Page 42 of Mountain Defender

Then, as the months went by and we became friends, I just came up with more reasons to keep it secret.

She’ll look at me differently.

She’ll think I’m weak.

What if she pities me?

I couldn’t bear it.

I liked seeing the admiration in Rory’s eyes whenever the topic of the Army came up. I liked being the strong guy who could lug around fifty-pound bags of dog food and wrestle those enormous dog kennels into submission. I didn’t want her worrying that it was too much for me—it wasn’t, I carried rucksacks heavier than those bags of food—because she knew about my missing foot.

I think of all those things, my biggest fear was her pity.

So I put it off. I told myself it wasn’t important. That it would be different if we were dating and having sex was on the table. But with things as they were, Rory didn’t need to know.

For six months, I tried my best to convince myself it was the right decision.

For half a year, I repeated thejust friendsmantra more times than I could count.

But now? It doesn’t feel right.

And what I feel for Rory is so much more than friendship.

All last night, I lay awake, thinking about her. Worrying. Wondering. Wishing.

Before the helo crash, I never would have considered myself a coward. Far from it. I lived by our motto,Night Stalkers Don’t Quit.It didn’t matter the risks, I was ready to face them.

Then I woke up in the hospital in Germany, missing my right ankle and foot, and everything changed.

Medically retired from the Army, I had to return to a civilian life I didn’t want.

I had to learn how to walk again.

I wasn’t the same man I’d been for the first thirty-four years of my life.

No longer confident to the verge of cockiness, I became a weak shadow of my former self.

Four years later, I’m better. Stronger. Except for my missing foot, I’m in as good of shape as ever, thanks to rigorous daily workouts and sparring sessions with my teammates.

But deep down, though I’d never admit it to anyone else, I still feel like damaged goods. That’s why I always wear pants, so no one knows about my injury. And it’s why I haven’t dated since I left the Army.

It’s why I never asked Rory out, even though she’s the most interesting and beautiful woman I’ve ever met.

But.

Yesterday, while we walked through the woods, there was something in the way Rory looked at me; like maybe she wanted more, too.

Am I brave enough to bare myself to her?

Then again, can I really go on like this, not telling her the truth?

If nothing else, Rory deserves to know her protector’s weakness. She needs to know I’ll always have moments of instability, when my prosthetic doesn’t act the way I want it to. Times when I can’t run as quickly as the situation demands.

Like when the gunman was shooting at her. I couldn’t breathe as I ran towards Rory, hoping against hope my steps would remain steady. That I wouldn’t stumble and reach her too late.

I got to her in time. But it haunts me, just the same.

In the shower this morning, I finally decided. I’m going to tell her today.

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