Page 28 of A Moment Never Forgotten
He glanced back at her sleeping form.
Fuck. He’d missed so much. He loved knowing that the child inside her was theirs. He’d never admit it to anyone at work, but her monthly checkups were his favorite days. With each ultrasound, he’d watched his son grow. He’d devoured several pregnancy books, asked Lizzie of million questions, and had her OB/GYN on speed dial. This was his first pregnancy, and would no doubt be his last. He couldn’t put her through this ever again.
An hour later, Micah and Austin came through the door laughing. Matthew couldn’t be jealous. Instead, he was thankful to his old friend for stepping in for him, giving his son an excellent male role model of a good man. Austin’s stepfather had been a piece of shit.
“Go shower. You stink.” Micah said as he play-shoved Austin.
“Okay,” the boy said with a devilish smile, lifting the food bags. “I’ll just take these with me so y’all don’t start without me.”
“No way, son.” Matthew pointed to the dining room as he stepped out of the kitchen. “In there.”
“Dad, you’re home early.” Matthew didn’t want to ever get over that feeling of joy of being called Dad. His son’s face gleamed with happiness. After setting the bags on the table, Austin gave him a hug.
“Yuck. Uncle Micah is right.” Matthew scrunched up his face. “Hit the shower…and be sure to use soap.”
Micah made his way over to the wet bar and had a finger of scotch poured for each of them as Matthew turned around. “I think you need this as much as I do.” His friend shoved the glass at him. Micah hadn’t been kidding when Lizzie opened the wedding present from him. He announced that he would be using that gift every time he came to their house. On his first visit, he brought a bottle of twenty-five-year-old scotch. Half-empty after a dozen visits, he set the bottle back on the shelf.
Matthew loved the way their friends made themselves at home. He hated playing host. From what he’d been told, Mason hated the role as well. It was a good thing Lizzie was so social.
Matthew sipped, felt the smooth burn and crossed his tongue and down his throat, all the way to his stomach. He felt much better.
“Not sleeping well?” Micah asked as he swirled his glass of aged scotch.
The golden rays of the setting sun through the kitchen window caught the facets in the crystal glass and amber liquid. Bright gold slashed in Matthew's eyes.
He winced and threw up his arm as though to deflect what his mind told him was coming…the board from his dream, memory, nightmare, whatever the hell they were. Since it was happening in broad daylight, flashback might better describe it as he relived segments just before the explosion.
He was back in Syria. He’d been walking toward the wall where he was to plant charges, and the board flew up in his face. Looking down into the hole, his headlamp flashed on polished gold bars sitting in ammunition boxes on the dirt floor.
Fuck. The voice kept talking but Mason couldn’t understand. Darkness was closing in on him. He was able to open his eyes a slit in see the silhouette of a man framed in a doorway. He closed his eyes again fighting to maintain consciousness.
When he opened them, light outlined the closed door.
He had to get there. No matter what it took, he had to make it there and through that door.
Now.
The bombs were going to blow the building to smithereens.
He had to get out.
He had to make it back to Lizzie.
With the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped the blood off his face.
His heart pounded as he squinted at the door frame.
Opening his eyes wide enough to look for the handle, doorknob, some way to open the fucking door, he wiped his face off with a gritty hand.
Sucking in a breath of desert air, he stumbled to his feet. He had to get as far away as possible.
He knew what was coming. The force of the blast would shove him down to the ground and cover him in dirt and debris. He threw his hands out as though to catch himself, this time, rather than fall onto a rock that crushed half of his face.
“Hey, Matt, you okay?” Micah’s voice was close but echoed as though they were in a tunnel.
Matthew opened his eyes and looked at his hands expecting to see them drenched in blood.
They were covered in scotch.
