been wounded in action. I thanked him for his support and crossed my finger
s. Maybe things were about to take a turn for the better.

  A few days after I received Cat’s letter, I joined a military convoy headed to Kandahar. It was a slow and arduous process. There was a lot of equipment to transport, very expensive equipment containing advanced technology that absolutely couldn’t be allowed to fall into the hands of insurgents. While the journey wasn’t long distance-wise, we knew there was a good chance we would come under enemy fire.

  About thirty miles after we left Lashkar Gah, we fell under attack as several rounds of bullets pierced the sides of our heavily-armored Humvee. One of the gunners spun around the turret and sent fire back into the hills in the direction of the initial shots. From here to Kandahar, this would become a fairly typical procedure. Fortunately, these insurgents didn’t seem to have the heavy weaponry necessary to pierce our armored vehicles and we were able to make it through with little panic and minimized damage to our equipment.

  As we rolled into Kandahar, I realized that the operations ahead would be difficult. Kandahar was a medium-sized city that had been relatively stable over the preceding months – at least in the city center. The problem came primarily from outside, where militants had set up bases from which they launched intermittent attacks in the heart of the city.

  Our mission over the coming months would be to root out these bases, taking them by storm and capturing and killing as many insurgents as possible. Needless to say, this wasn’t something I’d be mentioning to Cat in my letters home.

  ***

  Dear Cat,

  I hope you’re doing well and that school has gotten a bit easier as you’ve settled into the semester. Even if it’s difficult, I know you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to. Remember, if you need to take some time off from work to focus on classes and applications, that’s always an option.

  As I mentioned in my last letter, life has been quieter here. So quiet that most of my contingent has been re-assigned to a new area. I’m actually writing this letter from the new base that I’m stationed at. The nature of the operation is a bit different than last time, but I think it will be an interesting assignment.

  This will unfortunately have to be a shorter letter from me, as there is always a lot of work to be done when setting up and adjusting to a new base. I hope everything is going well. Please write again soon. I feel the same way about your letters as you do about mine.

  Love,

  Colt

  Chapter Six

  Catherine

  Life went on much like this for the next several months, with the intensity of classes and applications broken up only by letters from Colt. I don’t know if I can say it ever got easier, but at least I got a little more used to this routine.

  My semester never slowed down. Advanced Biology was whole a different beast, and it’s safe to say I spent more hours reading and studying for that class than the other two combined. I joined another study group, which helped, but it was still a massive time commitment. There was just something about Bio that didn’t click with my brain – which meant I had to make up what I lacked with a lot of hard work.

  When I got back my graded midterm in late October, I’d received a 67 on it. I was crushed. That was barely above failing. I remember going home in tears that day. I looked in my mailbox hoping I would find a letter from Colt, something that could brighten the day at least a little bit. But all I found was junk mail.

  I emailed the professor to set up a meeting with him so I could ask him what I could do better, or if there was any extra credit I could do to improve my grade. I knew that one bad grade could ruin my chances at Vet school, so I was feeling pretty vulnerable about it.

  I wrote a letter to Colt that afternoon, telling him about the bad grade, but I tore it up before I sent it. It might sound weird, but I didn’t want to tell him about my failure. It isn’t like he wouldn’t be supportive, but I was just too proud to admit defeat.

  After my next Bio class, I met with the professor, Dr. Hilton, in his office to talk about the exam. I didn’t speak much in class, so he didn’t really know me by name, but he was polite and friendly, and seemed ready to answer any question I asked. He also seemed a bit absent-minded.

  “Have a seat,” said Dr. Hilton, after I’d knocked on his open office door. “What was your name again?”

  “Cat. Catherine Simmons, I mean,” I said nervously.

  “Right, right. What was it you wanted to see me about again?” he asked.

  “My grade on the last test. To put it bluntly, I did horribly and I was hoping I could do some extra credit or get some help or something.”

  “I don’t do extra credit in my class,” he said, his tone changing from friendly to serious. “It’s unfair to the students who do well without extra help.”

