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“It does matter. Because I can’t unknow it. And I shouldn’t. I need to remember. I need to remember. Who I was. Who I am. At the end of all things. Who Ifuckingam.”

“You’re a man who left part of his heart in Afghanistan. Because not all your men came home. That’s who you are.”

She walked ahead of him, and he was left speechless.

“How do you know that?”

She turned to face him. “Because I know you. Because I know this isn’t about just physical pain. As awful as I know it was. And as real as I know all the injuries that you sustained were. They were your men. Like you said. Why wouldn’t that change you?”

He stopped there and looked up at the sky. This familiar sky that he’d been a boy under, a golden hero under.

And he wanted answers now, but as ever, it was silent. It had been ever since that bomb had gone off.

He lost his connection to everything that day.

“Eight men lost their lives that day.” He very slowly said all their names. Their ages. “And I didn’t get to call their families. Because I was laid up in the hospital. It was my responsibility. Because they were my responsibility. All I thought about was glory. Glory on the other side. Fuck that. I watched twenty-year-old boys... They were there one minute. They were gone the next. Just gone. It’s such a merciless way to go. You can’t even say a proper goodbye. Their bodies don’t come back, because there’s nothing there. Fuck.”

He watched her. Watched her pallor change.

He was supposed to protect her from this. His father-in-law had told him that. It was his job. Protect the civilians from the horrors of war. And listen to him now. He had thought he wasn’t going to burden her with this, and here he was burdening the hell out of her. Great job. Great fucking job.

But she didn’t turn away from him. Instead, she took a step toward him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, conforming herself to him. And she held on to him tight.

“I think we need to change the idea of what a legend is,” she said softly. “It’s not always the guy who has it all together. Sometimes it’s the guy that bears every loss, every burden. Every responsibility. With the deepest, clearest pain. The guy whowantedto make the call. No matter how much it hurt. Sometimes that’s it.”

Her words were a balm for a wound he hadn’t imagined he carried.

“I shouldn’t have said all that to you.”

“Why not? You saw it.”

“Rory, you were a virgin until two days ago. You’ve lived here all your life. You’ve never had to see anything horrible. You’ve never... Shit, honey. I’ve taken all this stuff from you.”

She frowned. “You haven’t taken anything from me. You’re giving me something. You’re treating me like I’m strong enough to bear this. You’re treating me like an equal. How is that hurting me? I asked. Because I want to know. Because I want to be part of your life.”

He could see the moment she heard what she’d said. She looked down. “I mean, we’ll keep in touch after I leave.”

“Yeah. We will,” he said.

He didn’t think they would.

Because there was no way she would be able to keep one foot here and one foot in Boston to quite that degree. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to do it. This thing between them had become all-consuming in a matter of a week. How the hell was it going to work for them to stay in touch? Like they were friends. He supposed that was the game. That they were friends.

“When will you actually get to move in?”

“Right about the time you leave.”

“Right.”

She looked away, and he felt something tear in his chest. “You want to come see the obstacle course?”

“Yeah. I think I might want to try to climb the rope again.”

“Have you been doing push-ups?”

“Is sex exercise?”

He laughed.