Page 156 of Holding On

Okay, that's weird. Why is he telling me this?

"Becca said you don't like to talk about it."

"I don't. But I'm going to anyway and I need you to listen."

"Go ahead," I say, nodding for him to continue.

"The day it happened started out like any other. We did our work, and at night, we got back to our camp and were gonna have a party for one of the guys on my squad. It was his birthday. We couldn't do a lot, given that we were in the desert, but we had to do something. The kid was only 20 and missed home. I decided we should surprise him so I told everyone to go wait in the tent while I went and got Jared." He shakes his head, his eyes distant. "That's when the bomb went off. Right in the tent. Blew it into a thousand pieces, one of which hit my leg. Another one hit Jared, right as he was walking toward me. I'll never forget it. One minute he was standing there with that lopsided grin of his, the next he had a piece of metal slicing through his chest."

"Fuck," I mutter, imagining that.

"Yeah. It was a fuckin' nightmare." He rubs his hand over his jaw. "Those guys were like family to me. And I was in charge of them." He looks at me. "I let them die."

"It wasn't your fault. You didn't know about the bomb."

"It was my job to assess our surroundings. Check our camp. Make sure it was safe. I didn't because it had been such a quiet day. I hadn't seen a single car or truck go by and I hadn't heard news of any imminent threats in our area. In fact, we were in what was considered a safe zone. But still, I should've done my job. I should've followed procedure."

"Even if you had, you still may not have known about it."

"Doesn't matter. The fact remains that I was in charge of the health and safety of my squad and I failed them. I got them killed. And I have to live with that every day."

I stare down at the cast on my leg. "Why are you telling me this?"

He pauses. "I know about the accident, Ethan. I read the stories in the paper. I know what happened."

I keep quiet, not sure where he's going with this.

"Nightmares," he says. "Waking up in a cold sweat. Images flashing in your head when you're not expecting them. Sounds filling your ears and you can't make them go away. Your mind retracing every detail of that night, telling you what you should have done differently."

That's exactly what it's like. Every goddamn day. Ever since the accident, that's been my life. Just like he described.

"Ethan." He waits until I look at him. "It doesn't have to be this way."

"What way? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He's staring at me so intensely I feel like he can see right through me.

"Okay, fine." I look away. "It's sometimes like that. Like you described."

"Is it getting worse?"

I shut my eyes to avoid his stare but then the images start again. Jason at the wheel. Kasey being tossed around like a rag doll. I quickly open my eyes and sharply inhale a breath.

"A flashback," he says, knowingly.

I don't respond.

"They'll just keep coming if you don't deal with this."

"Deal with what?" I ask harshly. "The fact that I killed three people?"

"Is that what you think? That you killed them?"

I look down, shaking my head. "I don't want to talk about this."

"So you'd rather just continue like you've been? Hiding away in this house? Pushing away your friends? Your girlfriend?"

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