I do as he says.
“And out two, three, four…” I do exactly as he says as he repeats it until I start to feel the tightness in my body begin to slacken. The noise and the images fade, and I feel myself float back into my body.
“Good, good, keep that going,” he praises. When my breathing calms, I let my hands fall into my lap, and an overwhelming wave of emotions hits me all at once. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite down on my bottom lip to hold it in.
“Let it out, Noah. Let it out, buddy,” Brad coaxes.
So, I do.
I let the dam burst and weep like a newborn baby. Brad, all six foot four of him, drags me into his arms and clutches me against his broad chest.
“I know. I fucking know.” His voice cracks, and I feel the vibration in his chest, letting me know he’s crying too. There are some things in life that are bigger than the fear of any stigma, that are stronger than any training you’ve been through, and this is it. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
I cry until I feel numb. Until the tears dry up, and Brad never leaves my side. We sit on that dirty bathroom floor all night incompanionable silence, until the Afghanistan sun peeks through the tiny window at the top of the wall.
“Thank you,” I mumble. The only words I can find the strength to say, and I know that’s all I need to say. Losing Scotty proved the lengths we’d all go to save each other, to be there for each other. I’d sit beside any one of these men in silence all night if it was what they needed.
“Always,” he says with a weak smile.
Today, we are flying home to prepare for the funeral and say goodbye to our brother, and that thought makes me want to never leave this bathroom. But Scotty needs us. He deserves a send-off worthy of a war hero. So, I muster all my strength and drag my ass up off the floor with the help of Brad and get ready to take our Scotty home.
Chapter Seven
Tori
It wasn’t a bad dream, not the type you can wake up from anyway. No, I was now living a nightmare. My boyfriend was dead, and I’d never see him again. My baby would never meet their dad, we’d never get to ride horses through the Montana mountains, we’d never go cliff diving and traveling around Europe, and I’d never hear him tell me he loved me. Trent often joked he was here for a good time, not a long time, and boy, how right he was.
I think it’s been a few days, maybe it’s been one, maybe it’s been hours since my entire world was shattered by two words.
Trent died.
My parents flew in; Noah, Jack, and Brad flew home with Trent’s coffin, and I have yet to see Trent’s mom and family. I can’t face them. I can’t face anyone or anything. I keep hopingand praying that if I stay under this cream blanket, I’ll wake up and this will all be a lie.
The mattress dips beside me, and a firm hand presses against my back. “You need to try and eat something, Tor. It’s been days.”
I don’t answer, I just stare blankly at the wall. Eat? How can I think about eating when the love of my life is lying in a box, and tomorrow, we bury him? I clutch my aching stomach, knowing I need to eat, but I can’t bring myself to.
“You need to eat something. Think of the baby,” Harry says softly, his voice breaking on the last word, and then the sobs escape me once again. The baby, the baby that Trent will never meet, will never hold, or never know.
When my parents arrived and saw the state I was in, they called a doctor to give me something to help me sleep, so I had to admit to the pregnancy. I was met with shocked expressions that quickly turned into love and support. But I didn’t want to hear any of it or accept it. The only thing I want is Trent, and it’s the one thing I can’t have.
“Scotty wouldn’t want to see you like this,” Harry says so quietly, I almost miss it. I pull the comfort tighter, covering my face, wishing it would block him and the world out.
“Victoria, please. You need to try.” Harry only calls me Victoria when he’s mad or to tease me, and I don’t get the sense he’s in a playful mood.
Anger flares inside me, and I sit up to glare at him.
“Don’t tell me to try, Harry, it’s all I’m fucking doing. I am trying,” I yell.
“Then try harder. I lost Scotty; I can’t lose you too,” he barks back. “It’s been nearly a week, and you’ve barely moved or said a word, and nothing but water and those pills have passed your lips. I’m begging you, Tori, please.” He points to my bedsidecabinet, where an empty glass and an orange pot of sleeping pills sit beside a photo of me and Scotty from a trip we took to Vegas.
Guilt slaps me, and I wilt under my brother’s harsh words. He’s right, but those pills are the only thing stopping the pain. The only thing that gives my mind and body a rest from this all-consuming grief. I know I need to try, but trying feels like climbing a mountain without a compass, running in a race I haven’t trained for. How do I navigate this new path I’ve found myself on? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I know I need to try, but trying feels like the hardest battle of my life, and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be ready for it.
Chapter Eight
Tori
