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Taran shook her head. She’d never admitted this, and she was in a room full of people, but she would have to trust them with this truth. “It’s a pen name.”
“What’s your real name?” Clayton asked.
“Kuppton, Taran Kuppton. My fiancé…” She watched Nick carefully.
He was taking deep breaths through his nose, but his eyes stayed focused on her.
She raised her eyebrow in a silent question, and he gave a clipped nod without words. “Jeremy had called me T-cup since high school, and all the guys jumped in on it.”
“I don’t get it. What happened?” Clayton asked, holding the photo.
Taran explained. Syria. Normal supply run, roadside bomb, surprise attack.
“It’s why I could write the story correctly. I lived as one of them for twenty-four hours,” Taran said. “And it’s why I insist that I spend time getting to know people when I write a story. You can’t phone in the truth.”
Every man in the room was looking at her differently. They passed the photo around, and she was sure they were comparing the her in the snapshot to the story and to the her they had known for a few days now. It was a long few minutes, the men silently trying to understand what she and Nick had been through. But she knew that would never happen. They couldn’t understand.
“Listen, I’m gonna go,” Nick said.
He walked to the door, and his brothers let him go without a word. It was like they had seen this before. This pull-away. Taran understood it, but she felt responsible for it. So, she followed him.
“Nick,” she called as she pulled her front door shut behind her, the cool night air sending a chill down her spine.
“Don’t be sorry,” Nick said. “I’m going home to Morgan. I need to feel real right now. It’s the only way I know to pull back from the edge.”
Taran nodded. She couldn’t say she truly understood, because she never felt on an edge.
“Are you okay?” Nick asked. “And I don’t mean this minute.”
Nick’s intense eyes flicked over her face.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve thought about you a lot since I met my fiancée, Morgan.” Nick looked away from her. “I can’t imagine what it would be like watching her die, pulling her body from a car, carrying it to safety—living with that.” He swallowed. “You’re allowed to not be okay.”
“A lot of people have told me that, but I want to keep moving forward.” She watched him fighting a battle. She could see emotions flicking over his face. She could tell this was hard for him. Times like this, it was easier to just feel empty.
Finally, he met her eyes again. “I’ve always wanted to thank you. My boys—without you, we wouldn’t have made it. They always wanted to thank you. You should say yes, to Danny. Come, please. Because all six of us will be there.”
Taran stared at Nick. Danny had invited Taran to be his date for Nick’s wedding at least four times. Taran had repeatedly turned him down because she didn’t want any of Nick’s brothers in arms to see her. To remember her. And she knew they would. They all knew Jeremy. And then there was Corey.
“Things with Corey are weird. It’s not a good idea.” She didn’t love the words, because things with them were almost nothing. But at the same time, it wasn’t completely nothing.
Nick’s face morphed, like suddenly this conversation became easy. A smile played on his lips.
“I will deny this outright if you ever quote me, but Marc’s sister Glory is coming to my wedding. And Danny is weird about bringing a date around her. Marc would kill him, but I’m pretty sure there’s something going on there. So, I think he’s looking for something no pressure as much as you are.” Nick pulled at the back of his neck.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“We’re brothers in arms, Taran. You can’t forget that; you have to work through it, not run away from it. Jeremy would expect us to be there for you. You never gave us that chance.” Nick hugged her. Then he flashed a grin. “It’s fine if you don’t. We’ll come get you. Remember, you’re only a hundred pounds, T-cup.”
