Page 90 of Hard to Lose

Gunner startles awake, disoriented with wide eyes and his chest heaving, ready to fight against me as if I were the enemy.

“Are you okay?” he asks me when he catches his breath and orients himself.

“Mm-hmm,” I say quietly, as I stay where I’m seated but lay my chest on top of his so I can slide my arms around him. It takes him a second before he accepts the silent comfort and compassion and wraps his arms around me in turn.

We lie like this for some time. With his chin on the crown of my head and my head on his chest, with the strong staccato of his heart against my ear.

“I don’t sleep well most nights,” he murmurs after a bit, finally breaking the silence.

“Understandably.”

“I have to work myself to the point of utter exhaustion before I crash or else the nightmares come.”

I’m the furthest thing from a psychologist, but the one thing I can imagine is that most nights Gunner feels completely out of control against his memories. It’s an assumption—maybe it’s even something I read in the Military Life magazine in my hotel room—but it’s enough to make me want him to feel in control of this conversation at least.

It’s not much but it’s the best I can do.

“I’m here if you want to talk about the nightmare. I’m here if you don’t want to talk about it.” I press a kiss to his chest. “I’m just here, is all.”

Gunner runs his hand up and down the length of my back and blows out a sigh. “I led the guys into the village that day. I’m the one who trusted our interpreter and thought he was trustworthy. I was pissed about everything back home and didn’t care what trouble we got ourselves into. I was the selfish one because while I felt that way, they all had families at home and people who loved them.”

“As did you,” I whisper.

“No. I had nothing anymore. As I explained, I’d said goodbye to everything that had mattered to me before in the letters Dickman suggested I write. One went to my mom where I told her I loved her, but that I could no longer live in her world full of excuses and misgivings. A few went to sports agencies telling them thanks, but no thanks. Another to the girl I had been dating at the time. I had nothing and no one who I felt missed me, so I was the reckless one, leading my men, my brothers, into danger.”

His words cut through me like a knife, and I struggle how to comfort, how to acknowledge, how to relate when there’s no possible way I ever could. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“There’s nothing you can say. It was what I had to do to survive the situation I was in. But it also made me dangerous to those around me, because I didn’t care what happened to me since I’d already said goodbye to everything I’d loved.”

“Jesus, Gunner.”

“Yeah, I know better now. I know how precious life is and all that I would have missed out on . . . but that day, I didn’t care. I didn’t care, and so I pushed our team to go into that village and get the intel I was told was there. I harassed Dickman when he said no. I got the guys rallied up over it. I was the one who caused it.”

“You’re not at fault for what happened.”

“Men died, Chase. My friends, my brothers, died. And I’m the one who has to bear that burden my whole life.” His sigh is heavy, his chest shuddering right after. “I told you I wasn’t as good as you’ve made me out to be in your head.”

His chuckle is self-deprecating at best and the sound of it holds so much grief and guilt that I can’t not argue with him. I sit up so that he’s forced to meet my eyes.

“You weren’t the commanding officer. Dickman could have said no. He could have told you to go to hell. You are not—”

“I pushed for it though.” His eyes glisten with tears that destroy me. “I was so desperate to feel again that maybe I craved the thrill of a fight. Maybe I needed to make sure I wasn’t dead . . . and in the course, killed four of my friends.”

I frame his face, my soft hands against his rough stubble, and wish I could take away his pain, but know I can’t. “I can tell you till I’m blue in the face that you’re not to blame, but I know you won’t hear or accept it. So I’m going to tell you this, Gunner Camden, and I hope you hear it. You are an incredible human being who not only saved lives that day with your heroics—”

“Chase—”

“No. You listen to me. You saved lives that day, and in the process, almost got yourself killed. Since then, you’ve dedicated your free time to kids who don’t have parents and created a successful business where you give a part of the earnings from your hard work to widows of your fallen soldiers.” I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “You make a difference, Gunner. You’ve devoted your life to trying to ease the survivor’s guilt you have, while you make so many more lives better. You make a difference.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he blinks away the tears welling in his eyes.

And I’m okay with the fact that instead of words, he pulls me back down to his chest and just holds on tight.

His chest hitches and each time it does, my heart breaks a little more and fills with love at the same time.

And it makes me coming to terms with what I’ve done and what I’m going to have to do that much harder.

While I thought it would be okay to walk away from him not sharing my truths, I know I can’t do that now. Given his complete honesty, his honor, his heart, he deserves my utmost respect. I don’t want him to believe that I set out to delude him, but he does need to know that in withholding the truth from him, for lying to him, he has the right to feel deceived.