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He nodded as though something was solidifying in his head. “But you dropped your packet,” he said, using the correct term. He always listened when I spoke, so he knew. Then he took a breath, and asked, “Why’d you leave the Corps?”

His expression was hard and neutral, but I saw the twitch in his jaw that let me know he was fighting hard to keep it that way. I hated it. Wren was always warm and open, especially with me, and to see him attempting stern was disconcerting to say the least.

But cataloguing his expression had given me a few seconds to regroup and get my roiling emotions under control. Just talking about it made the shame and pain and anger well up, and I would do anything not to unleash that on him.

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally said, and even I could hear how stiff the words sounded.

Wren’s face softened at that, just enough to show me the man underneath. The one that, up until recently, I’d known better than anyone else on the planet.

“I think it does. You were set to be a lifer. To stay in the Corps until you had no choice but to retire. And then suddenly….” Wren lifted his gaze from mine, staring off into the distance somewhere over my head. When he spoke, his voice was soft and slow, like he was measuring his words. “I know what the yellow ribbon means.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

“Yes, it’s to support our troops. Has been for decades.” He took a long, measured breath. And then, in increments, he dropped his gaze so he was staring dead into my eyes. “But it’s also for suicide prevention and awareness.”

For several long moments all I could do was breathe. I had to close my eyes, count the seconds as I inhaled and then exhaled, so I wouldn’t spiral out. I’d worked hard with my therapist to be able to do this. To feel the emotion and let it move through me so that I didn’t get stuck. It took at least a couple of minutes before I could offer a single nod.

“You?” Wren’s voice was still gentle, but this time I heard the worry underneath.

I shook my head. His exhale was explosive.

“Who?”

I shook my head again, squeezing my eyes tighter, willing my lungs to work.

“Bode, look at me.” Wren’s voice cut through the noise in my head, and then I felt his hand on my cheek. My eyes snapped open, and his held nothing but kindness and understanding. “There you are. What happened?”

I wasn’t sure I could say it out loud. When I first got home, I’d broken down to Dad and he’d held me as I related the tale. I was sure he’d told my mother, though she’d been smart and never brought it up. I knew that in telling Dad, Mom would know as well, because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. My therapist obviously knew, too. But other than that, no one knew the weight I carried. Would carry for the rest of my life.

But this was Wren, my person. My best friend. I would do anything to protect him, to keep from putting my burdens on him. But the way he was looking at me, the worry and understanding in those too-knowing eyes, made something in me crack.

“His name was Private First Class Brian Alvarez and one week shy of graduating boot camp, he took his own life because the pressure and harassment were too much.” I sounded robotic, but that was the best I could do. “He wasn’t one of mine, but our platoons trained together. In his note, he claimed I was the only drill instructor who treated him with respect. But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

I broke. But Wren was there to catch me.

Chapter 6

Wren

Ididn’t appreciate being cornered like he had, but maybe it was time. Something needed to change, and maybe, just maybe, on some level I’d paid off his loan for this exact reason.

When he told me the true reason for Yellow Ribbon, I reached for him, hugged him close, and let him get it out.

The platform wasn’t in the greatest condition, but it was dry enough, so I tugged us down to sit on the edge that seemed sturdiest. Then I pulled Bodhi against me, letting him bury his head in my neck as he fell apart a little.

With one arm around him, and the other hand grasping his and squeezing to hopefully keep him somewhat grounded, I sat there and felt an odd mix of relief, gratitude, and… it wasn’t quite resentment, but it was something close to it.

He could’ve come to me with it. The fact that he hadn’t hurt surprisingly a lot.

Once he started to breathe easier, I tightened my hold around him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I murmured. I would keep telling him as many times as I had to if he needed to hear it.

Bodhi took in a breath, then another, deeper one that shuddered less. “No, I know.”

His tone was firm enough that I could tell he mostly believed what he was saying. I held back a sigh.

He moved a little, not completely out of my embrace but he created a little bit of room between us and put his head on my shoulder.