THE OLD MAN fumbled with the credit card machine, mumbling curses under his breath as the paper jammed for the second time. “This goddamned . . .” If it wasn’t for the vein bulging in his neck, pulsating with anger, the scene would have been comical. After the third attempt, he finally managed to get the machine to work. Sliding the receipt across the decades-old laminate counter, the mechanic said, “Sign here.” His nails were caked in grease and grime. After scribbling my name on the dotted line, I handed him the slip of paper, and he dropped my keys into my hand.
It was hot as fucking Hades and Sarge was panting like crazy, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. It killed me to have to drag him with me for the mile-long walk to the garage, but I didn’t trust myself. How fucking messed up was that?
Between the awkwardness of all the words we’d said—the strained silence of the ones we didn’t—and my phone buzzing nonstop, I barely slept last night. My nerves were shot and even the simplest task, like getting out of bed felt as if I was climbing Everest. I knew I’d eventually have to call Delilah, but my stomach twisted in knots even considering it.
What a fucking coward?
“Fucking enough,” I bit out as I untied Sarge’s leash from the railing. “Come,” I commanded, and he followed.
If only everything in my life was that simple.
Once we were in the car, I blasted the air conditioning. As the chilled air rushed over me, I calmed myself enough to at least think about how to approach the chaos of my life. A part of me wanted to run away from Jude, feeling as if there was no way I could ever say what I needed to say to him. But if I wasn’t here, and I wasn’t home, then where would I be?
Nowhere.
God, my head was a fucking mess, and the longer I sat there thinking about what to do, the more tangled everything became. My anxiety skyrocketed, landing like a cannon ball on my chest. “Deep breaths,” I coached myself. The blood rushed so hard in my ears I could hardly hear. Closing my eyes as tightly as possible, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Bright spots of light appeared behind my lids, a kaleidoscope of colors blinding my unopened eyes.
“Deep breaths,” I said once more, and I may as well have saidfuck youto my sanity.
Like a storm barreling up the coast and pummeling the shoreline, the memories crashed into me. They rushed all at once, pulling me under, and breathing became nearly impossible.
Those were the words I said to . . . to . . .”Fucking shit.” My mind raged, searching for his name.
Foroneof their names.
That was when the paralytic fear wrapped its fingers around my throat, squeezing tight, choking me in its grip.
Nameless.
They—all four of the comrades who died in my arms—all became nameless. And that was exactly what was going to happen to me if I didn’t take control.
Without saying the words to myself, I took the deep breaths I needed, my lungs burning in relief as they filled with air. Sarge sat dutifully at my side, his deep brown eyes locked on mine, making sure I washerein some capacity. “Head got away from me,” I explained as some of my sanity returned. Tilting his head to the side, he looked at me as if he was saying,It’s okay. I’m here.
Out of nowhere, my cell phone began burning a hole in my pocket. I knew it was part of the reason my anxiety was fucking me up. I needed to talk to Delilah. As much as I didn’t want to be with her anymore—not that I should have ever been with her in the first place—she deserved to know I was all right.
And Simon.
Fucking hell. My son. My heart and head were in a constant war thinking about him. I missed him so fucking much, but I knew if I didn’t do this, come here and figure out my past and who the hell I was, that I could never be the father he truly deserved.
As if he knew I needed his solace, Sarge rested his head on my lap, his body covering the center console. Sacrificing his comfort for my own, this dog was my rock. “Come on,” I urged. “There’s a trail just a few miles away. We’ll go there and walk. I’ll call her and tell her everything,” I explained, more for my encouragement than anything else.
Within minutes, I was on the trail where Jude and I had spent most of our senior year together. No matter how many years I’d spent away from here, I knew this location like I knew myself, even though I felt like I barely knew who I was lately. Somehow, being here centered me. It made me stronger in a way I thought was long gone.
I’d love to say it was foresight that made me grab a big bottle of water before leaving Jude’s house, but that would mean I had a plan. And that was most definitely the last thing I possessed. But for whatever reason, it was there, and I was thankful for it because even in the early morning hours, the July heat was oppressive. Sure I could call from the car, but the thought of being confined and telling my wife that I was gay was pretty much the least desirable option out there. With Sarge’s leash attached to his collar and the bottle of water in hand, we hit the trail. The thick air filled my lungs but rather than weighing me down, the heat lifted me up.
Within minutes, we made it about a half mile into the trail where I knew there was a bench. Memories of stopping here so many times with Jude flooded my head. But his strength from so many years ago—his desire to better himself and make it past this damn bench—helped me find my own strength. After giving Sarge some water, he found a shady spot by my feet. As he rested, I pulled my phone out and gathered the courage I needed to make this call.
Of course, the phone didn’t ring more than once. “Micah.” Delilah’s voice was thick with emotion, my name sticking in her throat. I could picture her face, twisted in pain, brows knotted together in worry. She was probably a disheveled mess, her hair piled high on top of her head, a knotted and tangled heap. Simon’s sweet voice filled the line from somewhere behind her. And even through her deep, heaving gasps, the sign that tears were certainly spilling from her eyes, I could hear him calling for me.
“Hi, Daddy,” Simon said cheerfully. Without a care in the world, he explained how Mommy was getting him ready for camp. “We’re doing karate today in gym. I’m so excited. Hiya.” His laughter was light and innocent as he told me they were making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, one for his lunch and one for hers. “When are you coming home?” he asked as if he only just realized I’d been gone for two days.
“Soon, bud. Listen, can you put Mommy back on the phone?” He hesitated, clearly not ready to let go of our conversation. “Hey, I promise I’ll call again later. I need to know how karate went, right?”
“Okay,” he conceded, but the conviction wasn’t there.
“Buddy . . . I . . .”
“Where’d you go?” he asked out of nowhere. His voice still so young and innocent was touched by the anger I’d clearly put there.
