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“Really?” I ask, genuinely shocked.
“Yes.”
“Why? Wasn’t it scary? I don’t know if I could be constantly on alert like that for months on end.”
“You get used to it.”
“Maybe that’s a problem,” I point out and he pauses, his teal eyes meeting mine.
“Maybe,” he admits softly.
“Is it a problem for you?” I prod and he shakes his head.
“No, my tours were shorter. I would only be there for two to four months, depending on the type of action that we saw and missions that we were doing.”
“Sounds hectic.”
“Sometimes it was, but not really. There’s a routine. Everyone knows their job. We’ve all been trained, and I liked it.”
“So, you miss the routine then,” I say and he seems shocked that I picked up on that.
“Yeah,” he admits as our food is dropped off. “I miss feeling useful and capable.”
He moves his cane to the side, and I grab my fork and dig in.
“We can find you a new routine. What do you like to do? Maybe we can find you a hobby here.”
“I like being outside. I used to love to hike but…” He trails off.
He doesn’t need to finish that thought. I’m sure that his whole life was changed when he got hurt. Patrick told me a bit more about the attack and the nerve damage last night while we were cooking. My heart had broken as I listened to all that Heath has been through.
“What else? Maybe we can learn to cook or paint or something together.”
“I’m not very artistic.”
“Me either, but it could be fun. You remind me of my grandpa,” I say with a smile and he glares at me.
“I’m not an old man,” he says and I snort.
“That’s not what I meant.”
He seems pacified by that, so I go on.
“He was a veteran too and he was always complaining about something but the truth was that he was a total sweetheart. He used to look after me all of the time.”
“Where were your parents?” Heath asks as he takes a big bite of his hash browns.
“My dad had left by then, so it was just me and my mom and she wasn’t… she wasn’t the most stable of adults,” I admit.
Heath studies me and I take a bite of my sandwich to try to force the awkwardness away.
“So, you hung out with your grandparents then?”
“Just my grandpa, and just sometimes. When my mom wasn’t doing well.”
He nods and I clear my throat, trying to figure out how to change the subject.
“What about you?”
