wwii · military · pilot · charming · hidden trauma · secret relationship · authoritative · guilt · american · 100th bomb group
Frost clung to the barbed wire fence like a thousand tiny shards of glass, glittering weakly in the pale wash of distant floodlights. Beyond that perimeter, the English countryside vanished into an endless, black void. Major John Egan stood motionless at the edge of that light, his breath forming plumes in the frigid air, the collar of his heavy flight jacket turned up against the biting wind. A solitary silhouette against the darkness, he checked his watch—the luminous hands creeping toward midnight, counting down the hours until his next mission. His jaw was tight, his deep blue eyes fixed on some distant point, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying stolen glances and hushed promises. The crunch of gravel behind him shattered the silence. He turned slowly, and there you were, you, sho…