Colin covered Joshua’s hand with his own. “We’ll take it slow. The minute it’s too much, you tell me, and we’ll leave.”
Joshua nodded and drew in a trembling breath. “And you do the same.”
“This can just be a first, quick trip,” Esther assured them. “We can arrange for you to go back in a few days if all goes well.”
The rideto the house was silent—Norm at the wheel, Esther up front, Colin’s hand on Joshua’s knee as he watched the city roll past through tired, burning eyes, dread tightening in his chest, fighting off occasional bouts of dizziness.
Within minutes, they stood just outside the yellow tape line, staring at the ruin that had once been their front yard. An unmarked SUV idled half a block back. Their security team had followed and now waited nearby—quiet, watchful shapes on the periphery, giving them space while ensuring no one came close.
Two cruisers idled near the curb. Local bomb squad and ATF responders stood by a folding table set up in the driveway, flipping through notes and examining debris. A tech from Dominion Energy worked near the fragmented porch, inspecting the broken gas line that Daniel had flagged the night before.
Shannon Nash moved to Colin’s side, clipboard in hand. “I’m right here when you’re ready to go in, buddy. I have to log everything. But you know that’s just procedure.” He laid a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “I’m here for you and Josh. Take it as slow as you need–at your own pace. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
They stepped over the tape and inched closer. One of the bomb techs crouched low, gloved hands sifting carefully through the debris before picking up a scorched fragment of metal. He held it up to the light, grimacing at the crude but deliberate construction.
“Homemade, for sure,” he muttered to no one in particular. “But this guy wasn’t an amateur.” He stood and turned to his partner, holding out the fragment.
The other tech nodded, flipping through a battered field notebook. “Built it clean. Knew exactly what he was doing. A few inches closer and there wouldn’t be anything left here but dust.” The words hung in the air, heavy and grim, a quiet acknowledgment of how close the night had come to ending far worse than it had. His partner nudged his arm, nodding toward Colin and Joshua. They both fell silent and turned away.
The tech's words echoed in Joshua's mind—a few inches closer—and he felt the blood drain from his face. His grip on Colin's hand tightened reflexively, then eased, fearful of hurting his burned hands.
Colin's voice came out rough, barely audible. "If she hadn't?—"
"Don't." Joshua's throat closed around the word. But they both knew. If Sarah hadn't distracted the bomber, screaming, running, buying them those desperate seconds—he would have had time. Time to place it properly. Time to position it exactly where it needed to be.
Dust! Nothing but dust.
Joshua's eyes burned, and he pressed his forehead against Colin's shoulder, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. "Sheknew," he whispered. “God, Colin, shehadto have known."
Colin's bandaged fingers trembled in his grip. "She bought us those seconds, Josh. She…” His voice broke.
Those seconds were why they were standing here, hands clasped despite the pain. Why they could still touch, still breathe, stillbe.
The weight of it settled between them—gratitude and guilt twisting together until Joshua couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. He didn’t speak—couldn’t. The air was too thick with the smell of smoke and the crushing pain of his grief. But in that moment, standing in the ruins of their life, he understood—trulyunderstood—how close they’d come to losingeverything.
Colin’s hand tightened. He stood, silent but solid, anchoring them both to the scorched ground beneath their feet. His other hand, the one hanging by his side, had curled into a tight fist, not from anger—just the only way he could keep it from shaking. He didn’t even feel the pain. His breathing slowed to something slow and deliberate.Don’t lose it. Hang on, Colin.
His eyes carefully avoided that one horrid corner: the corner where the blast hit hardest, the corner still boxed off with yellow tape marking Sarah Mitchell’s sacrifice.
Even from here, the smell of smoke was overpowering. Not just in the air, but in the very bones of every brick and beam, as if sorrow and loss had somehow soaked into these walls where they had known such joy.
Joshua laid his other hand on Colin’s arm and gripped it tight. When Colin turned to him, shock and horror were still etched into every line of the face he adored. But when Joshua’s eyes met his, there was something new: grit, a glint of defiance, maybe even a flash of stubborn hope. It caught Colin off guard, and for a moment, the weight eased—just a little.
Colin hadn’t wanted to come, hadn’t wanted to see the ruin or breathe in the guilt that clung to every blackened corner. But Joshua was here, and Shannon Nash was waiting.
For now, it was only what they could carry. But it was a start.
He turned to Shannon, linking his arm through Joshua’s, needing the contact to steady him. “OK, Shannon. Let’s do this.”
Inside,the air reeked of smoke and wet ash. The walls were streaked with soot, and water pooled in dark patches. The living room felt both familiar and ruined—furniture warped, photos lying on the floor. A police officer Colin recognized offered a brief, wordless squeeze to his shoulder.
Walking with care, they ascended the damaged stairs, trying not to look too closely at the surrounding ruin. Shannon hovered just behind, clutching his clipboard.
In their bedroom, while Joshua tucked his medications into a small plastic bag, Colin stood at the closet, staring at the suithe’d worn on their wedding day. Smoke smudged the plastic, but the crisp black suit beneath looked untouched. Relief flickered through the grief that constricted his chest. His throat ached as tears scalded his eyes. He drew a quaking breath and felt a gentle hand come to rest at the center of his back.
“The plastic saved it, my love,” Joshua murmured. “It’ll be OK.” He held up a frame, wiped soot from the glass with a ball of tissue, then turned it so Colin could see.
Inside was Colin’s Medal of Valor, gleaming against the velvet background—untouched, preserved, the inscription still sharp beneath the glass. For a moment, Colin just stared, overwhelmed. The medal looked out of place in this ruined world, a stubborn fragment of hope. He had walked through fire for that medal once. He never thought it would have to survive another.
