Tameron’s eyes widened. “You do not.”
Heath, of course, promptly whipped out his phone and swiped to the address book, where I was at the top asSergeant Grumpy :(and held it up for everyone to see. He’d even added the frown emoji, the little shit.
Tameron laughed. “Oh my god, that is epic. Well, in that case, I will trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Heath put his phone back and looked at me. “He may be a grumpy motherfucker, but he’smygrumpy motherfucker.”
Obviously, I had to kiss him because that was the sweetest poetry I’d ever heard. And, of course, the guys all whooped and cheered and whistled, but I didn’t mind so much.
Dinner was far more relaxed than I had counted on, in no small part thanks to Heath, who fit right in as if he’d shared a dinner with us a thousand times before. He didn’t even blink at the rough language and threw in some colorful expressions of his own, so Nash quickly gave up on trying to get us to talk like civilized men, as he called it. Who the fuck cared anyway?
It was my turn for the dishes, but Heath offered to help me, which meant Tameron was excused. The others all retreated to their rooms, leaving us alone.
“What do you think?” I asked, leaning against the sink for balance as I scrubbed a plate.
“They’re amazing,” Heath said softly.
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. The affection between you guys is so obvious. They’re like siblings, with Nash as the sort-of older brother. You’re lucky.”
My heart swelled. “I do consider myself lucky, despite everything.”
Heath gently bumped my shoulder. “I’m glad you can see the good in your life.”
“It took me a while after what happened.”
I’d never talked about the accident with anyone but Nash, other than brief references. And in the two therapy sessions I’d had so far, I hadn’t gone into details either—and the Army shrink hadn’t pressed.
Maybe I hadn’t been ready yet because it had still been so fresh, so painful to even think about. Hell, I’d never even called it an accident. But for some reason, I was ready now.
I took a deep breath. “Can I tell you about it?”
“I’d be honored.”
“I’m an ammunition specialist, which basically means I know all about weapons, ammunition, and explosives. Nash was the First Sergeant in charge of our company, and I was the platoon leader. Bean was in my platoon. Tameron was in another, but still in our company. Our main task was weapons storage and safety, and we also assisted with making or defusing explosives when needed. I was training this guy named Watts, a cocky private who thought he knew it all from day one. He was new to my platoon, and I disliked him from day one, but there wasnothing we could do. It’s the Army, you know? They don’t give two fucks about your opinion.”
I shook my head at the memory of the fight I’d had with Nash about it, one of the few times when we’d truly collided. In the end, Nash had put his foot down and told me Watts would stay and I had to suck it up.
“Anyway, one day, I told Watts to collect all the explosives and weapons after a special exercise on post and check each one to make sure they had no ammunition left. There’s a procedure for this, a procedure I had taught him and he knew. He told me he’d checked them all…and I believed him because it didn’t even cross my mind anyone would be stupid enough to fuck around with that. Well, he’d been lazy and hadn’t checked them all. Turned out one of them still had a live round in it.”
Heath gasped. “Oh no…”
“When Tameron put the gun away, it went off, hitting an ammunition crate. It exploded. Tameron was shielded from the blast because he happened to be standing behind a truck that took the brunt of the force, but the explosion took out his eardrums, causing permanent hearing damage. I dove on top of Bean, who was standing next to me. The explosion took my lower leg clean off, but it also lifted us from the ground and slammed us back down, and I landed on top of Bean. He has a traumatic brain injury as a result.”
“Creek…” Heath’s voice broke. “That is awful. Just absolutely horrific. And Nash? Was he hurt too?”
I shook my head. “He was elsewhere on post, but he felt responsible. He wasn’t. Watts was, but Nash still took full responsibility.”
“What happened to this Watts guy?”
“Dishonorable discharge.” I couldn’t hide my contempt. “They should’ve prosecuted him for gross negligence. It could’ve cost lives, and we got lucky it didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
It was funny how those three little words meant so much. They might not be eloquent or deep, but he’d said them with such sincerity that I’d felt them deep inside me. I felt seen and heard, and somehow, that made the pain just a little less.
