Men walked in sync, eyes open, taking in everything around them. Bryce watched the trees sway gently in the tiny breeze, looking for a sign of anything amiss.
Everyone thinks it’s all sand and heat in Afghanistan, they couldn’t be more wrong. There was plenty of sand, sure, but there were mountains and grass. Trees and brush—shit that could mask an enemy. But today, it was silent, clear, as they walked through the valley.
They reached their mark, without incident, confident it was all clear and turned back. They’d be back to their vehicles and back to base in no time.
Bryce let his mind slip to Lacey as he brought up the rear. It had been seventeen days since he saw her face, heard her voice. He longed to call her, but they were under restrictions and currently couldn’t make outside contact. Shit was going down and they needed to be on their toes. He understood, but he’d have given his left nut to reach out to her.
Shaking his head, he scanned the area again. Listened as the rest of the crew chatted and cracked jokes. Obviously relaxed about this order for the day.
He called out a reminder to stay vigilant as they walked on.
Three miles before they reached their Humvee, there was a loud explosion. The ground trembled; shrieks sliced through his ears, and then all hell broke loose around him.
“RPG!” one of his men shouted as they scrambled for cover.
Bryce hit the ground behind a rock, barely registering the pain as something tore through the flesh in his abdomen. Gunfire rang out. They were pinned down, but they wouldn’t be going down without a fight.
He was ready; his weapon set on the target. Finger on the trigger, enemy in his sight. Before he could get the shot off, pain ripped through his right shoulder, throwing him back a few feet. He landed with a thud as his head slammed against another boulder.
“Matheson! Fuck! No! Shit!” Staff Sergeant Reed shouted, running to his side. “I got a man down. Sergeant Matheson is hit. We need support. They’ve got us pinned down.” He barked into the radio.
Noise. Chaos. Shouts.
He could smell gunpowder around him. His arm felt wet and warm. His stomach did too. The rest of his body felt cold. Why was it so damn cold? He’d been sweating before; now he could feel his teeth chatter.
Why couldn’t he focus on anything? Everything felt fuzzy.
Where was he?
How much time had passed?
“Don’t you fucking die on me, Sarg. I fucking mean it!” Reed commanded as he helped the medic get Bryce on the Apache. “Don’t you fucking die.”
He faded in and out, wishing like hell he could make sense of whatever was going on around him.
More shots.
Explosions.
The chopper.
Something poked his skin again; his body warmed.
And then his world went black.
…
…..
……..
………..
……..
…..
…
Silence.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
Silence.
He felt like he was floating, watching the scene unfold from the corner of the room.
“Charge to 120! Clear!”
His body jolted with the shock.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
“Again! Clear!”
Another jolt.
Silence.
…
…..
……..
………..
……..
…..
…
“Doctor, we’ve got a pulse.”
A steady beep started again. The blood pressure on the monitor began to rise slowly.
“Sergeant Matheson,” the doctor ordered. Nothing. “Matheson. If you can hear me, I need you to blink,” the doctor called out again.
His eyes were open, his pupils responding. But his body lay unresponsive.
He felt like he was floating, watching a movie play out before him. There was blood everywhere. Why wasn’t his body moving at the doctor’s command?
Not even a twitch or flicker as he looked on.
What the fuck had happened to him? Wasn’t he just out in the field with his men? Why was he here now, watching some unlucky fucker dying on the table? Surely the doctor had it all wrong; that wasn’t him lying on the table. It couldn’t be.
Prayer For a Friend—Casting Crowns
The back door to the bar slammed shut behind her as Lacey raced into the bar on Friday night. One of the other bartenders called out and Tyler had called to see if she could fill in. Lacey jumped at the chance to do anything to take her mind off Bryce.
Things were already in full swing when she arrived.
She was right in the middle of pouring a beer for a customer when someone new slid on to the stool directly in front of her. As she looked up to greet the new patron, the glass she was pouring into nearly slipped from her hand. Beer sloshed down the side of the glass, covering her hand, as she saw the look on his face. Her heart caught in her throat and began to pound rapidly. Cursing, she sat the glass down and grabbed some napkins to clean up the mess she’d created.
With her customer served, she wiped her hands on the bar towel hanging from her pocket before acknowledging Connor. “Please tell me he’s ok.” Her voice cracked.
“Somewhere we can talk?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lacey nodded. “Ty, I need a minute,” she called over her shoulder to Tyler, who was working the other end of the bar. Connor followed her down the hallway and into the tiny office. She wrapped her arms around herself, preparing for whatever Connor was about to say. “Just tell me.”
“He’s alive.”
A deep breath left Lacey as she sighed in partial relief. “How bad is it?”
“They’re flying him home.”
“But he’s alive?”
“He’s alive. They said he was stable, but sedated. He had surgery on his shoulder in Germany, and he suffered a concussion. They won’t know a whole lot more until he’s here and they assess him further. Listen, I wasn’t sure if I should have come here or not, but when Bryce brought you to my house, it was clear you meant something to him. I, umm, I thought you’d want to know.”
