Hey guys! So this is another tester story. If you like it, I'll continue writing it but if you don't it will just be dropped. So make sure you review or subscribe or whatever you do on here.

This is basically like the book/movie Dear John, but with different people and a semi-different plot. ALL RIGHTS GO TO NICHOLAS SPARKS. He's an amazing writer and you guys should all check out one of his books.

All character rights go to Stephanie Meyer, I can't say she's an amazing writer though because I hate her books, but I love messing around with them!

So I hope you enjoy!

Prologue

Forks, 2007

I can't even remember what the army was like before her letters had started to arrive. Those letters literally got me through the day. Back then there was nothing better than reading her neatly written words. I remember I'd laugh to myself seeing how her perfectly neat handwriting slowly transformed into a messy scrawl as her hand got tired. The guys would always give me shit after I was done reading her letters. They'd make a shitty day ten times happier, and no matter what I'd always smile and laugh when reading them.

I remember before I met Bella there was this reporter doing some kind of tag-along job with my unit. I understood the fact that he was a reporter and that reporter's ask questions. But there came a point when I got really annoyed with him, he'd ask personal questions that didn't have one thing to do with the army and it pissed me off. The answers to those questions weren't any of his business. I had always had a temper and in two ways that temper was good and bad for the army. Now, when I look back on it, I don't really understand why I got so angry when he asked me that specific question. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't know what love really was at the time and that I had never ever had one person tell me that they love me and actually mean it. So when he asked me "What does it truly mean to love another?" I punched him in the face.

Love was a foreign thing to me back then and for years that question would go on to haunt me. I'd like to believe I know the answer to that question now but I don't anymore. There was a time in my life when I did. Now I realize how short that time was and how much I should've appreciated what I had at the time. When I was young I never saw the typical family scenery. Not even my friends had that life. I didn't want it neither, I was glad not having parents. I had grown to hate marriage and the thought of the all American family life, but most of all I had grown to hate love. I hated love when I was younger, or more like I hated the idea of love. Even though I'm more aware of what love is since I have experienced it, I now hate it once again. When I was younger I hated the idea of getting married. I hated the idea of the perfect family, the soccer mom and the white picket fence. I just hated everything that I knew I could never have.

Once I met Bella my views on all of that changed. I suddenly wanted all of it. I wanted the white picket fence, the SUV that would get so messy because of the trips to soccer games and school events. I wanted kids and I wanted out of the army so we could start that life. I felt great. Love felt so good, but when your first experience with love comes, your first experience with true heart break follows along behind it. I had experienced disappointment in my life, a whole lot of disappoint but never had I experienced heart break and damn, did it hurt like a bitch. The day she left was the day my thoughts turned negative about love once again.

I'd like to believe that no matter how long it's been Bella and I could still make it through this. We could meet up again and reconnect. I can hold her in my arms and whisper in her ear. And while part of me wants believes that's possible, I know that's not possible. When I leave here again, I'll never come back.

For now though, I'll sit here on this rock, somewhere in the mountains. It overlooks the meadow that her large modern white house sits in. The house is so unlike Bella, but so like him. When we were together she'd always talk about getting a nice beach house near the water somewhere. But that was back then and this is now. I have to remember times have change and when times change, so do people.

I have no plans to tell her I came to visit her, well more of see her than visit. I have no plans to speak to her; I just want to see her face one last time. Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close that I could simply go to her house and talk to her. And as simple as that does sound, I wouldn't even know what to say once face to face with her. She'd be so close but so untouchable, and that aches my heart to no end. We have two separate lives now. It's rather hard for me to accept that truth, but our lives haven't intertwined in six years.

The trees around me look the same as they did when I use to hike this forest with her, I didn't expect anything to change in the years I've been gone and true to my thoughts nothing changed but me and Bella. Forks looks the same now as it did so long ago. It's still dreary and rainy, and surrounded my thousands of trees. The people are the same as is the fact that only two towns away, is my hometown. La Push, Washington is quite the same as Forks besides the fact that it's a poor Indian reservation that meets the ocean.

It's a rare day in Forks, Washington. Behind me, the sun is peaking over the mountain and casting a warm glow on the small town. The forest around me is waking up, birds chirping their songs and animals rustling. It doesn't scare me though, hardly anything scares me anymore. The air smells of pine and earth, a total different smell than I'm used to, total opposite of the smell of desert and waste.

