She’d worn it when she had told him she was coming home and again when she had talked about emptying her bedroom of Russ’s things. She still hadn’t gone into the master bedroom as far as he could tell. She was sleeping on the couch and using his bathroom to shower.
“Need a wingman?”
“It’s weird, right? I’m being weird. They’re family. I shouldn’t feel threatened.”
She’d been keeping a low profile since she’d come home, picking up the odd grocery item, but mostly going from home to the base and back. He’d heard her take a few calls, but hadn’t seen her make any, seeming reluctant to advertise that she was back.
He leaned on the counter next to the fridge, thinking about how much the evening would suck for him.
“No?” She sounded forlorn.
“I feel really guilty, Jac. I’ve seen Rhonda a couple of times at the bank, but his parents? Not since the funeral.”
“They don’t blame you!” She came forward and gripped his wrists where he had them folded across his chest. Her hands were cool from being outside. “We all know that the work is risky, that this could happen. No one thinks you could have done anything more than you did.”
He searched her eyes, really hoping that was the truth.
“Oh, Vin.” She breathed. “When you said you think all the time about what else you could have done, you weren’t exaggerating, weren’t you?”
He closed his eyes, letting out an exhale that was more a jagged groan of pain. “It’s an endless loop.”
“The counseling didn’t help?”
He opened his eyes enough to silently ask if she was serious. “They told me to keep a diary .” He let his shoulders drop as he was honest with himself. “Actually, they said to keep a record of what I’m thinking, or, if that’s too much, to at least note the time, to track how often I think of the accident. That way I’ll be aware that I’m doing it and can make a point of thinking about something else. I get the reasoning, but…” He pushed his hand into his hair.
“Letting go of the guilty thoughts feels like letting go of Russ, which feels disloyal and awful.” She said it with the knowledge of shared experienced.
“Yes.” The huge cloud of inadequacy over failing his friend broke apart enough to offer the barest glimmer of sunlight. He rubbed his face, digging his finger and thumb into eyes that felt salted and painful. “I watched it happen and couldn’t do a damned thing. I couldn’t get to the ground any faster. I couldn’t get to him, couldn’t get up to him, any faster than I did. I ordered the rescue chopper. That’s all I could do. Then I probably made his injuries worse, lowering him, but I couldn’t wait for help. For a spine board and collar. I couldn’t leave him up there.”
“I know. You did everything right, Vin. You did everything you could do.”
Her light fingers soothed across his forearms and it was almost an irritation. His guards were all the way down, leaving him raw. His skin felt like the top layer was gone, but he needed that touch even though it blistered. It kept him here, not straining on the end of a rope as he lowered his unconscious friend in increments, through branches, sweating bullets at how painstakingly slow it was. Listening for chopper blades, listening for Russ to wake up and trash talk him for overreacting…
He hadn’t been overreacting.
He was trying not to let the terror and helpless rage and grief overcome him now. But he had to say this to Jacqui. He needed her to know.
“I want to go back to before we left the base.” His voice was gritty and dry, painfully dry in his throat. “I want to tell him that we should wait for Dodson to get there. He was on his way and if we’d waited twenty minutes, the entire day could have been different. But Russ said no, he wanted to jump. He wanted to go because he hadn’t been out in a while and he had this same fucking bug, Jac. He needed to jump.”
“I know.”
When he thought he
“Need a wingman?”
“It’s weird, right? I’m being weird. They’re family. I shouldn’t feel threatened.”
She’d been keeping a low profile since she’d come home, picking up the odd grocery item, but mostly going from home to the base and back. He’d heard her take a few calls, but hadn’t seen her make any, seeming reluctant to advertise that she was back.
He leaned on the counter next to the fridge, thinking about how much the evening would suck for him.
“No?” She sounded forlorn.
“I feel really guilty, Jac. I’ve seen Rhonda a couple of times at the bank, but his parents? Not since the funeral.”
“They don’t blame you!” She came forward and gripped his wrists where he had them folded across his chest. Her hands were cool from being outside. “We all know that the work is risky, that this could happen. No one thinks you could have done anything more than you did.”
He searched her eyes, really hoping that was the truth.
“Oh, Vin.” She breathed. “When you said you think all the time about what else you could have done, you weren’t exaggerating, weren’t you?”
He closed his eyes, letting out an exhale that was more a jagged groan of pain. “It’s an endless loop.”
“The counseling didn’t help?”
He opened his eyes enough to silently ask if she was serious. “They told me to keep a diary .” He let his shoulders drop as he was honest with himself. “Actually, they said to keep a record of what I’m thinking, or, if that’s too much, to at least note the time, to track how often I think of the accident. That way I’ll be aware that I’m doing it and can make a point of thinking about something else. I get the reasoning, but…” He pushed his hand into his hair.
“Letting go of the guilty thoughts feels like letting go of Russ, which feels disloyal and awful.” She said it with the knowledge of shared experienced.
“Yes.” The huge cloud of inadequacy over failing his friend broke apart enough to offer the barest glimmer of sunlight. He rubbed his face, digging his finger and thumb into eyes that felt salted and painful. “I watched it happen and couldn’t do a damned thing. I couldn’t get to the ground any faster. I couldn’t get to him, couldn’t get up to him, any faster than I did. I ordered the rescue chopper. That’s all I could do. Then I probably made his injuries worse, lowering him, but I couldn’t wait for help. For a spine board and collar. I couldn’t leave him up there.”
“I know. You did everything right, Vin. You did everything you could do.”
Her light fingers soothed across his forearms and it was almost an irritation. His guards were all the way down, leaving him raw. His skin felt like the top layer was gone, but he needed that touch even though it blistered. It kept him here, not straining on the end of a rope as he lowered his unconscious friend in increments, through branches, sweating bullets at how painstakingly slow it was. Listening for chopper blades, listening for Russ to wake up and trash talk him for overreacting…
He hadn’t been overreacting.
He was trying not to let the terror and helpless rage and grief overcome him now. But he had to say this to Jacqui. He needed her to know.
“I want to go back to before we left the base.” His voice was gritty and dry, painfully dry in his throat. “I want to tell him that we should wait for Dodson to get there. He was on his way and if we’d waited twenty minutes, the entire day could have been different. But Russ said no, he wanted to jump. He wanted to go because he hadn’t been out in a while and he had this same fucking bug, Jac. He needed to jump.”
“I know.”
When he thought he
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