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“You know what it means.” That’s all he says before silence falls between us again. He stands there for so long, just looking at me, that I start to wonder if he’s going to say anything else. Finally, he does. “He stepped on an IED, Grace. The majority of the blast was absorbed by the lower half of his body. Most of his lower body suffered second and third-degree burns. He almost lost his leg—would’ve if I wasn’t such a stubborn asshole.” His jaw does a fast clench and he cocks his head. “There was damage to his reproductive organs that required multiple surgeries to repair—and those are just the injuries we can see.”
Listening to Conner list Ryan’s injuries makes me lightheaded. Nauseous, like I’m going to throw up. Not because I’m revolted or sickened by the picture he’s painting me but because I keep thinking about Ryan in a hospital bed. Tubes and needles. Pain and blood.
“But he’s okay now, right?” I whisper it and my heart breaks a little with Conner shakes his head at me.
“No, Grace.” He sighs, lifting a hand to rub a rough hand over the back of his head. “He’s not.”
His admission makes me angry. Not at Ryan for being incapable of giving me what I want or even at myself for wanting them. It makes me angry at him for pushing something he knew would never work. Never happen. “Then why would you—”
“I pushed him to ask you out because I think it would be good for him—because he’s so focused on all the ways his injuries have changed him that he can’t let himself remember that no matter what was taken, that there’s still a lot of… Ryan left.” He takes a step toward me, setting his half-empty beer bottle on the table next to mine. “He doesn’t remember how to be himself and I’m hoping that spending time with you will remind him.” He says it like I’m a spring lamb, being led to slaughter. Like I’m being offered up as some sort of sacrifice and he doesn’t even feel particularly bad about it. “And if he’s telling you to run, I’d say it’s working.”
“What do I do?” I ask, even though every cell and fiber in my body is telling me what I should do. To take the chance to bolt while I still have it.
To take Ryan at his word and run while I still can.
“That’s up to you.” He says it gravely, like he knows I’ve already made up my mind. Like he knows exactly what happens next.