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I can’t speak.
I can only shake my head. My body aches for his touch. My entire being aches for him, but he’s holding back, defenses up.
“I didn’t mean to see you.”
My throat is so painfully tight, I can only utter one word. “Why?”
His eyebrows quirk up, and he takes a half-step away from me. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Were you hurt? They said it was an accident…”
We were told an IED, an improvised explosive device, took my brother’s life and five other men in their unit. Many died horribly, limbs blown off, bodies severed by the weight of the truck collapsing on them. Not being next of kin, I couldn’t get any details about Grayson Cole’s injuries.
Danny was lucky, they said. He was bleeding pretty badly, but the medical report said he died instantly of a blow to the head.
“Nothing serious.” He seems to trail off.
“Good.” This is so hard.
I don’t know why I’m being so formal. I want to run forward and hold him. I want to wrap my arms around his waist and finally cry all my tears. I want him to comfort me like he did after my mom died when I was only twelve.
Something is different, though. He’s not the same boy with open arms, ready to rush in and dry my tears. I don’t understand, and it’s breaking my heart.
I have to exhale slowly to stop my voice from shaking. “Are you back to stay?”
“I don’t know yet.” His eyes return to the headstone, and the muscle in his jaw moves. His hand twitches, almost like he wants to reach out. “I didn’t mean to trespass.”
“No. You’re welcome here—”
“I’m not welcome here.” His voice is harsh, and in this light, I can’t see his face clearly. He passes a large hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
It’s the last thing he says before turning his back and walking away from me, quickly to the road. I don’t see a vehicle waiting. I can’t tell if he walked all the way here from… town? Was he at his uncle’s old place?
As much as I want to, I can’t chase after him. My legs are frozen. I stand as hot tears wash my cheeks, as he grows smaller, moving farther away from me. A sharp inhale jerks me. It turns into a wail as my knees give out.
The clouds rush to cover the moon, leaving me on all fours in front of the grave, my back bowing as the muscles in my stomach pull me into a ball. Resting my forehead on my hands, I sob, sadness ripping through my throat as the rain soaks my hair and my clothes.
Chapter 8
Gray
The force of the blast slams me against the window. My ears are full of cotton. I can’t hear the men screaming. I only feel the thuds of feet running, the tremor of the truck engine.
A high-pitched shrill is in my head, and my heart beats out of my chest. I gasp for breath, struggling to get my bearings through the chaos.
The truck lies on the driver’s side, where my head crashed against the window. I climb over the seat, doing my best to maneuver through the waves of concussion.
I climb out the passenger-side window and jump down. The moment I hit the ground, I fall to my hands and knees and vomit in the sand.
It’s mostly foam and bile. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, with my sleeve, using the front bumper to drag me to my feet.
Where is he? I’m desperate looking for him everywhere. My heart beats faster, the pain becomes more intense.
“Danny!” I scream at the top of my lungs, the noise shatters through my skull, but it doesn’t stop the shrill hiss. It’s driving me crazy.
I clutch the sides of my head with both fists, but I hear him. Clear as a bell, through the fog in my head, through the nonstop scree, I hear him.
“Gray…” He’s not shouting, he’s calling me. “Help me, Gray…”
