Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Ohmygod!”
“I don’t really know how I survived. Fuck, the rescue team didn’t either when they finally arrived on the scene.” A slow, shaky break is expelled. “I had a severe concussion. Memory loss. Cuts. Bruises. A broken finger. Fucked up knees. And some shrapnel in my leg. I was furthest from both blasts but not completely out of the radius. And you know how that happened? Because instead of being in the front with my boys, my best fucking friends, my goddamn brothers, I was in the back. Concerned about our six. Concerned about that child that I didn’t want to die from a stray gun shot.” His jaw trembles, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to cup it for just a second. “From my gun shot.”
“Baby…”
“I had to look Hiltz’s pregnant wife in her face when she came begging for answers, pounding on my door to know what happened and tell her more than the bullshit classified line I was instructed to. And as if the dying howls of her husband I had somehow crawled closer to weren’t enough, I then had to live with those nightmarish cries. Listening to her blame me. Saying it should’ve been me instead. Swearing to me I’d never see my goddaughter again – which I haven’t.”
“She was just…grieving.”
One shoulder slightly bounces. “And if all that shit wasn’t enough, mental and physical therapy sucked every dime out of me that I had. Turns out that wasn’t very much because the chick I had been calling my girlfriend while on duty had replaced me with some bartending asshole and wiped my account damn near clean.”
“Bitch!”
“One minute I’m just trying to learn basic functions again, and the next I’m out on my ass because I’m lost in a fucking jungle of paperwork with no guide, no mercy, no fucking clue how to get the help it’s obvious I need. I don’t have any money. I don’t have any family. I don’t have any ties. I don’t have anywhere to go because all the programs designed to supposedly help men like me require more hoops for you to jump through than the fucking Olympics.” Resentment suddenly rages through his stare. “I gave my goddamn life for this fucking country. For these…fucking people who make more money than God by exploiting our vulnerabilities, our need to fucking belong, our need to contribute to society yet when the tables are turned, when its us who need them, they can’t fucking give back? They can’t – at the very fucking least – help make the process of getting vets the assistance they need less complicated or have less pitfalls for us to fall into? They can’t help us from becoming just one more case number in an endless line in their flawed fucked up system? Can’t they see we really need fucking help?” Ignoring the tears on his cheeks is impossible. “Can’t they show a little more…fucking compassion?” Hearing his sniffle has my hand leaning over to wipe them away. “Like you did, sweetheart.”
Heated hatred promptly fades into pure anguish of a broken man.
Geez, I can’t blame him for being the withdrawn and grumpy type knowing that. Can you?
Once his face has been rid of the clearly unwanted tears, I quietly state, “Maybe having the compassion of one can be enough to help you let go of not having the compassion of many.”
“Maybe.”
I run my hand slowly over until our fingers can fold together. “You don’t have to keep fighting by yourself. Not the memories. Not the emotions. Not the paperwork. None of it. We’ll eat the elephant together, baby. One bite at a time.” The expression on my face softens. “You’re not alone anymore, Archer. I’m here for you. Day and night. And you know what? I’m not going anywhere.”
He squeezes my hand but doesn’t say another word.
Honestly, I don’t need him to. As long as he heard me, that’s what matters. I was already determined to prove that I can be here for him; however, now that I know just how deep he really needs someone, I plan to double my efforts. Show him the world isn’t just the cruel place he’s come to know. Like I said. We’ll take everything on together. Day by day. Nibble by nibble.
Chapter 15
Archer
I make my last trek to the recycle bin for the night, thankful that this part of my project is finally fucking over.
Don’t get me wrong. I love renovating this house – our house – but putting together Jaye’s fancy fucking weird shaped desk for her new home office was a goddamn nightmare. So many little pieces. So many strangely shaped parts. Oh, and the fact some asshole forgot to pack a set of English directions for the fucking thing didn’t help either. Watching tutorial videos on YouTube from my phone was somehow both helpful and infuriating. Maybe because I didn’t think the stupid thing should’ve been so complicated or maybe because the dude was drinking a beer while he did it like the shit was far from difficult.