"We were driving in a convoy, laughing and talking, then there was an explosion. An IED."
Damon swallowed hard, feeling the heat all over again. His heart raced as he recalled the screeching of ripping metal, followed by the high-pitched ringing in his ears. His hands shook as he felt again the bite of shrapnel in his flesh. The sting of sand in his lungs and the searing pain in his leg.
"It's okay, son." Mom's hand tightened on his. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
Grace squeezed his other hand, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
He pulled his hand from his mom's—he couldn't bear to let go of Grace's just yet—and motioned to the water sitting on the table beside his bed. Mom held up the water cup, and he drank deeply.
"It's strange. I don't remember what we were talking about before the explosion, but..." He pressed a hand to his chest. "But I know it was important." Then he pressed his palm to his temple. "The rest is...overwhelming sensations rather than images."
"It must have been such a nightmare." Grace's soft, sympathetic words made it sound like she knew something about nightmares.
He looked at her pretty face. Fine lines he couldn't recall ever seeing before surrounded her eyes. Had they developed while she cared for her mom in her final days? Or were they from worrying about him?
"I'm just so glad you survived and came home to us in one piece." Mom leaned over and kissed his forehead again.
"Not really."
Mom rolled her eyes. "Sorry, that was a poor choice of words, but you know what I mean."
Silence filled the room.
Neither of them looked at his leg. Not with pity. Not even with morbid curiosity.
Part of him wanted them to, especially Grace. He wanted her to see he was no longer the man he used to be. But even if she looked at his leg, she wouldn't see the injury that truly emasculated him.
"Who’s taking care of Lily?" he asked, searching for something—anything—that could bring some normalcy to their stilted conversation.
"Gabe and Paige," Grace said with a smile. "They love her as much as I do."
"She's very lovable." Mom laughed. "So cute and well behaved."
The room grew quiet again.
"I'm parched," Mom announced, springing to her feet. "I'm going to go find a couple bottles of water and give you two a few minutes of privacy."
Damon wanted to call her back. Tell her not to leave him alone with Grace. The other part told him there was no time like the present.
Like a Band Aid. Just rip it off and get it over with.
He stared at their clasped hands. "Listen, Grace, you should—" He swallowed hard before continuing. "You should go home." He pulled his hand from hers. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
"What?" Her head jerked back.
"I appreciate all you've done to help my mother these past few days, for flying here with her. She hates flying and traveling in unfamiliar cities."
"You think that's the only reason I came?" Anger laced her words.
Good.
He could handle anger better than tears. He looked at her now. Despite the anger, tears glistened in her eyes, and his heart twisted.
He forged on. His heart was breaking, but he needed to do this for her sake. "You didn't sign up for this, Grace." He motioned to his leg. "You shouldn't have to play nursemaid to half a man." She made a scoffing sound, but he pressed on. "You deserve someone who can give you the life you want. I can't be that man."
"How do you know what I want?"
"I saw your bucket list. More than anything, you want to be a wife and mother."
