Page 53 of Damaged

I had no idea how much time had passed but it didn’t matter. I was too numb to care about anything. I needed to stay numb. I needed to not feel. I needed to be the Silver I’d been; the one who’d survived for so many years with Ivan.

“Silver, do you mind if I come on board?” Jace asked.

I wanted to tell him no because then I could pretend that the whole thing had only been a cruel dream and I would wake up at any moment. I’d be back in Dalton’s arms on the lounger, and he’d gently wake me up. He’d chase the nightmare away with soft kisses on my neck, my jawline, the sensitive spot behind my ear.

The boat swayed sharply one way, then the other.

“Wake up,” I whispered. I didn’t realize I was repeating the same two words over and over to myself until I felt a hand settle on my shoulder.

“Silver…”

I shook my head violently but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want Jace to touch me. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I didn’t want him or anyone else to come near me. There was only one person I wanted.

“He’s going to be okay,” Jace gently said. “He’s sleeping comfortably. I have someone watching him in case he wakes up before we get back to the house.”

I couldn’t stop the harsh sob of relief that threatened to steal my breath.

“I should have called you sooner,” I murmured. I didn’t recognize my own voice and for the life of me, I couldn’t stop rocking back and forth. “I should have done it as soon as I knew.”

“You did everything right, Silver. He’s alive because you chose to stay. You chose to pick up that phone when you realized this time wasn’t the same as the others,” Jace said with a heavy sigh. “God, if you hadn’t been here?—”

“I’m the reason he did this,” I said sharply. I finally managed to look at Jace. He was a mess. His clothes were wet in spots, and he still had Dalton’s vomit on his shirt. “I did this,” I repeated, my voice cracking. “I was cruel to him. I was angry and hurt. And scared. So fucking scared,” I admitted. “I made him remember things he didn’t want to remember. I did this.”

Jace didn’t respond right away. I couldn’t help but drop my eyes. I only knew the man through his sister’s stories about him.

“Silver, look at me. Please,” Jace said. It wasn’t a command; it was a request. I forced myself to do as he asked. “Dalton did this,” he said firmly. “Dalton chose to drink too much, to take too many pills.” Jace paused before he dropped his eyes. “I know you’re blaming yourself right now. You’re asking yourself what you could have done differently.”

Jace hesitated briefly before adding, “You’re allowed to be pissed at him, Silver. You’re allowed to rip him a new one when he wakes up. You’re allowed to be scared shitless. You’re allowed to wish you hadn’t seen him like that. The one thing you can’t do is carry this for him.” Jace’s voice increased with every word he said, and it dawned on me that he wasn’t only talking about me.

He fell silent for a long time. His despair was obvious.

“I never saw it,” Jace said with a shake of his head. He had his arms crossed but not in a way that proved he was angry. No, his stance was that of someone trying to come to terms with what had happened. “He’s my best friend. He’s my brother,” he murmured. I knew Dalton wasn’t actually Jace’s brother but the bond they had was clearly the same even if they didn’t share the same blood.

It hurt to see a man like Jace trying to hold himself together. I instinctively knew that he was the kind of person who wanted to fix things—needed to fix them—but this time he couldn’t.

“How did you meet him?” I asked.

A soft smile tugged at his mouth. “Army,” he responded. “Boot camp. We were two stupid kids who didn’t understand what it meant to take someone’s life. We officially met when we had to spar… to fight one another as part of our training. He kicked my ass. I got to return the favor when it came to shooting. I hit the target every time. Dalton, not so much.”

I couldn’t help but be reminded about Dalton’s physique. He was heavier than Jace, but it was also all muscle.

Muscle he’d only used on me the one time when I’d woken him up from his nightmare.

“He ultimately became my spotter. That’s the person who works with a sniper to get the information they need to make the shot.”

“What’s a sniper?” I asked.

“It’s someone who can make a shot and hit his target from a long distance. The spotter helps measure data like wind direction, speed, and the exact location of the target. He also surveils the area around himself and the sniper to make sure the enemy can’t sneak up on them. He communicates with the superior officers who are ordering the hit. They give the final go-ahead and then the sniper determines when to take the shot.”

It was a lot to digest but I found it didn’t really bother me if I didn’t truly get it. I understood what enemies were. I’d lived with one nearly my entire life. If given a gun along with no one to interfere, I couldn’t say I wouldn’t have taken the shot.

“What happened to his back?” I asked. It was something I would have liked to eventually ask Dalton directly, but that opportunity had flown out the window when I’d seen Dalton lying on the floor and Jace trying to wake him up.

Jace, for his part, didn’t seem to mind freely talking about the man who’d somehow become so intertwined in my life that sometimes it felt like he’d been with me forever, if not in person, then in my head, encouraging me to keep fighting, to stay alive.

“That happened on his last deployment. I left the army after our first deployment, but Dalton chose to stay in. So I wasn’t there when it happened, but I learned about it when I went to see him in the hospital. Several IEDs went off when his team was doing recon on this small town. He was lucky because everyone else on his team died. He ended up with shrapnel—those are small pieces of metal—penetrating his back in multiple places. Doctors got all but three of the pieces out. Those pieces were very close to his spinal column.”

I was shaking by the time Jace was done talking because it was registering how close to death Dalton had been.

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