He bumped my shoulder gently, the way a captain does to rally his team. “Look at you. You came straight here. The ice is your safe place. And you found him through the letters, your safe place. You keep writing, Hayes. You keep sending him the cookies, the reminders of home. That’s the game plan now.”
I nodded, feeling a small, essential piece of me click back into place. “Thanks, Cap.”
“Always here, Hayes,” Donovan replied, turning back toward the boards. “Now, get the hell off the ice before the Zamboni driver fines you. Go write a goddamn letter.”
I watched him go, the weight on my chest not gone, but manageable. The ice hadn’t fixed the pain, but Donovan had given me a focus. I had a game plan: keep being there for Splash. I turned and skated off the ice, heading for my locker and a fresh sheet of paper.
48
Ryan
I keep having flashbacks. I keep seeing Brody. I keep feeling the heavy, dead weight of him on my shoulders as I stumble back through the valley.
After they finally took his body from me, they stripped my kit and grounded me. Now I’m stuck here, staring aimlessly at the walls of the rear detachment barracks while my team goes back out into the field without me.
I’m just staring aimlessly at Brody’s empty bunk. They packed up all of his personal items—the cookies, the jokes, the man who saw me—and sent them back home to Anna and Cory. Fuck, why couldn’t I go with him?
The harsh desert sun shines directly over his empty mattress, and in this light, I can see the dust particles lazily settling on the bare cover. I’ve gone over and over the explosion so many times in my head. I replay every second, the deafening roar of the IED, the terrible stillness, the feel of his blood relentless against mypalms as I tried to stop it. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t know how to save him.
My hands are clean now, but I can still smell Brody’s blood, and I still feel the awful pressure of his last words, “Look after Anna and Cory. Promise me.”I close my eyes and lie back on my bunk. I need everyone to just leave me the fuck alone.
They wouldn’t send me home for the funeral. Red tape, operational logistics bullshit, mission first. So while Anna and Cory stood back home, I was trapped on base, staring helplessly at a water stain on the concrete ceiling.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just let the coldness take over entirely. To the medics and the therapist officers, I was completely flat-lined, a ghost walking through a secure compound. They thought I was broken, a liability, so they benched me. I let them believe it. It kept them from asking questions.
In the quiet, I can hear the gunshots and my screams over and over again. I hear the crunch of my boots on the gravel under his weight.
49
Letters
Splash,
I’m here. I’m right here.
I don’t care that it’s five words, Splash. I don’t care that the page is stained. I am holding this piece of paper right now, and I am holding onto you through it. You are not alone in the dark, do you hear me? I am right on the other side of this letter for you.
I am so, so sorry. I know how much Brody meant to you. I know he was your safety over there. I am crying with you right now in a hotel room half a world away, and I would give anything—literally anything—to take this pain off your shoulders.
You don’t have to explain anything to me. You don’t have to write a long reply. You don’t even have to use your words. Just know that every single day, I am going to keep writing to you.I am going to keep sending boxes. I am going to keep throwing lines into the dark until you are ready to climb out.
Brody watched your six over there, and now it’s my turn to watch it from here. I’m not going anywhere, my soldier. I’ve got you. I promise you, I’ve got you.
Yours,
Jackson
50
Letters
Jackson,
I’m holding onto the paper so tightly right now.
They put his things in a footlocker today to ship back to Anna. I had to sit there and watch them pack up his gear, his boots, the stupid inflatable pool float he bought at the commissary. Everything he was, just reduced to a plastic bin. I went out to the flatbeds afterward to look at the stars like I used to, but the sky just looked empty. I couldn’t see anything but the dark.
Every time I close my eyes, Jackson, I’m right back there. I see him on the floor. I see the blood, and I feel the heat, and I can hear myself screaming his name. I can’t sleep because the second the room goes dark, his face is right there staring back at me. I’ve been awake for three days straight just trying to outrun it.
