Ford turned in the front seat to look over his shoulder. "You seriously thinking about getting married when you get home from deployment, Knight?"
"Yessiree. Notthinkingabout it. I'mdoingit."
Grace might still need a little convincing, but he was up for the task.
"You always said the military and marriage didn't mix." McDonald eyed him. "Does that mean you're thinking about getting out?"
Damon took a long moment to study the barren landscape that the Humvee bumped and bounced over before answering. "Don't you ever wish there was more than this?"
"There is," King said. "It's only two and a half more months, man."
"Yes, but how long until the next deployment? And the next?"
"More? Like what?" Ford asked.
Like Damon, he'd been in the Army since shortly after turning eighteen. It was all they'd ever known. Most days, Damon didn't mind it—he enjoyed it even—but he'd grown envious of his brothers and cousins who went home to their wives and children each night.
"I don't know yet, but this is my last tour."
He’d thought a lot about what he wanted to do when he got out of the Army, and even though he hadn’t nailed it down, he knew he wanted to help people, like Grace. He liked the idea of working with teenagers, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a teacher.
"You're crazy, man. A house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a woman to come home to every day sounds nice, but it would get boring and claustrophobic after a few months."
"That's because you haven't found the right woman yet, and you're thinking of a house in suburbia. You need to get out into the country where the air is fresh, and your nearest neighbor is half a mile away. It's impossible to feel claustrophobic in the country.
"Like I said, bor?—"
KABOOM!
A deafening explosion split the air, ripping through the center of the Humvee. The massive vehicle was thrown into the air before slamming onto its side with a jarring jolt.
White light blinded Damon. His ears rang, blocking out everything except the sound of the blood pulsing in his head.
Scorching heat enveloped him. Hotter than anything Damon had ever experienced. He struggled to breathe against the oppressive heat, drawing smoke-filled sandy air into his lungs.
Screaming finally pierced his ringing ears. High-pitched, agonized screams.
Men shouted, calling his name and the other occupants of his Humvee. Then they cursed.
More shouting. And more cursing.
Pain permeated the lower half of his body, sharp and excruciating.
King's name was shouted again and again in frantic tones, followed by Ford's.
Damon struggled to make sense of the chaos surrounding him.
IED.
No! It wasn't supposed to end like this.
He was supposed to get his happily ever after with Grace.
Grace.
He struggled to hold onto the image of her beautiful face as darkness claimed him.
"Okay,this is what I've come up with for the twelve meals." Charity laid a handwritten piece of paper on the table in front of Grace who nibbled on one of Charity's pecan pie bars.