I don't know what I expected when I came here, but when Bella walks out of her house my breath catches in my throat. I watch, thanking my gifted eyesight, as she stretches her arms over her head before descending the steps of the porch. She makes her way around the side of the house and towards her cliché bright red barn. I let out a lifeless laugh, the sound disappearing with the breeze. I snort and it echoes beyond the trees, making birds fly away in fright leaving their homes to wrestle along with the breeze. At that moment I realize just how alone I am in life. No matter what, my voice will always just be an echo.

In the pasture, Bella's horses acknowledge her presence and it reminds me much of one of those old movies where the queen walks out and all her followers kneel before her. The horses trot forward, each one crowding the fence. They call out greetings, one after another, and my first thought is she seems too small to moving around so easily. But she was always so comfortable with them, as they were with her. She had that effect on people. Her presence alone would draw unusual people in. It's not because she's weird or rude, or anything like that really, but more like because she's kind and sweet. Her kindness and beauty draw people in her. She's a comfortable person to be around.

I remember she took me horseback riding with her once. It really isn't my thing. I'd rather surf than ride horses, back then I know she'd rather go horseback riding than surf any day. Even now I'm pretty sure she'd rather ride a horse rather than a surfboard. I'm not even sure if she surfs anymore. That's just another thing that probably died, when our relationship did. She's comfortable with riding horses, as I am comfortable with sitting in the ocean waiting for a wave.

I watch as she retrieves one of her horses. Even though it's a dull memory in my head, the horse she brings out is the horse I rode so many years ago, but I can't seem to remember its name. She rubs its nose, and even from so far away I can tell she's grinning. After a moment, she turns and makes her way to the red barn.

She vanishes, and then emerges carrying two large pails, one in each hand. Her arms are stick straight glued to her side, the buckets weighing her down. I can make a bet that they are probably oats for the horses, but I'm not sure. I fight the sudden urge to make myself useful, and go down there and help her carry those. But I know for a fact that'd be a horrible idea. She hangs the pails on the fence, and a couple of horses trot over to them. I watch a she goes back into the barn, still clearly smiling. She comes back saddle and bridle now occupying her hands and again I wonder how someone so tiny can have so much strength.

I had saw Bella a year ago, and even though aging lines had become apparent on her face she still looked the same. To me, she'll always be twenty-one and I'll always be twenty-three. I'll always remember that day we met on the beach and I'll always remember the events that went down. It was a short time; the time we were together. Before I reenlisted, and before I received her letter. That letter changed my life. Believe it or not, if that had not been sent a lot of things would be different for me.

Now, at twenty-nine years old, I sometimes wonder about the decisions I have made in my life. At this current moment in, the army is all I know. I have nowhere to go but back to base. When on leave all I do is go stay in a hotel somewhere, or I just stay on base and chill. I don't have a home away from the army, because frankly the army is my home. I don't have any family, and I don't believe I ever will. When people ask me, I tell them the truth, I'm a grunt, I still live on base in Germany and all I know a little too much about killing people. I have maybe a thousand dollars saved up in the bank, and I haven't been on a date in years. The only thing I officially own is my Harley and surfboard, which both live on base with me. Most of the guys that were originally on my unit back then are now out of the army and I rarely talk to them anymore. I don't think I'll be getting out anytime soon, I'm getting shipped out back to Iraq in the next few months and from there on, we'll see if I can manage to stay alive.

Sometimes I contemplate what life would be like if I never met Isabella Marie Swan, and I dribble it back and forth in my head on most days that I have free time to think. But as lay out all that I've went through, I don't think I'd change one thing. Even though our story didn't' get a happily ever after, there was still a time in my life when I was happy and even though it's all in the past now, I'll never forget that time.

When I look back at the scene down below me, my mouth goes dry and I'm lost for words. Well, it's not like I have to say anything anyways. Bella's not alone now, a little boy, probably around the age six stands next to her leg. I can tell he is talking because her heads keeps bobbing up and down. The thing that startles me though is his looks. He has dark russet skin, much like mine, and dark hair, so unlike Bella's. I can't point out his facial features from this distance. He can't be Bella's son though, he's too old to be her son and he's too native. I watch as Bella leans down, smiling like usual and starts to tickle him. The words that come out of his mouth make my blood run cold and my breathing become shallow, he calls her mom.