Page 73 of Hard to Lose

Why does it seem as though the sound of his voice can make me feel like everything is better?

How do I do this? How do I perpetrate a lie so that I can be with him?

Because the deal-breaker is if he’s in a relationship with someone. A long-term relationship. And that isn’t what we have.

I don’t have a choice really. He knows I’ll be leaving for home at some point, so I’m going to enjoy the time I have with him, and then, fingers crossed, be able to walk away with some pride still intact.

I pull my laptop into bed with me and open up Kelly’s email. Gunner is staring back at me before I begin scrolling to find a lone article about him. I skim the subtitles, but note that it covers his heroics, the bar he opened in memory of his fallen soldiers, and the incredible work he’s doing at The Center. Why couldn’t I find this online when I first looked him up?

But I can’t bring myself to read it. It feels dirty. Like I’m cheating when I’m already cheating enough.

I’d rather learn this information from him. I’d rather ask him.

I’d rather get to know him with his warm smile, caring eyes, and genuine sense of humor.

I want to get to know him that way.

I close my laptop, push it away, and snuggle beneath the covers, decided.

I’m going to enjoy the time we have, soaking him in every chance I get.

Because I know that when I walk away, I’ll probably never meet another man like him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Gunner

“To the lost but not forgotten. To the brave and the missed. To Dickman, because he was a dick, man.” My smile is bittersweet as cheers go up around me. “So let’s raise our glass and wish Sarge a happy birthday. Sarge.”

And in complete contradiction to what I say—but as is our tradition—we all tap our drinks on the bar top in front of us before saying, “Happy Birthday, Dick-man,” and tossing back our drinks.

FU-Bar erupts in a round of applause. A Band-Aid for a celebration on what is now a lifetime of pain for his widow over his life lost.

Over a life I couldn’t save.

“Gunner?”

I look toward the corner of the bar where Jenny stands. There’s a smile on her lips but sadness in her eyes.

“Hey. I didn’t see you slip in here. We waited for a while because I didn’t want you to miss the toast but—”

“I was here. Just near the back,” she says with a lift of her chin in the direction she was. “Thank you for doing this. For having this.” She motions to the packed house of veterans and soldiers alike. “It’s nice to know that his memory is still alive.”

I nod. “I wish I could do more.” I’m staring at her, but it’s his cries of agony filling my ears. I’m seeing the tears swim in her eyes, but it’s the desperate look in his as he grabbed my shirt and begged me for help, as he told me he didn’t want to die, as I promised him I’d take care of Jenny. That’s what I hear over and over.

“You always do too much. Feel too much.” She reaches out and puts a hand on the side of my cheek. “You’re too hard on yourself, Gunner.”

I smile. It’s what I feel I need to do, but inside I ache and rage and regret that I couldn’t have done more. That I didn’t react quicker. That I didn’t know the IED was there. That I wasn’t able to fucking save him. All I can do is nod. “I sent you a check last week. Did you get it?”

“Yes, but like I told you before, you really need to stop sending them.”

“It’s the least I can do,” I mumble, catching Aubrey’s eye to pull the tap and fill orders herself for a minute while I’m with Jenny.

“No, I’m serious.” She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. “I tore up the check.”

It’s then I see it. The shiny diamond solitaire on her ring finger. The one that’s different than the silver wedding band that Dickman had given her.

“Jenny?” When I look up to meet her eyes, she’s fighting tears through her smile and that’s exactly how I feel. I’m happy for her but sad for Dickman, and I honestly don’t know how it makes me feel. “Is that what I think it is?”