Page 98 of Point of Contact

Evan’s face grew shuttered, and Jesse plowed on, “Survivor’s guilt. Why did I duck and not let the bullet hit me? If I hadn’t dodged, he’d still be alive.” The memory of Riley’s shocked eyes, the blood spurting, made his gut roil, nausea surging into his throat.

“What? There were two bullets, Byrney! One right after the other. If you hadn’t ducked, I’d have two dead brothers, not one.”

“I didn’t remember that, until I started talking about it, going through what happened that day second by second.” Jesse swallowed hard, forcing down the bile. “I’ll always struggle with it, man, that I lived and Estes died. When he had a dad waiting for him and I have no one. It should’ve been me.” He choked. “It should’ve been me.”

It was Evan’s turn to grip Jesse’s shoulder, his eyes filled with his own tears of understanding.

“But it didn’t happen that way, and I can’t go back and change it. That’s what I have to accept.”

“How exactly does that work, acceptance?” Evan almost spat the last word.

“What the doc told me is that acceptance doesn’t mean making peace with his death or finding purpose in it, that it was karma or fuckin’ ‘God’s will.’” Jesse gave a watery snort as he made mocking air quotes with his fingers. “What a bunch of bullshit.”

“What does it mean, then?”

“Just...acknowledging that it hurts, letting out all the feelings related to it and not keeping them bottled in.” Jesse dashed his hand over his eyes. “Like I said, I still struggle with it. But it’s better than it was a year ago, Evan. I’ve tried to face it, and accept that nothing I can do will ever change it.” He hesitated. “I, uh, I’ve actually been spending some time with his dad.”

“What?” Evan gasped. “Estes’s dad? Why?”

“I took him over some of Riley’s stuff that I found, and I—it just turned into us helping each other.” He paused again, steeling himself for Evan’s reaction. “He’s the one I went to Hawaii with.”

Gaping at him, Evan clutched his hair. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Again, why?”

Jesse shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “It was a trip they were supposed to take together when he got back. Since I’m the one who went with him, his dad wanted to experience it through my eyes and hopefully Riley’s, too.”

“Shit. Did it help him?” Evan’s voice was hushed.

“Yes, it did. It helped both of us because seeing that it helped him helped me.” Jesse sighed. “The point is, Watty, we faced our grief head on, and we did it together. You don’t have to face it alone either.”

Evan’s face drained of all color. “I can’t—I don’t want to see his dad. God, no.”

“No, no, no. I’m not saying that. Breathe, man.” Jesse held his arm until he steadied, letting go of him cautiously. “I’m saying talk to someone. Me, Dr. K, another combat vet you know and trust.”

“If I talk to you, will you take me to Hawaii, too?”

Jesse was beyond relieved to hear a faint note of humor coloring Evan’s hoarse voice. “Nah. But we could go camping.”

“What? Really?” Evan lifted his head, his eyes bright with a cautious interest. “You’d go camping with me?”

“Sure. Maybe we could grab Smitty, too. I think he’s around somewhere.”

“Fuck, that would be awesome. Hike in somewhere, do some fishing...”

“Let’s do it.” Jesse paused. “No beer, though. Okay?”

Evan blew out a breath. “Okay. No beer.”

“Great.” Jesse clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. I’m gonna let you plan this clusterfuck. Get with Smitty, Enriquez, whoever you can find, and lemme know some dates. Figure out a route, make a list. This is your mission, PFC Watkins. Think you can handle it?”

“Yes, sir!” Watty snapped to attention, but instead of saluting, he took his middle finger and stroked it along his forehead, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck you.” Jesse shoved him before putting him in a headlock and scrubbing his knuckles over Watty’s short brown hair. They grappled for a moment, ending up in a backslapping hug, and when Jesse pulled away, he could see a few of the shadows were banished from Evan’s eyes.

“Call me, brother.” He waggled his thumb and pinkie next to his cheek and turned to jog to his truck. As he drove away, Evan stood on his porch watching him go, and Jesse clenched his fingers on the steering wheel, his body trembling with delayed reaction, hoping and praying he’d said the right thing.

Evan’s demons were many, and they were fierce. Jesse had learned firsthand that talking about painful experiences didn’t make them one iota less painful, but somehow it also made it possible to live with them. If he could get Watty to open up to him, to Smitty, Enriquez, whomever, maybe eventually he could convince him to talk to a professional, too.

Bridging the gap.