While they ate dinner, he told her that he’d started helping coach the basketball team. “And I’ve found an online university where I can work on my degree, like you. At least until my final year.”
A few weeks ago, he’d shared with her his desire to become a high school guidance counselor. Grace loved seeing him excited about the future. When he talked about helping teenagers on and off the court it was as if a light bulb turned on inside him.
"When you get into the throes of homework, we can have study dates. Where we each study our own thing."
"I don't think so." His gaze grew intense as it roamed over her face. "I doubt I'd be able to concentrate if I was alone with you."
A flush crept up her neck. "We wouldn't be completely alone. Lily would be there."
Hearing her name, Lily yipped and danced around Grace's chair.
"That pint-sized fur ball won't be enough of a deterrent to keep me from making out with you instead of studying."
Grace giggled, loving this glimpse of the old Damon.
Then he sobered, and tension settled around the table. “I appreciate your courage in sharing your difficult things with me. I want to do the same with you.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I know it’s no secret, but I keep having nightmares and flashbacks."
She’d seen firsthand the PTSD and flashbacks, but he’d refused to talk about them with her.
"I'm so sorry." She covered his hand with her own. "That must be difficult. Are you reliving the explosion each time?"
"Sometimes. It's often different scenarios, but every time, someone I care about needs help, and I'm powerless to save them." He rotated his wrist and clasped her hand in his. He kept his gaze there as he stroked his thumb across her skin.
"Have you told Emily? What does she say about it?"
"It's PTSD." He shrugged one shoulder. "Caused by guilt."
"But the IED wasn't your fault, you know that. You're not responsible for what happened."
"I keep telling myself that.” He grimaced. “But...Iwas supposed to be driving that day, Grace."
"Then it would have been you..." She tightened her grip on his hand as her throat constricted. "You would have died that day."
"I know." He stared at his almost empty plate for a moment, but Grace doubted he actually saw it. "I often ask myself why I survived when King and Ford didn't."
"You may never truly know. You just have to believe it wasn't your time to go."
"Maybe." He took a drink of water. "Sometimes you show up in my dreams. Something bad always happens to you, and I can't stop it."
"What do you think that means?" she asked quietly.
He gave a small shrug. "I haven't told Emily that part, but it's probably caused by guilt too."
"For what?" It was obvious to her, but maybe he needed to voice it.
"For pushing you away and not being able to be the man you deser?—"
"Stop right there." She held up a hand. "This is never going to work between us if you keep?—"
"I know." He cut her off this time. "But even though you’re not bothered by my...injuries, I am. The psychological ones as much as the physical ones.” He shook his head. “I’m trying to work through them, but it could take a long time still.”
“That’s okay, Damon. There’s no rush.”
“I know, but I’m tired of being in limbo. I want to move on with my life.” He locked gazes with her. “Move on with you.”
Grace couldn’t help the broad grin that spread over her face.
“But Grace, you need to understand that I’m not a hundred percent healed yet. I’m only about seventy. But...” He grimaced. “I may never reach a hundred.”
