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We had no idea the hell the insurgents were about to rain down on us.
“I was in the third vehicle in our four-vehicle convoy when the one behind us exploded. Me and two guys from the lead vehicle dismounted to provide security and treat wounded until medevac showed up. When I got to the truck, I saw that Hurley was pretty torn up.”
The words poured out of me like they never had before. “He was gripping his right thigh, but the rest of his leg was a mangled mess. I pulled him out of the vehicle and then Maxwell was there screaming about how Hinton got hit. He was another guy in the first vehicle with Maxwell,” I clarified. “He was shot.”
The truth was it felt like it was raining lead. The shots were relentless, all coming from the hills on our right flank. I think the only reason I was able to get Hurley out and not get shot myself was because he was on the left side of the vehicle. If he’d been on the other side, I doubt either of us would’ve made it out of there alive.
“Maxwell and I were in a ditch with Hurley. The vehicle I was in had moved back to offer us some covering fire while Maxwell tied a tourniquet to try to stanch the bleeding. Hurley passed out and that’s when a rocket-propelled grenade hit the number two vehicle in the convoy. Two guys gone, just like that. I left Hurley with Maxwell to try to put some fire down range, toward the hillside, then ducked for cover as they shot another RPG our way. It landed a few yards away, but my fucking ears were ringing. No one tells you howloudeverything is. I mean, you see it in movies, but those don’t do it justice. It’s fucking loud. So loud I wouldn’t have heard a word Maxwell said to me if it wasn’t for our headsets we were still wearing. His voice pierced through all the noise, and I just remember him shouting at me.”
He was desperate. When the lead vehicle got hit with an RPG, we both looked at each other like this was it and he shouted. Some days I could still hear his words so clearly it was like he was screaming them in a library.
I can’t go out like this, man. I never told her. I never told her I loved her.
He moved back to his hometown in Montana after he got out, and I’ve often wondered if he ever told her—whoever she was—but I’ve been too chickenshit to return his calls.
“Our last functional vehicle was hit by another RPG, and that was the moment I really thought I was going to die there. And then we heard it—fucking salvation. Two Apaches and a Chinook came over the ridge. We’d called for our quick reaction force as soon as the first vehicle blew, but it felt like we were out there for hours before they finally showed up. The Apache gunships made quick work of the fighters on the hillside while the guys inside the Chinook gathered up our KIA. It wasn’t until we got back to the FOB that I learned it had only been thirty minutes. That was the longest thirty minutes of my life. In half an hour, they killed twelve of our guys and injured one. Maxwell and I were the only ones who just had minor scrapes for the most part.”
“And PTSD,” he interjected softly. It was the first time he’d spoken since I started telling the story, and it made me look up to find his face filled with an understanding only a fellow soldier could have.
“Yeah,” I choked out. “Yeah, and PTSD.”
I scrubbed my face, pretending that I didn’t notice the moisture there. I glanced out the window, desperately needing something to ground me back in the here and now.
Fuck, I wished Jenna was here. She thought she was a mess, but she was so fucking strong. I could use her strength right about then.
“You understand none of that was your fault, right?”
“If I hadn’t been playing with the kids…”
His voice was gentle, but firm. “You don’t know that, Connor, and it’s not fair for you to carry all that loss on your shoulders. You did the best you could in a bad situation. None of what happened when you guys left is your fault. It’s called survivor’s guilt.”
I clenched my jaw as emotion got the better of me. I brushed away another tear, not able to deny what it was this time because immediately following it was another one. My cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment.
“Let it out, Connor. You survived. That’s nothing to feel guilty over. Instead, you need to take this gift you were given and not waste it.”
His words opened the floodgates and I lost it, curling forward and sobbing into my hands. That was the worst day of my life. I left that village happy and laughing and then arrived back on base in a Chinook helicopter covered in Hurley’s blood, dirt, and surrounded by the bodies of the guys I’d been joking with only minutes before.
I blinked and my whole world changed into a nightmare. I hadn’t viewed surviving as a gift like I should have. It was a punishment—living with those memories and nightmares. But as my emotions settled and I pulled myself back together, I was able to see things with a different view.
I was able to feel gratitude instead of guilt for surviving.
And maybe—if she’d give me a chance—I’d have a woman next to me who made this second chance worth living for.
DON’T SPARE YOUR EX A SINGLE THOUGHT
JENNA
There was something soothing about being surrounded by animals. The ache in my heart from ending things with Connor was still ever-present, but it didn’t feel quite as sharp when I was scratching behind a dog’s ears or cuddling a cat in my arms.
There were perks to working for a veterinarian.
Connor had paved the way for my internship with Dr. Cunningham. He was in his early fifties and loved his job. He always had a vibrant smile on his face, and his eyes carried a shine that reminded me of how I pictured Santa Claus. I’d been nervous for our first meeting a week ago, but once I sat down in his office and he told me a cheesy dad joke about veterinarians, any nerves I had quickly disappeared.
Now all that was left was the bittersweet ache of missing Connor. I knew I’d done the right thing for me—I couldn’t be with someone who wouldn’t be vulnerable with me—but that didn’t make it easier to accept. Connor may not have been able to give me his words, but his actions said a lot. He’d shown me more care and kindness than any other guy I’d ever dated or been interested in.
Distance had allowed me to accept my feelings for him and acknowledge what they were. I loved him. I loved his heart, the way he took care of me and supported me. I didn’t need to know his whole life story to love those things about him.
But love wasn’t always enough.
