Dana scooted close enough she could lean her shoulder against his arm, and Terry held her hand for all he was worth. “God, I wish this wasn’t all we could have,” she whispered.
“It is, and that’s okay.” He took a risk and pressed his lips to the top of her head, finding the knit cap covering her dark hair. “My unit’s headed out at first light. Until then…I’m yours. Whatever you need.”
The armored vehicle bounced across the desolate landscape. They’d been on the road for three hours, and exhaustion had Terry’s eyes burning. He’d stayed up with Dana until 0500, then caught a solid fifteen-minute nap before his unit packed the two Humvees and headed out.
They’d talked off and on, named every constellation and star either had recognized, and when he finally let her go, he felt the loss harder than he’d expected.
“Everything all right?” Mac asked when Terry rubbed his eyes and stifled his yawn. From behind the wheel, his lieutenant spared him only a brief gaze across the vehicle’s interior before returning his focus to the dusty road.
He and Mac had served together for more than two years, and they’d become close friends. Almost brothers.
“You ever meet someone and immediately feel like you’ve known them all your life?”
“No. Who the hell did you meet? And when? We’ve been stuck in camp for a month.”
“A nurse that came in with that medical team yesterday. We spent most of the night together.” At Mac’s raised brows, Terry quickly added, “Just talkin’ and lookin’ up at the stars. Nothin’ too out of line.”
“You going to stay in touch with her?” Mac asked.
Terry tugged on his gloves and stared out the window, scanning for anything out of place. Reports of IEDs had been infrequent of late, but that didn’t mean they could relax. “She didn’t want anythin’ beyond last night.”
“And you do?”
He sighed. He wanted it all with Dana Michaels. Before he could answer, the Humvee lurched, and the world around him turned to flames, smoke, and terror.
The coppery, burnt taste of blood filled the air. Metal creaked and whined, and an icy wind stung his cheeks. He couldn’t move. A massive weight pressed down on his legs, his arm was numb, and he heard screaming.
It took him a full minute to realize it was coming from his own throat.
“Terry! Sarge!” Mac’s hoarse shout was too faint. Too far away.
“Here. I’m here. Fuck. Call it in!” Terry couldn’t feel his radio—or anything else—with one arm trapped under his torso and the other probably broken or dislocated given the fiery, almost blinding, pain coming from the area of his shoulder.
The man Terry trusted most in this world crawled toward him. Mac’s fatigues were stained with blood, and his left arm hung limp, but he used his right to pull himself over the rocks and debris a few inches at a time. “The others…didn’t make…it out. Counted…five…RPGs.”
“You gotta get help,” Terry grunted. He was already half frozen except for his right leg, which was suspiciously warm. Like arterial bleed warm. He tried to raise his head, but darkness tinged the edges of his vision.
Mac grimaced as he rolled himself up to sitting, his skin going deathly pale. “Not yet. You’re…shit.”
Well, fuck. That wasn’t good. If Mac was that worried, Terry had to be worse off than he’d thought.
Pulling off his belt, Mac used his teeth and his one good arm to wrap the canvas strap around Terry’s right thigh. “This is going to hurt.”
“Do it.” He could take the pain. Or so he thought. Because when Mac yanked the belt tight, Terry’s vision faded away, and all he heard was the sound of his own scream.
His next conscious thought was that his throat hurt like a motherfucker. So did the rest of him. Was there a single inch of his body that wasn’t in agony?
Doubtful.
Pale, beige walls. A green door. A sweet, heart-shaped face swimming in front of him. “Welcome back, Sergeant Owens,” she said quietly. “Don’t try to talk yet, okay?”
Terry tried to nod, but the room started to spin, and a tiny, weak moan escaped his chapped lips. He knew that voice. That face. But fuck if he could remember how.
“Sorry about that,” the woman said with a half smile. “Maybe stick to blinking for a little bit? One for yes, two for no.”
He blinked once. Yeah. This was easier.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” She touched his cheek, her fingers gentle. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. The doctors had to put you in a medically induced coma for almost forty-eight hours because your brain was swelling, but you were lucky. That went down right quick. You have a concussion, three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a handful of shrapnel wounds, and…” Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she sat down in the chair next to the bed and rested her warm hand on his. “You’re going to lose part of your right leg. Surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
