Page 99 of Salute, To Bravery
Jane sits next to me with a gentle nudge, her presence immediate, like the calm in the storm. Her eyes are rimmed red, and I know something’s wrong before she even says a word.
She takes a shaky breath and looks at me, her voice trembling. “Hey, baby. How was your day?”
Without hesitation, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
She swallows hard before speaking, taking a long breath as if to steady herself. “Rei and I had a heart-to-heart… and it turned into a bit of an emotional breakdown. Why didn’t you tell me what happened to her?” Her voice catches, and I can see the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “I was sitting there, pushing her to tell me what happened because you wouldn’t tell me shit, and then I found out Brandon died protecting her. He told her he loved her… and then he fucking died. You almost died. I couldn’t help but think today that I am glad it was him over you. God, I am such an asshole. I almost lost you.”
The words hit me like a punch, and my chest tightens, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. She’s crying now, tears falling freely as she tries to steady herself. I reach out instinctively, brushing them away with the gentlest touch I can manage. It feels like I’m holding the pieces of her heart in my hands, and I can’t bear to watch her break in front of me.
Her whispered, “I almost lost you,” keeps replaying in my mind, stirring up a storm of emotions. But in the silence, I’mpulled back to another memory—one that’s still vivid, still sharp, even though it feels like it happened lifetimes ago.
The battlefield flashes before me, a scene that never truly leaves me.
His face contorted in agony, his bloodied hand reaching for me as he screamed my name, pleading for me to hold on. It was chaos, loud and jarring. The crackle of gunfire. The distant whine of helicopters. And Rei’s voice—urgent, calling out for a new extraction point.
I could barely stay conscious, pain ripping through me like a storm, but he refused to let me go.
With every ounce of strength he had left, he lifted me up, his voice barely audible over the din. “She can’t lose us both… You have to make it out alive. Take care of my girl… she’ll need you.” His words were choked out, but there was clarity in them. A promise. “I’ve got you, brother.”
But he didn’t stop. He ran back, without hesitation, toward the others who were still out there, caught in the line of fire. He dove back into the fray without a second thought, determined to cover everyone else. He kept moving, pulling Rei to safety, shielding her with his body, even as the rounds tore into him. He got her into the helicopter, but it was already too late. He had taken too many hits.
I could see it, even as he neared the chopper, his dark eyes catching mine one last time, a faint smile on his face that didn’t match the agony. It was the kind of smile that said everything without words. The kind of smile that said goodbye.
With a slight nod, he surrendered to death, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless husk and a shattered promise I would carry with me forever. Brandon’s death wasn’t just the loss of a brother, but the loss of a future we never got to live. A life that could’ve been.
I snap out of the memory, blinking against the burn of tears threatening to spill. But I won’t let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of Jane. Not when she needs me to be strong for both of us. I push the flashback down deep inside, forcing the flood of emotions back into the locked box where they stay—until they can’t be contained any longer.
I exhale slowly, the ache in my chest gnawing at me as I look at Jane, her face full of fear and concern. Her hand still rests gently against my face, but she doesn’t know what I’m holding inside, what I’ve been carrying all this time.
I let the silence stretch between us before I finally speak, my voice quiet but steady, despite the storm that still rages inside me. “Brandon didn’t hesitate. He knew what he was doing. He knew he wasn’t going to make it out.” I say it, but it’s like admitting it out loud makes it real in a way that it never was before.
Jane’s breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, she doesn’t speak. I can see the weight of it all in her eyes, the realization of the sacrifice, of the depth of loss.
Her fingers brush the side of my face again, her touch soft, as if afraid I’ll disappear under her fingertips. “I just want you here with me. I can’t lose you, Craig. Take however long you need, but know I am here to help you carry the burden.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and the dam that’s been holding back the flood of emotions bursts wide open.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel it. All the grief, all the guilt, all the pain of everything we’ve been through. Of almost losing each other.
And when the tears finally come, they’re not just for the life I almost lost on that battlefield. They’re for all of us—Rei, Brandon, and the pieces of us that have been broken and lost along the way.
“I’m here, Jane,” I whisper back, my voice hoarse as I pull her close. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. It hurts, I have no idea who I even am now. The appointment today was for a prosthetics fitting, and I couldn’t bear to have you there and be disappointed by all the things we will never be able to do again. How could you even love me after everything?”
Her arms tighten around me, and I feel her soft breath on my neck as she clings to me. There’s a moment of silence between us, the kind that feels like a fragile bridge stretching between the past and what comes next. It’s the weight of everything we’ve lost and everything we’re trying to rebuild, all tangled up in each breath we take together.
“You are the only man I have ever loved, the only man who saw me when no one else ever has. You are my everything.”
But in that quiet, I know one thing for certain—I’m not alone. Not anymore.
Chapter Ten.
Jane
Ipull back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of what he’s really feeling behind the walls he’s built. His face is still etched with pain, the kind that seems to seep into his bones, making him look both worn and impossibly strong at the same time. I swallow hard, my heart aching for him, but I need to ask. I need to know where his head is, even if I’m terrified of the answer.
“Do you think you’re going to be getting out?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, trepidation creeping into my words. I’ve been waiting for him to open up, but part of me is scared of what it might mean if he doesn’t.
He sighs deeply, a sound filled with all the uncertainty I’ve been sensing in him lately. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he admits, and I feel my heart clench in sympathy. “But it isn’t a decision I would make without you. I just don’t know who or what I am now. There are times I feel like everything is just too much. How far can I realistically push before I don’t come back? Before I lose what little is left of me?”
I can feel the weight of his words in my chest, a quiet desperation, and I wish I could take some of that pain from him. I know he’s been battling these feelings of being lost for so long, but hearing him say it out loud, watching his eyes darken with that fear, makes it all the more real.
