“He is,” Joshua whispered, eyes locked on the now-empty stairs. “But I don’t know… I mean, she won’t tell me anything, and I’m—” his voice faltered. “I’m not sure how much good it’s doing.”
“Has he talked to you?” Nate asked.
Joshua nodded. “Mostly, he says he’s not ready. Asks for time.” He lifted his head and met Nate’s eyes. “Damn nearbegsfor it.” He reached for the back of a dining chair, fingers curling around the wood as he bowed forward, shoulders slumping. “But hehastold me some of what he’s going through.” He looked up at Nate, tears streaming down his face. “Though saying it damn near killed him.”
Nate was beside him in a heartbeat, guiding him down. “Sit, Josh.” Then he turned toward the stairs, jaw tight. “Dammit, he can’t keep doing this—to you, to all of us!”
Joshua caught his arm, pulling him down beside him. “Nate, don’t. Please don’t be angry at him. You don’t understand.”
“I do,” Nate said, his voice softening as he met Joshua’s eyes. “And I’m not angry. I’m heartbroken.”
Joshua swallowed hard. “He’s suffering, Nate. More than he lets on. Our home… Sarah… Hannibal…” His voice faltered. “It’s eating him alive.”
He gripped Nate’s hands. “Every time he tries to cross the yard, the flashbacks and panic attacks nearly break him.” His voice cracked. “He shakes so hard he can barely stand. Barely move. Sometimes he hears the blast again. Hears Sarah scream. Sometimes heseesher—Sarah—lying there. Bleeding. Still. He can’t make it stop.”
Nate’s anger drained away. “Oh God, Josh,” he moaned.
“He thinks it’s all his fault,” Joshua said quietly. “Says he brought this down on us. That even giving everything—his strength, his body, his soul—still wasn’t enough.” His voice cracked. “And now he wears that failure like a second skin.”
Joshua blinked hard, his breath trembling. “For someone like Colin, that kind of loss isn’t just painful. It’s… catastrophic.”
“Not for nothing, Josh,” David said gently. “You’re alive.He’salive. That has to mean something. Why can’t he see that?”
“He does,” Joshua said softly. “But the PTSD and guilt have him blind. He’s lost in what was taken, not what survived. Not yet. There are days he can’t even make it into the house. I find him in your backyard, curled in on himself, like he’s trying to fight his way through a warzone. I have to talk him down.”
Nate reached for his hand. “It breaks my heart to see you two hurt like this.”
Joshua gave a small, sad smile, even as tears welled in his eyes. “He thinks his pain is the price he has to pay for keeping me alive… and for Sarah and Hannibal’s death. He thinks hedeservesto suffer.”
Nate’s voice was thick. “Then what can we do, Josh? Please—how do we help him?”
Joshua held his gaze. “Do what I’m doing,” he said. “Just… keep loving him.”
Behind him, he heard David’s breathing falter. “You’re the one light he still believes in, Josh. I don’t think he can reach for it yet. But, god love him, he’s still trying to find his way back to it.”
Joshua let the tears fall freely now, his voice grating with emotion. “I just want him to comehome.”
“I know,” David murmured. “And when he’s ready… he will.”
He sat in the dark,in the guest room at David’s house. The lamp was off. His phone glowed in his hand.
He opened the message thread with Joshua. Dozens of unread texts. Most short. All kind. Some just emojis.
He tapped to reply and typed:
I can’t sleep. I miss you. God, Josh, I hurt so much.
His thumb hovered over ‘Send’. He stared at the screen. Then erased it.
Instead, he just sent a heart emoji. No words.
He set the phone down like it weighed a hundred pounds and leaned his head against the windowpane, watching the shadows shift across the lawn.
Joshua stared at the message.
Just one heart emoji.
Wordless—but it said everything.