Lacey sunk down into one of the office chairs, leaning her head against the wall, fighting back tears. “He means something to me too…will I be able to see him?”
“I’ll add you to his whitelist; you’ll have to show ID at the gates because it’s on base. I can take you there the first time to see him, if you want. I know you don’t know me all that well, but Bryce is family – so, by default, you are too.”
Lacey choked back a sob as Tyler opened the door and poked his head in. “Lacey? You ok?”
“Bryce; he’s been injured. They’re flying him home.” Tears rolled down her face as Tyler rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms.
“We’ll work it out, Lacey. You do what you need to do. Clock out and get out of here. Check in and let me know how he is?”
Lacey sniffled against his chest. “I can’t lose him.”
“Hey, he said he’s alive. Focus on that, Lace.” Tyler rubbed her shoulders.
He promised! Dammit, he promised that he’d come back to her! She didn’t mean not in one piece! Anger ripped through her. She was mad at Bryce for leaving, mad at the Army for calling him away, and mad at whoever had done damage to her heart.
“It’ll be a few hours. Maybe close to another five at least, before he gets here. They’re supposed to call and let me know when he’s made it to Walter Reed,” Connor spoke up.
What the fuck was she supposed to do? All she was left with was more questions and not enough answers. The only thing she could do was move forward.
“I think I need a minute.” Her voice wavered.
Both men nodded and left her alone in silence while she tried to pull herself together. Once she felt strong enough to move, she found Connor and had him follow
her back to her house, where she packed up a bag of essentials.
The two-and-a-half-hour trip to Walter Reed was filled with awkward silence and occasional bursts of forced conversation. Lacey thanked Connor a dozen times for coming for her, all while silently wishing he had never shown up. Because if he hadn’t, that would mean this had never happened.
But it happened.
Brave—Sarah Bareilles
His face was bruised and swollen, a bandage wrapped around his head, and another covering his right shoulder; his arm in a sling. His legs were covered with blankets, but it looked like he may have a cast on his left leg as well. He had a cannula in his nose, giving him supplemental oxygen. But he was alive.
Her strong man suddenly looked frail and small, laying in a hospital bed.
Still out of it when they arrived, it gave Lacey time to absorb it all. To take it all in and breathe. Seeing him for the first time, she could let go of the breath she’d been holding since Connor gave her the news.
“What are you doing here?” Bryce whispered, his eyes fluttering around the room. “It’s not safe. You need to leave.” His voice grew louder as he became more agitated. “Get out! You can’t be here!”
What the hell was going on? What was he talking about?
Bryce continued his fit, insisting that she leave, as a nurse came rushing in with a syringe full of medicine and tried to calm him down. She couldn’t take it anymore. Her heart was shattering in a million pieces. Instead of causing Bryce more strife, she turned and walked out. She didn’t miss out on the fact that he calmed down the minute he realized she’d left the room.
“TBI.” Connor’s voice caught her attention as she stepped inside the waiting room. “They said it’s not uncommon for them to wake up out of sorts, confused and combative. I didn’t have time to warn you when I heard him going off.”
Lacey huffed. “Sucks.”
“It does. I’m sure he’ll chew my ass out too, soon enough.” He was the lucky one. Connor was meeting with the doctor for a full report while she was with Bryce. He got to miss out on the outburst.
“Maybe I should go? Maybe I really shouldn’t be here? I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing, and it’s obvious that having me here only upsets him more.”
Connor shook his head. “Don’t run off. Stick around for a little bit longer. Let me see what else I can find out, and at least give you an update before you decide to go.”
She wanted to refuse, but something in his voice told her that she needed to stay. That, and the fact that she had no real way home without Connor.
So, staying is what she did.
For another two whole days, Lacey stayed in Bethesda. It had taken that long for the medical team to get Bryce to understand where he was, and later, what had happened to him. For two days, she hadn’t been able to visit, no matter how much she wanted to. When she tried, he would only become agitated and insist she needed to leave, again.
Now though, she needed to return home – Connor needed to get back to his wife and kids, and he didn’t want to leave her with no transportation. She had a job she needed to get back to, too. With every ounce of resolve she had left in her, she made her way to Bryce’s room and hoped that today, he’d be in a better mood.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he tried to reassure her as she hesitantly shuffled inside his room.
His face was still bruised, bandages remained on one side of his forehead. His beaming baby blue eyes no longer sparkled. Lacey wiped a lone tear from her face. “Oh good, because, for a minute there, I thought you might have a few broken bones and some bumps and bruises.”
Bryce tried to laugh then winced in pain. “Ok, laughing is off the table. Maybe I’ve got a broken rib or two.” He paused. “You kept coming back.”
“Because I care.”
“You should go home.”
“I am. Today. I need to get back to work. For a few days, at least.”
“You shouldn’t come back.”
Her eyes widened and she recoiled as if she’d just been slapped. “Bryce, I…”
“Don’t come back, Lacey.” His voice deepened.
