Page 108 of Broken By Silence
When we walk in, I spot him immediately, same buzzcut, same crooked grin, but there’s something in his eyes, too. The kind of knowing that only people who’ve seen what we have and lost who we have recognize.
“Archer,” Thomas chirps, clapping my shoulder as I pull him into a brief hug. “You came.”
“Nearly didn’t.”
He nods in understanding, then glances at Lottie. “And you must be the woman who got his ass to leave.”
Lottie laughs lightly, shaking his hand. “I think it was all him, but I’m not complaining.”
Thomas grins. “Well, I’m glad you came too. Nice to finallyput a face to the name we’ve all heard about for the last three years. Luke would’ve liked you.”
We join the others, the table crowded with pints and plates nobody really touches. Thomas. Declan. Reese. Men I’d lived with, fought beside, lost pieces of myself with. Glasses clink, stories about Luke and our time away start flowing.
They talk about the way Luked used to hum off-key during long drives, how he could never cook to save his life but somehow made the best coffee in camp.
Reese tells the one about Luke’s “lucky” jacket that he refused to take off during training. Declan brings up the time Luke got caught sneaking a dog onto base because “he looked lonely.” We all laugh, and for a few minutes it feels light.
Almost easy.
Then someone asks the question. The one I’ve been waiting for.
“You ever think about that night?”
Everything in me goes still.
Thomas’s eyes flick to me. He doesn’t stop it. Maybe he thinks I should talk. Maybe he’s right.
I swallow hard, fingers tightening around my glass of soda, because I refuse to drink while driving. “Every day.”
Lottie keeps her hand on my thigh, thumb tracing slow circles. It’s like she can sense every time the guilt creeps up.
The words come out quieter than I mean them to, but everyone hears. “I was the last one to see him. I dropped him off and told him I’d see him soon. Then I stopped by the beach on my way home.”
They know what happened next. They know about Lottie.
“I don’t regret it,” I say, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. “Not saving her. But sometimes I wish I could’ve done both. That I could’ve saved him, too.”
Silence. Just the hum of low music and the clink of glass. Lottie’s hand finds mine under the table, firm and steady. Thomas gives me a look that’s more understanding than words. “You were where you were meant to be, brother. You saved someone that night. Doesn’terase what we lost, but… maybe it balances something. You can’t carry the guilt of it forever, Archer.”
I want to argue, but the words won’t come because deep down, I know he’s right.
Lottie squeezes my hand. “Luke saved me, too,” she whispers. “You said he convinced you to take the drive home that night instead of staying. If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been there.” Her voice trembles, but her eyes stay fixed on mine. “Hedidsave me, Archer. Just… not in the way you expected.”
And somehow, that breaks me a little more.
When we leavethe bar later, the sun’s starting to dip, painting the water gold. We walk in silence for a while, shoes crunching against the gravel path that leads down to the beach.
She stops when the waves are a few feet away, wind lifting her hair. “You saved me that night.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, because I can’t stop the guilt creeping into my voice.
Her eyes stay fixed on the shoreline… remembering. “You still blame yourself?”
“Every day, Lottie.”
She turns to me then, eyes wet with tears. She steps closer, reaching up to touch my face. “You can’t keep doing that. You can’t hate yourself for saving me.”
“I don’t hate myself. I just hate that it had to be one or the other.”
