“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Ya never mentioned ’em by name, but there was some stuff ya wrote where I know ya were writin’ about the boys…our team, all of us. I wanted ’em to know that ya never forgot, ya were just…doin’ things in your own way. Bassey’s mama said she cried when ya wrote about an ‘idiot soldier’ who would always have your back no matter what…especially ’cause he was the one who’d get ya into trouble.”
“And he was the first one you’d want to have your back when bullets were flying,” I said quietly, remembering it had been him I’d been thinking of when I’d written that piece. “And that for all his stupidity, for all his troublemaking, he was a good manwho didn’t deserve to die because Uncle Sam needs his blood sacrifice in the name of freedoms that have been absent for decades. I didn’t mean to make her cry.”
“She said it was exactly the sorta man he was…and that he would’ve loved hearin’ you cause so much trouble and use him to do it,” Cade said, his eyes a little wetter despite his smile. “And she’s right. He’d love knowin’ that Mr. Responsible Medic was raising hell and usin’ him to do it.”
“He would,” I said with a snort. “I didn’t use their names because I didn’t want their names being dragged through the mud I was always wading through, and I sure as hell didn’t want the families to get dragged into the mess. If I could have honored them better, I would have, but they deserve peace.”
“Ya mentioned ’em enough that the people who loved ’em could see it. And it’s obvious that ya did all of this, thinkin’ of them, thinkin’ of all of us,” he said and reached into his pocket, drawing out a folded piece of paper. “All of us.”
“What’s this?” I asked, unfolding it to read the headline of the article I had written once as a fun think piece. “Camaraderie or Trauma Bonding: Is There a Difference? Cade?—”
He took it from me and cleared his throat. “I don’t know how often it happens to others, but the battlefield is a strange place when it comes to love and affection. I loved my brothers in arms, my team, as if they were my family and their absence from this world is criminal and heartbreaking. Even then, there are degrees to it. I loved them all, but there was one I had a special affection for. Not more love, but a different kind that made me trust him completely in the heat of battle, but made it more awkward in those rare quiet moments we were alone. It was enough then to share a glance, to feel his hand on my shoulder, to know that although he would never return my feelings, he would always be my brother.”
I cleared my throat. “I would like to point out that there was a time when a lot of these articles were written while drunk.”
“Ya really were feelin’ some kind of way about me back then, weren’t ya?” he asked gently, reaching out to squeeze my knee. “Even then. And ya…ya were still feelin’ that way after ya left and were thinkin’ back, huh?”
“It wasn’t like I was…pining after you, day after day,” I said, having forgotten all about that little tidbit I’d thrown in for an article discussing the possibility that all that talk of ‘brothers in arms’ was just necessary trauma bonding, a way to keep teams cohesive and alive. I wasn’t expecting it to come back and bite me in the ass. Then again, there were a lot of things I’d written over the years that were potentially about to come back on me.
I should probably have Raymond get me copies of everything I wrote so I could be prepared for more surprises.
“And it’s not like I was payin’ enough attention to know what I was feelin’ back then, so I guess we’re even,” he said with a smirk.
I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”
“I never told ya this, mostly ’cause it felt kinda weird…and stupid. I mean, it was stupid ’cause I was so slow to pick up on what was goin’ on, so I was embarrassed to tell ya.”
“I’m sitting in federal prison under suspicion of espionage and treason because Imighthave missed the fact that I was talking to a foreign spy, so I don’t think there’s a whole lot of room left for being embarrassed.”
“Well,” he said, giving my knee another squeeze. “Even back then, I knew there wassomethin’weird about us. I mean, I could spend time with all the other guys, bunk up with ’em, and it was like any other day. But I remembered that night we got ya real drunk, and ya bunked with me, more like passed out, and ya took up the whole bunk, usin’ me like I was part of it and layin’ on me. Any of the other guys could do that and I’d just…shove’em over, maybe even give ’em a cuddle. But you? I just…I let ya do it. It was like I was afraid to cuddle ya, or to do some of the other things I would’ve done with the other guys. It wasn’t like…a big feelin’, so I didn’t think much about it but?—”
I stared at him. “So I guess I get to ask you the same question you just asked me, even then? Even then you were feeling…feelings for me?”
“Just didn’t realize that’s what I was feelin’, yeah,” he said with a sigh. “And the past few days, and on the plane, and?—”
I stared at him. “You…Cade, you’re terrified of flying.”
“I can do it!” he protested uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “Just need a couple of drinks is all. ‘Cept drinkin’ ain’t a good idea when ya ain’t been sleepin’ and ya been having mental issues.”
“Cade…” I said, knowing how hard it had been for him to get on a plane and come to me.
“Look,” he said roughly. “What I’m tryin’ to say is I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was goin’ on with me sooner. Maybe…maybe we could have had more time. Maybe we wouldn’t have had to go through what we did for years on our own. Maybe it could have been better for both of us. So…I’m sorry I wasn’t payin’ attention, that I didn’t dig enough to really look.”
I thought about that, and the idea blossomed. I could picture him finally approaching me one day while we were on some boring patrol, bringing up that night and asking me what it could mean. How I would have awkwardly avoided telling him it sounded like he had feelings for me, but he would have pushed because he was Cade and I would have caved. And if it had gone the way it had a month ago, he would have been intrigued and then…what? Sure, secret rendezvous between soldierssoundedgreat until you realized that most soldiers in the field were dirty and sweaty. But it could have worked, and although I wouldhave probably still been hurt and been absent for the loss of our team…I would have been there for him when he was recovering.
And then…and then…I wouldn’t have gone on the path I did if I were honest. If we had worked out, all my anger and concern would have been focused on trying to keep us in one piece instead of letting myself blast apart and go down a path that was destructive and yet healing at the same time. Maybe he would have gotten treatment for his problems a lot sooner, and I would have been there every step of the way. I would have probably ended up at the funerals of our boys, and I would have probably kept in contact with their families. Neither of us would have found our way to Arete, me by force, and him by desperation and necessity.
But—
“Maybe none of that would have mattered,” I said with a smile. “We might not have worked the way we’ve been working, or maybe it would have been awful…or better. The What If Game is a losing one, remember? Plus, you wouldn’t have met Clay and Isaac, and I know what they mean to you.”
“I guess,” he said.
“If anything, I should be the one apologizing, because while maybe you being densemighthave cost us more time, my own choices are definitely causing us to miss out,” I said with a wince. “Perhaps for the rest of my life.”
