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His voice is weak. It tightens my throat.

He’s dying.

“Gray…”

“Danny!” I scream again, and again, the pain brings me to my knees. I’ve got to keep moving. I crawl forward, making it to standing.

I feel Warren’s hand on my leg, but this time I shake him off me. I’ve got to get to Danny. I don’t have time for a boy from Arkansas. My best friend, the guy who knows me about as good as anyone, the guy I promised to protect, is dying in the desert, millions of miles from home.

He’s my focus.

He should be my focus.

I stagger along the length of the truck, around the back corner.

“Lieutenant, you have a concussion. You could have brain swelling!” I push the medic away.

Danny’s voice is still calling me. It’s weaker, but I hear it.

“Gray…” It’s the last time he’ll call. I’ve been here before.

The bodies part, and there he is, lying on his back, his blond hair spread around him in the sand, hazel eyes staring at the sky.

I try to rush forward, but I fall and vomit again. The medic is at my arm, but I push him off me.

“Danny…” My voice grows louder until his name tears like claws through my throat. “Danny... Danny…”

I wake with a jerk, sitting straight up. I’m covered in sweat, my throat aches, and I’m lying on the floor in the living room.

The sun blasts through the blinds, and I’m disoriented.

It happened again.

Standing on shaky legs, I go to the kitchen where the bottle of meds sits, the PTSD medication. I’ve been trying to wean myself off it. I’ve been trying to follow the self-help steps.

Last night was a setback.

I came home, had a few stiff drinks, then collapsed on my uncle’s unmade bed with visions of Drew swirling in my brain. She was so beautiful standing there in the mist, tears in her gorgeous blue eyes. Her hair hung in those long waves I used to bury my face in and inhale deeply, taking in her scent and committing it to memory. The jeans she wore hugged her curves, and even though she wore a baggy sweater, I could tell her body was the same as I remembered, soft in the right places, molding to mine.

She was miserable. She was crying.

The pain of what I’ve done, of what’s become of me, had crashed down on my head, forcing up the walls, and pushing me away from her.

As I lay on the bed, waves of exhaustion rolled over me, forcing my eyes closed. It was a killer cocktail of grief mixed with anxiety mixed with regret. I’d known it would be this way since the day I decided to come back. Still, I had to do it.

I needed to see his grave. I needed to ask for forgiveness even though his ears would never hear it. I needed to come here so I could try to forgive myself.

I’d hated him for what he’d said that day. I’d hated him almost as much as I’d hated their father for saying it years before. I’d worked so hard to prove I was good enough, but he would never let me be.

Then Danny had shown he felt the same way.

Maybe I did want him to die for those few minutes.

I never believed it woul

d happen.

All that anger. All that hatred. Years and years of bad feelings pent up in my chest… Now it’s only emptiness.