Serena squeezes my arm, and I lock eyes with her, taking deep breaths to slow down my heart rate.
Swallowing hard, I repeat, “Intel was actually compromised.My best soldier was supposed to sweep for IEDs.He didn’t because we were on a tight schedule.The fucking thing exploded, and the whole building collapsed during extraction.”I pause, my hands clenching into fists.“Then I saw Abeera, the informant’s wife.She was such a generous woman.Her cookies were the best, and she always had them at the ready for my team and me.Now, she was reaching for me,” I whisper.“Her small hand, covered in dust, appeared from under the rubble.I tried to pull her free, but the weight was too much, and the structure was unstable.My team was screaming at me to fall back because secondary explosions were imminent.”
Serena shifts slightly but doesn’t interrupt.
“I was supposed to grab her.Get Abeera and run.That’s the whole goddamn purpose of an extraction team.We go in, we get the hostages, we get them out alive.”I close my eyes, but the images are seared on the inside of my eyelids, etched into my soul.“Instead, I let go of Abeera’s hand.”The confession tears through me like that fucking bullet in Russia.Except that my actions in Syria created a wound that never heals.“I fell back.And three seconds later, the secondary explosion buried what was left of her.”
The weight of those three seconds has been crushing me for years.
“In Russia, bullets found a little girl before my hands could.”My voice is barely a whisper now.“And then there was a boy, maybe ten.Same outcome.Different trajectory.Same ending—they didn’t make it.”
Serena’s hand finds mine in the darkness.She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer hollow platitudes or false comfort.She holds on.
“There was the third kid,” I continue, because now that the dam is cracking, I need to say all of it.“He was maybe ten.When the shooting started, he ran—made it past the initial contact, past the operatives.For a moment, I thought—” I break off, unable to finish.
“But he made it,” Serena says quietly, not asking.
I nod.“He made it to the tree line.The operation was a complete failure.Two kids dead, one missing, and me frozen like a coward because I was too broken to do the one thing I was trained to do.”
The shame of it burns fresh even now.
“Nikolai pulled me out of the operation after that.Said I needed to go home.Said my freezing up was getting people killed.”I turn my head to look at Serena.In the moonlight, her amber eyes are dark and fathomless.“He was right.I’ve been carrying this guilt ever since Syria.Been afraid that if I got close to anyone, if I let myself care about them, I’d find another way to fail.Another way to watch someone that I love get destroyed because of my weakness.”
Serena is quiet for a long moment.Then she squeezes my fingers.“That’s not true.”I raise a skeptical eyebrow, so she continues.“You didn’t freeze because you’re weak, Shelby.You froze because you cared.Because the thought of that sweet woman dying was so unbearable that your brain and your body couldn’t process it fast enough to respond.That’s not being weak, it’s being human.”
“Being human doesn’t help in combat situations,” I say flatly.
“No,” she agrees.“But it’s essential in life.Because, in a real relationship, one loves without destroying the other.”
I turn to face her fully, sitting cross-legged on the bed.Even in the dim light, intelligence shines in her eyes.But I’m aware there’s steel beneath her softness.
“I’ve been having these nightmares since I came back from Syria,” I admit.“Sometimes I can stay awake through sheer force of will.Other times...”I gesture vaguely at the mattress, at the fact that she was trapped beneath me moments ago.
“Other times you relive it,” she finishes.She pulls her legs up, mirroring my position.We’re two people who’ve been broken by the world, trying to figure out how to be whole together.
“I should sleep in the guest room,” I say, the fear that’s been driving all my decisions finally surfacing.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
Her indignation warms my heart.I kiss the tip of her nose, fighting a smile because this conversation is deadly serious.“Because, in one of these episodes, I could hurt you.”
“You could, but I know you won’t,” she whispers.
I appreciate that she doesn’t pretend this isn’t a real possibility.
Yet I shake my head at her naïveté.“You can’t know that.”
“The hell I can’t, Shelby Boyle!Even in the nightmare, even in the worst moment, your body protected me instead of harming me.You collapsed on top of me to shelter me, not trap me.”
I want to argue, but I remember her hands on my shoulders, her eyes clear and unafraid.Not the panic of someone being hurt.The steadiness of someone who trusted me even when I was at my most fractured.
“I can’t promise the nightmares will stop,” I say slowly.
“I know,” Serena says.“I’m not asking you to.I’m asking you to stop running from them.Stop running from me.”
She reaches up and touches my face, her palm cool against my cheek.“You’re not cursed, Shelby.You’re not broken beyond repair.You’re just a man who saw something horrific, and that broke your heart.But broken hearts can be mended.”
“Is that right?”I chuckle.