Don’t argue with him, she reminded herself again and again, but she couldn’t stay silent. “Are you upset that I’m leaving? Is that why you don’t want me to come back?”
“No. I don’t want you here. In this place. I want you to go home and stay there. It’s that simple.” His words were calloused and cold. “Go home and pretend that I’m not here. Do whatever you have to do to forget me. Just…go.”
She was going to be sick, she was sure of it. He was pushing her away. Asking her to do the impossible. How could she forget him? He had quickly become her everything and until now, she was certain he felt the same. It didn’t matter how many times they warned her he wasn’t himself. It was the brain injury talking; the PTSD. He went from joking with her to pushing her away again. None of that seemed to matter when he told her to forget him.
“I can’t forget you,” she whispered.
“Look at me, Lacey. Why the fuck would you want to be with me? I’m a gimp. A fucked-up half of a man.”
“Is that what you think?” she gasped. “Because that’s not what I see. I see the same strong man who told me he loved me, and promised he was coming home. I can see past the bumps and bruises. I still see you. For Christ’s sake, Bryce, it’s been days. Mere days. You almost died. You’re not going to suddenly bounce back overnight. But you’re alive, and that’s a start.”
“I should be dead. Wish I was.”
“You can’t mean that,” Lacey whimpered, swiping at the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“I do. I can’t fucking walk. Can’t feed myself or wipe my own ass. Might as well be dead.”
“All of that is temporary!” She spent plenty of time sulking and researching everything Connor told her about Bryce’s condition. It would be months of therapy, but most of it would be temporary. He may even be able to return to full duty. It was too soon to tell, but the possibility was there.
“You’ve got enough on your plate. You don’t need to be taking care of an invalid too.”
Lacey snapped. “You’re a fucking asshole, Bryce Matheson. An asshole. Even still, I love you. I’ve got to go home for a few days. But I’m not going to forget about you. I’m not going to stop loving you just because you got hurt. I’ll call every day and you better answer. You owe me that much for making me fall in love with you.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she turned on her heel and marched out, brushing shoulders with Connor at the door.
She heard Connor call him a jackass as she walked away.
Monster—Skillet
Rehab, Day 35
What he did, day in and day out; it never bothered him. He could handle it all. He’d killed people. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it was part of the job. Something that he knew he had to do. Many times, it was kill or be killed. His injury was proof of that.
Being fucked up by the enemy brought all that shit to the forefront of his mind. Fucked with him. Made him question everything. Including if he was man enough for Lacey.
Hell, when he first approached her, he knew damn well he wasn’t man enough. But it was supposed to only be a one-night stand.
They’d come a long way in such a short amount of time. He saw himself settling down. Retiring, raising a family. For a moment in time, he saw something more than the Army.
But duty called.
He’d reported for duty, got his ass blown up, and promptly pushed her away again.
After promising he’d come home to her, he pushed her away. Not because he didn’t love her. But because he loved her too much. Even if his memory was fucked up, and he was clueless as to what happened in Afghanistan, he knew he loved Lacey. He didn’t want her to feel like she needed to stick around when he was worthless. Nothing more than a lump of flesh laying in a hospital bed. One that had done unspeakable things to, sometimes innocent, people.<
br />
“Why don’t we start with you telling me what’s bothering you?”
Bryce huffed. “You mean, besides the fact that I still can’t get around on my own? How about the nightmares haunting me at night? Or better yet, the cries from one of my soldiers that tried to save my life.”
He’d been at Walter Reed for three weeks now, and two nights ago, one of his Specialists was admitted. Into the room next to his, at that. Jerry lost a limb, and had burns on his torso. At night, Bryce was subjected to his cries of pain, and the nightmares that were trying to kill them all.
He tried everything to shut it out, pushing himself to the extreme in therapy. Getting his ass chewed for not taking it slower. Crashing in bed at night with dreams; vivid dreams of gun shots. Terror raining down around him. Screams. Pain.
Fuck it all.
It didn’t matter what he tried, the dreams wouldn’t stop.
Waking in a cold sweat, his heart racing. Gathering his bearings. Reaching out, wishing Lacey was there.
His woman, miles away at home. Alone. Without him.
Crying out to God to save him. To make it all stop.
Just when he thought he could get past it, something would trigger the memories to come rushing back.
When he was sleeping, he woke to the sounds of Jerry’s voice, suffering the same torture he had been.
Mad. Angry. Pissed.
He wanted to hit something. To make the assholes pay for the damage they’d done to him. To his platoon.
“Fuck, I’ve tried everything to make the chaos in my head stop.”
His therapist peered over his glasses at him, leg crossed over his thigh, a note pad in his lap. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. Expecting too much, too soon. Eventually, you’re going to burn out.”
“Good, maybe then this will fucking stop.”
“Suicidal ideations?”
Bryce gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the tears. He wouldn’t fucking cry. There was no way. “No. I don’t want to die. I just want it to stop,” he pleaded.
Come Back To Me Page 10