  “Oh,” I said, showing my dejection.

  But then I decided to press him further.

  “Listen, I know you have your policy, but I’m trying really hard here. I’m applying to Vet school this year and one bad grade will ruin my chances at that. If there’s anything you can do, I’d seriously appreciate it,” I said pleadingly, but with a certain self-confidence at the same time.

  “Remind me,” he said, his voice softening. “What was it you got on this test again?”

  “A 67.”

  Dr. Hilton smiled and broke out into a low laugh. This seemed uncharacteristically insensitive and unprofessional for a professor. Never in my life had I seen any teacher or professor openly make fun of a student for a bad grade. It made me feel defiant.

  “I don’t see what’s funny about that. I worked my ass of in this class and I’m doing the best I can,” I said angrily.

  Dr. Hilton held a hand up asking for silence. I waited patiently for him to speak.

  “Catherine, you’re fine. Really, you are perfectly fine. You don’t need any extra credit.”

  “Wait. What?” I asked confusedly.

  “Have you asked any of the other students what they got on the midterm?”

  “No, that’s their private business.”

  “Well, if you had, you wouldn’t be here in my office right now, trust me,” said Dr. Hilton.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The class average on the midterm was a 49,” he said, looking back at me with a smile. “I pride myself on being a hard grader. If I don’t push my students, then I won’t get to see them at their very best. That being said, I curve up to a seventy-five average. Now, you’ll have to check the math, but that should bring your grade up to a 93. That was one of the highest grades on this midterm.”

  It took a second before that news sunk in. Then a massive smiled spread across my face and I felt the happiest I’d been since leaving Paris months ago.

  “I can’t believe this!” I said ecstatically, almost squealing with delight.

  The professor put a finger up to his lips telling me to quiet down.

  “Sorry,” I said, reining in my excitement.

  “No, it’s fine. You deserve to celebrate. I was very impressed. If only all my students did this well.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Hilton,” I said getting up. “This is a huge relief for me.”

  He smiled and I turned to walk out of his office. As I left, he called me back.

  “Catherine,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “If you happen to need a letter of recommendation for Vet school, I would be very happy to write one. I’m sure you have lots of other professors willing to do so as well, I just thought I’d extend the offer,” he said with a warm smile.

  “Thank you, Dr. Hilton. I might just take you up on that.”

  Chapter Seven

  Colton

  In early November, I received a letter from Cat telling me about her midterms. She was absolutely dominating in her classes this semester and I wished desperately that I could congratulate her in person; the letter I wrote in response just didn’t seem to suffice. It was impossible for me to convey to her through written language alone just how damn proud o
f her I was.

  Her mood seemed different in that letter, happier and lighter. Maybe part of that was because I hadn’t been telling her much about the details of my life lately. Things over here were much rougher. We’d suffered an abnormally high percentage of casualties on our first few missions on the outskirts of Kandahar – night raids gone bad.

  Most of the time, we got our enemy, but not without losing some of our own. I lost count of the number of evacuation helicopters I saw airlifting wounded troops over those first few weeks into the new operation. Knowing the specific number would have made it even more depressing.

  But still, I kept working diligently. My spirits weren’t exactly high, but I didn’t let that show. I was here to do my job. This was a risk I had willingly assumed. I could only hope that Cat was praying for my safe return.

  As the weeks rolled on, things began to slow down. In Afghanistan, spring and summer are typically the times of highest casualties; together, they make up what we refer to as “fighting season.” Fighting season had bled over into fall this year, but as winter drew closer, the high intensity skirmishes started to become fewer and farther between.

  This was a welcome development for myself and the rest of the soldiers. There was a palpable tension at the base after suffering so many casualties in September and October. People began to worry about whether they might be the next to disappear into an evacuation helicopter. By around Thanksgiving, the environment had largely stabilized.

  Thanksgiving was a tough time of year for me whenever I was overseas. It was a holiday to be spent surrounded by good food and good people. I had the latter, but definitely not the former. This was the time when I missed Cat most acutely.