Page 22 of Everything Changes

Jase shook his head against Carey’s shoulder. “I keep seeing you lying there in that dirt, so still. There was so much blood everywhere. I constantly relive that moment when I first saw you, when I didn’t know if you were alive or dead—”

He shuddered, and Carey kept up the soothing touch.

“I don’t remember anything from before the blast. Most of the day is a blank.” Carey grimaced. The missing time had bothered him for a while, but he knew it was his brain’s way of protecting itself from the memory of trauma.

“We played volleyball, Carey, all morning. There was nothing going on. It was so quiet. You had to stand duty after lunch, so you said you wanted to take a short nap. I had to go see a few guys in the clinic, and when I came back, you were curled up asleep in the shade of that Humvee tire. You had your head on a rucksack and it looked so uncomfortable, so I sat down against the tire and pulled your head into my lap.”

Carey chuckled. They’d often napped like that outside, a head pillowed on a stomach, a lap. So much better than the rocky ground, and all the guys did it.

“I fell asleep too, and then that fucking Gomez came by and accidentally on purpose spilled his canteen on us. Prick.”

They laughed quietly. Pretty much everyone had called Gomez “that fucking Gomez.” He was the guy who always had a joke, a one-liner. He was hilarious, the life of the party, had a gift for easing any tension in just the right way. He’d also died in the attack that had injured Carey.

“Jase, did you know that Gomez’s wife visited me in the hospital?”

Jase lifted his head from Carey’s shoulder. His face was a little more relaxed, though his eyes still looked haunted. He shook his head silently.

“She did. I woke up one afternoon and she was there. Fuck, I didn’t even know that he’d—” Carey swallowed hard. When he’d seen Mira’s haggard face, he knew immediately without even having to be told.

“What did she say?”

“Landon—you remember him? He was there at Walter Reed too. Apparently he told her that Gomez was with me on duty when the attack started. She wanted to know how that last hour or so of his life was, what we talked about, what he said.” Carey grew quiet.

“What did you say?” Jase’s voice was hushed.

“I—lied. How could I tell this grieving widow that I didn’t fucking remember anything about her husband’s last moments? She looked so… hopeful that I could tell her something, anything about him.” Carey’s voice was strained. “So I made up this entire fucking imaginary conversation between me and Gomez, told her that he talked about her, their kids, how much he couldn’t wait to be home. I told her that he made me laugh over and over doing impressions of LT and Sarge—” His voice cut off as he choked up.

“You did the right thing, Carey,” Jase said quietly. Carey was ashamed of himself for bringing up this topic; now Jase was having to comfort him, and that was the last thing Carey wanted. He made an effort to pull himself together.

“It seemed to satisfy her. Then she—oh my God, she mentioned you, Jase. I’m such an asshole. I completely forgot about this. Oh, Jase.” Carey felt himself choking up again for an entirely different reason.

“What?” Jase looked alarmed.

“No, no, it’s good. She said that Landon had told her how hard you tried to save Gomez, that after you had me stabilized you took over for another corpsman and you worked over him for a long time.”

Jase’s face grew shadowed. “He was pretty much gone when I took over, Carey. He still had a heartbeat, but it was so weak and thready that there was no way he was getting any oxygen to his brain. It just took me a little longer to accept that and give up, that’s all.”

“But Jase, she said for me to tell you ‘thank you’ for working so hard to save her Juan’s life, that she thanks God every day that he sent a hero like you to help her husband. That even if God took him home after all, she knows you did the best you could.”

Jase closed his eyes, and after a moment, a single tear tracked its way down his cheek.

“Jase,” Carey said shakily. “I’m so fucking sorry that I never told you about that. I’m such a—I’m such a selfish asshole.”

Jase wiped his cheek impatiently. “You’re not a selfish asshole! Stop saying that! You told me now, and that’s all that matters. And yes, it helps to know that she doesn’t hate me for not being able to save her husband. It’s one of those irrational fears I have, that the families of these guys hate me for not doing more, that now they’re just memories while I’m home safe.”

“Just like you thought that maybe deep down I hated you for not being able to save my leg?” Carey asked gently. “And yes, I’m selfish, Jase. Maybe I had a good excuse for being a self-centered prick, but the fact remains that I should have told you a long time ago about Mira, and I should have known that you needed to hear from me that I’m glad you saved my life. Hell, I counsel wounded vets for a living, and I know that you needed to hear that to help with your own recovery. You’re the most important person in my life, and I didn’t make sure you got what you needed, Jase. I’m so sorry.”

“But I’m not wounded, Carey,” Jase said wanly. “I’m just weak.”

Carey took Jase’s face in his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “In war, there are no unwounded soldiers, Jase.”

Jase closed his eyes.

“No, look at me.” Carey waited until Jase complied, and then he said, “You’re not weak. Something happened to you. You went to war and you saw terrible things. That happened to you. You’re not weak. You are the strongest man I know.”

He pulled Jase close again. “Let’s just get through today, okay?” he whispered.

He smiled as he heard Jase whisper back, “One day at a time.”