Page 4 of Reignite

That poor girl. Poor Gray. It wasn’t pity I felt for him. I wished with all my heart that something like this hadn’t changed the path of his entire life.

“That’s when I heard the most unholy gut-wrenching scream and what I thought was another insurgent jumped from behind the rubble, charging like a demon from hell, shooting at Serena.”

God, could this get any worse?

“He was covered in robes and a hood, so we couldn’t see his face, only the Beretta he was pointing at Serena. I reacted, opened fire, and shot to kill.”

Yeah, it could get a lot worse.

“He stumbled but kept coming, so I shot again and again. He was obviously wearing a bullet-proof armor and hopped up on adrenaline, so I shot his legs out from under him.”

I’d figured out where this was going and I wanted to scream for Gray to stop. Stop reliving the moment. How many times had he lived through this memory? It broke my heart to shreds.

I swallowed my own fears and let him continue. If he wanted me to hear this agony, I would. I’d asked him to bare his soul to me, tell me his secrets. I certainly wasn’t going to say kidding. I don’t like this story, shut up.

Even while the tinny taste of anxiety bubbled up from my stomach to my mouth, I listened and loved.

“He shot again, but at the man holding Serena and then fell to the ground not six inches in front of me. I didn’t understand what I had done, until Serena screamed his name and ran to him. How she knew it was Foster, I don’t know. I didn’t realize until she pulled the hood off and saw that I’d shot my own best friend.” Sheer agony threaded through each of his words.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. Enough. I sat up and pressed a half dozen kisses to his forehead, eyelids and lips. “But you didn’t know, and he couldn’t have died, because he was here last night.”

“He did die. For three minutes and seventeen seconds. The medevac guys brought him back. He died again at the hospital during surgery, and they brought him back a second time. Everyone said it was a miracle he lived at all.”

I stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He grabbed my hand stopping me from giving any more comfort. “To me? Foster’s the one who died and lost the use of his legs.”

Umm, what? “But he…” Come to think of it, I’d never seen Foster anywhere but sitting. He drew people to him, around him, but he’d always been sitting. “Is he paralyzed?”

“We thought he would be. He’s got titanium implants and years of physical therapy I forced him to attend. I wouldn’t allow him to be paralyzed.”

Oh, Gray. He had this mountain of guilt he was buried under and had tried so hard to dig himself out. Foster couldn’t have been a grateful friend.

“And the woman, Serena, wasn’t she there to help shoulder some of the burden?”

A dark thunderous cloud, like the kind that makes class five tornadoes, crossed Gray’s eyes. “I don’t want to, and won’t talk about Serena.”

“Okay.” So she would be a story for another day, after he released this burden. “But what happened in between then and now? I don’t really understand how we got to this point.”

Gray sat up next to me and wrapped his arms over his knees. Closing himself off. “I spent five of the last ten years trying to make it up to him. He’s never forgiven me.”

I wasn’t sure at this point whether he’d welcome my touch, but I had to try. I placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure you’ve done more than your fair share to help him through a difficult period of his life.”

He tilted his head like he couldn’t decide whether to nod or shake his head. “I didn’t leave his side through all the physical therapy, and when he was ready to give up, on the verge of suicide, I tried to find something else for him to live for.”

“Gray, it sounds like Foster needed therapy. He shouldn’t have to be your responsibility. Especially not if he was suicidal.” I only wished Foster had been institutionalized, gotten the help he needed, and could have let Gray alone.

“That’s not how it works. There are too many guys who come home broken and if we don’t take care of our own, they’ll fall through the cracks. He needed a distraction, something to take his mind off his injuries and let him feel in control again.”

“It still makes me sad and mad that you had to take on that responsibility.”

For the first time since he’d begun the story, Gray looked at me. Really looked at me. He reached out and cupped my face, and I leaned into him.

“I don’t know what else you could have done for Foster.”

Gray smiled, but not with humor, but more like a long lost sadness tugged at his mouth. “What do guys want, need, and think about every hour of every day? Sex.”

Chingada Madre. “You took him to a club.”

He nodded. “Smart girl, my Angel.”

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