Page 47 of Make it Real
“I have scars.” I’d meant to treat it like a joke, but old pain laced through my voice against my will. Her face twisted, eyebrows pinching together. We both knew I meant the kind of scars you couldn’t see.
“I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless, I shouldn’t have—”
I put my hand over hers and held it tight. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t say anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “For…whatever happened.”
She didn’t ask for more, but the question hung silent in the air. She’d been so open with me from day one, didn’t seem right to shut her out, no matter how little I wanted to talk about this.
I slipped her hand in mine closer to my chest, like it’d give me courage.
“I lost a good friend. We were fighting together. He went down, and I didn’t. To this day, I couldn’t tell you why.”
We weren’t supposed to askWhy me?—a futile question that never solved anything. Didn’t stop me from asking myself a hundred times a day the first weeks after. Years, maybe. Even now, if I thought about it too long, the grief could suck me down to that dark place where I asked myself why I still lived but he’d died. Why I got more days and his had come to an end.
If I could have saved him.That was the real question that kept me up at night.
“He was engaged. Had all these plans for his future, the family they wanted, what he’d do when he got out of the Army. And then…it was all gone.”
I’d never been good at thinking ahead, but then and there, I truly saw the futility of it. Everybody who died had had plans, once. Plans didn’t promise anything.
“Jed.” Her soft whisper squeezed between my ribs to pierce my heart. I’d never thought it had a bullseye, but she’d found it. She twisted our hands to hold mine more firmly. “I’m so sorry.”
I ticked my head to the side as if I could shake all her apologies away. “Comes with the territory.”
Couldn’t very well participate in combat without witnessing the results. Wasn’t always death, but casualties were part of the deal. I’d seen my fair share of suffering on both sides. Nothing I’d ever want to burden her with. Even what I’d said already felt like too much.
What was I doing? Alone with Callie out here, and I’d opted to bring up my losses. Not the smoothest of moves.
“I have physical scars, too, but I don’t think about those much. But I’ll show them to you sometime if you ask real nice.” I waggled my eyebrows at her, trying to move past the somber mood I’d brought down on us like I’d pulled a storm cloud into a clear blue sky.
She fixed me with her stern little look, fighting laughter. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The laughter didn’t last, and her expression turned more sober. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
I took a long, slow breath, her soft condolences wrapping around my heart. “I am, too.”
“I’d hug you, but we’re kind of in an awkward position for it.”
Not awkward. Hugging Callie lying down like this? I could think of a hundred other descriptions for that, not one involving awkwardness. Perfection sat right at the top. I’d tuck her right up to me, nestle her in close, and hold on tight.
And then? Nothing but danger ahead.
“We should probably go back, anyway.” Sighing, I curled upright, then stood. “I’ve slacked off long enough. Pop’ll probably send out a search party after us in a few more minutes.”
Fat chance. More likely, he’d encourage us to stay out here as long as possible.
She sat up, too, and I reached a hand down to help her up. As soon as she got to her feet, she stepped closer to slip her arms around me. I returned her embrace, tucking my chin down to touch the top of her head, mentally fortifying the walls around those thoughts I never liked to stray into for very long. I wasn’t one for veering into the morose, but certain memories handed me an express ticket.
Somehow, this hug went a long way to easing that. Didn’t understand it, but I wouldn’t question it, either.
When she pulled back, I suspected she wasn’t quite ready to let the subject go. I appreciated her concern, but I’d delved into that sadness enough for one day. Any more, and I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep tonight. I’d been on a streak of good nights lately and wanted to keep it that way.
“Ready to drive us back?” I asked before she could voice the question forming in that sweet, curious brain of hers.
She hesitated, but seemed to understand what I needed. “Sure.”
“Maybe you’ll try popping a wheelie this time.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes at me. “I’m going to catch air over every bump in the road.”
