Page 275 of Sticks and Stones
In fact, he was sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him as he stared into the fireplace.
He’d not said a word for a while, and that was worrisome.
“Hey,” Greyson said, getting his attention.
Corbin looked over.
The man had barely eaten anything when they were having dinner, and he was worried about him.
“Your mom sent soup. How about I warm some up for you?” he asked.
Corbin just shrugged.
That was Greyson’s sign that he’d likely sip it if he had it. He knew his mouth had to be sore for a plethora of reasons.
“I’ll get you some,” he said, getting up.
Corbin went to follow.
“You can stay here,” Greyson offered.
That was when Corbin spoke.
“Can I come with you? I don’t do well alone,” he admitted.
The poor guy.
Greyson couldn’t imagine how scared he had to be and what he’d been through.
Gently, Greyson smiled at him.
“Sure,” he said, showing compassion and kindness. “We should probably give you some meds, too. Are you sore?” he asked.
He nodded.
Going into the men’s kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and found the containers of soup that Alice had packed up for them.
He then poured some into a mug and put it in the microwave.
As that was heating up, he got the pills and poured a couple into his hand.
“Here you go, Corbin.”
He took them.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” Corbin said. “I’m sure you’d rather be out with them helping.”
Greyson reassured him.
“I was a soldier once,” he admitted. “I’ve done the shit they are doing already. It’s overrated,” he stated, not adding anything more to that.
Greyson didn’t like to talk about his time in the Army and the things he’d seen and done.
Honestly, Greyson was glad he didn’t have to go out with them. When you crossed that line, it changed you—and you didn’t always make it back.
Before you knew it, you were one step away from being a monster.
No one wanted him running amuck with his PTSD from the military and his propensity for acts of violence.
