A muscle worked in his jaw. “At the time Danny was shot, we were fighting side by side in a remote, abandoned Afghan village. The intel was lousy and the mission went sideways. There was gunfire all around, pinning us down. Danny spotted two enemy soldiers rushing up behind us, like they came right out of nowhere. I should have seen them, but I didn’t—not until Danny spun and fired.”
Bran fell silent, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder, as if he were watching a movie playing in his head.
“What happened then?” she gently prompted, afraid he wouldn’t say more.
Bran looked at her, something dark and terrifying in his eyes. When he spoke, the words tumbled out frantically, as if he couldn’t get them said fast enough.
“Danny took the bullet that was meant for me. He died instantly. I was hit three times before the bastard came at me with a knife. I took him out for Danny. I carved him into pieces and I was glad.”
Shock held her immobile.
For several moments, neither of them spoke. Then as if he was coming out of a trance, Bran shook his head. “I made it. Danny didn’t. That’s pretty much it.”
There was far more to it than that. But she could see what talking about it had cost him, could still recall his pain-ravaged face. She wanted to reach out and touch him, make it all go away.
She noticed a faint tremor in the hand that held his fork.
“You make it sound like it was your fault,” she said softly.
“It could have been. I’ll never know for sure.”
“The army didn’t think so.” Her dad had told her that much.
“No.”
She reached out and covered his trembling fingers, stilling the motion. “It was war, Bran. There’s no way to know what’s going to happen.”
The turbulence returned to his beautiful eyes. “We were like brothers, Jess. You don’t get much closer than two men fighting together in combat. I would have taken a bullet for him. As it turned out, Danny ended up taking one for me.”
She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. “That’s what brothers do, Bran. They look out for each other.”
He made no reply. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded gruff. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it. He’d be glad you’re alive.” She smiled at him softly. “So am I.”
Some of the anguish seemed to fade from the lines of his face. She had read about survivor’s guilt. Bran had loved Danny. He would always carry a thread of guilt that he had come home and his friend had not. It made her heart hurt to think of it. She was coming to care for Bran far more than she should, though she knew it was a mistake.
He went back to eating, shoveling in the food with more gusto than before. She hoped their talk had eased his mind a little. The last thing her brother would have wanted was for his friend to suffer.
They finished the meal and headed outside, their thoughts returning to the trouble they were facing. Their meeting at the depot with project manager Robert De La Garza lay ahead.
Jessie hoped the conversation would be more productive than the last time she was there.
