Masters at Arms (Rescue Me Saga, #0.5)(50)

The young man’s eyes cleared. “Fucking nightmare.” He continued to breathe rapidly.

“Yeah, it was.”

“You can let me go. I won’t punch you.”

“Again, you mean?”

“Aw, shit. I did it again?”

Adam smiled. “Barely stung me. I’d like to see the day when a young pup like you can get the better of me.”

“Why do you keep putting up with my shit? You haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in six months.”

“Sleep’s overrated. I’ve been a Marine for more than twenty years. My body doesn’t need much sleep to function.”

“You’ve had to put your club opening on hold, too. I’m costing you money.”

Adam stood up to assume his maximum intimidation stance. He placed his fists on his hips, his elbows at a ninety-degree angle, and tightened the muscles of his bare chest. “Now hear this. We’re Marines. We look out for each other—on and off the battlefield. Until you’re ready, the f*cking club can wait.”

Damián closed his eyes, crooked his arm, and draped it over his eyes.

“You aren’t going to get rid of me just because you can’t see me.” Adam sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, tell me about the dream.”

Damián’s therapist said the more he talked about the experirence, the less power it would have over him. Joni had done that with him while he was on his medical leave recovering from the Afghan ambush. She’d held him, cried for him, and just let him talk until he was all talked out.

If Damián kept talking, more details might come out, especially the ones he was afraid to admit even to himself. Adam talked him down from the nightmares every time. Just in the last month, he’d gone from nightmares two or three times a night to only once a night. Progress.

“The same one. Grenade goes off. Sarge blocked the blast for me, but wound up…” Damián stopped rattling off the usual details, but his breathing became shallow and rapid again.

“Deep breath. Now!”

Damián responded, taking several deep breaths actually. “Should have been me.”

Adam knew guilt had been eating at the kid all along. Hell, he knew that feeling firsthand. No amount of therapy would help either of them lose that. They’d survived while others had not.

“You’d have done the same thing if you were in Miller’s place. Hell, Grant and Wilson said you were trying to protect them. Stop blaming yourself for what some f*cking insurgent is responsible for.”

Damián lowered his arm and looked Adam in the face. His body began to shake, almost imperceptibly at first, then harder. Adam rubbed the scar on the back of his neck.

“I froze.” The words came out in a whisper. Tears streamed unheeded down the sides of Damián’s face.

Fucking breakthrough. This was the first time Damián had admitted to freezing. The kid’s pain tore Adam’s guts out. After what he’d watched him go through the past several months, he’d thought they’d never get at what was eating him. He never wanted to give the kid a hug more than he did now.

Where the f*ck did that come from? He didn’t need to baby him.

“Tell me what happened.” Adam started to reach out and squeeze his arm in support, but backed off. Touching him might interrupt this confession of sorts. He needed to let him talk, release some of his demons.

Damián turned his head away and pulled his legs up, the right knee tenting under the sheet a few inches lower than the left because of the amputation. Lost in the memories, he remained silent for a moment. Then he groaned in anguish. “I saw the grenade first. I just stared at it. Oh, God!” He cried out and Adam couldn’t help but reach for his hand, which Damián grabbed onto with a death grip. “I just f*cking stared. I looked at the others. They didn’t see it! But I couldn’t move for like a minute.”

“Just seemed like a minute. Grenades go off in seconds. You’ve just slowed the motion down in your head.” Adam sure could relate to that. He’d had those same slow-motion memories from the ambush in Kandahar. Watching and not being able to protect or save his men.

Damián stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. “By the time I screamed for them to take cover, there wasn’t enough time. Grant was talking with Wilson. She didn’t f*cking know. I nudged Sarge and we both moved at the same time. I thought he’d moved fast enough, but I didn’t make sure. I went after the others. When I turned back, Sarge was right behind me, but too close to…” His body stiffened and he squeezed his eyes shut, as though feeling the impact of the explosion again.

Damián pulled his hand away and hugged himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Adam couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled him up to sit, wrapped his arms around him, and held him tightly. The kid began shaking harder, as if in shock.

*

Smothered. Even though he wasn’t lying down, he still felt the crushing weight against his chest. Sarge. He struggled to get the body off him.

“It’s me. Adam. You’re safe, Damián.”

Not Sarge. Adam.

“You did everything you could. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh, God. I tried. I f*cking tried. I couldn’t…” He wrapped his arms around Adam and held onto the man who had become his lifeline. Surprisingly, the smothering feeling receded a bit.