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“I hate it!” I burst out. “I don’t want to feel like this. Sorry for myself and angry. I’m so angry all the time…”

“At yourself?”

“At myself, at Creek and Bean for being so goddamn happy, at Nash for always having his shit together, at the asshole who caused the accident, at everyone. The whole word pisses me off.” Then, I reconsidered. “Not you. I’m not upset with you. I didn’t mean to imply that?—”

“I didn’t take it that way. Don’t worry about it.”

“I hate being angry. I don’t want to be that person, the veteran who is bitter for the rest of his life because of something that happened. That can’t be me.”

“You won’t be. You’ll find a way through this.”

Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Dayton was giving me space to process, to continue if I wanted to. That was one of the things I loved about him. He knew when to push and when to just listen.

Loved. Fuck.

“I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you,” I whispered. “This was supposed to be casual. Fun. Exploring. But you… You’re the only one who gets it. The only one who understands. And I can’t… I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t be a burden to you too. I’m already one to Nash, to everyone else. I won’t do that to you.”

“Tam…” His voice was gentle but firm. “You’re not a burden. To anyone. And especially not to me.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Right. The guy who can’t sleep, can’t hear, can’t figure out his life, can’t get his shit together. Sleepless, jobless, and if this continues, probably homeless soon. What’s not to love?”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Something in his voice made me catch my breath. “You’re brave. Resilient. Kind. Funny. Smart. Should I go on?”

“Stop.”

“No. You need to hear this. You’re not broken, Tameron. You’re adapting. And yeah, it’s hard and it sucks and it’s not fair. But you’re doing it. You’re learning ASL. You’re working on cars with Dax. You’re making progress, even if you can’t see it right now.”

Tears burned in my eyes. “I’m so tired, Day.”

“I know, baby. I know.” His voice was impossibly gentle.

“Thank you for listening.”

“Don’t ever thank me for that.” He hesitated, emotions flashing over that expressive face. “I don’t know how to ask this, Tam, but I have to. Are you okay? Do I need to worry about you?”

It took me a few seconds to realize what he meant, and warmth flooded my chest. No, I wasn’t suicidal, but the fact that he asked, that he took me so seriously, brought tears to my eyes all over again. “I don’t want to kill myself.”

He blew out a breath. “I had to ask.”

“Yeah, and I’m grateful you did.”

“Still, let me come get you.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “No. You need your sleep. You have a shift later.”

“I don’t like you being out there alone.”

“I’m fine. I just… I needed some air.”

“Okay. But text me when you get home? Please?”

“I will.” I hesitated, then added, “Thank you. For listening. For understanding.”

“Always.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I sat there for a while longer, watching the lights of the bridge shimmer on the water. The talk with Dayton had helped a little. My chest felt less tight, like I could breathe again.

But it wouldn’t last. These feelings, these fears, would come back. They always did. And I couldn’t keep running to Dayton every time that happened. We were supposed to be casual. Friends with benefits. Nothing more.

Even if my heart wanted more. Even if his gentleness and understanding made me yearn for something I couldn’t have. I was too much of a mess for a relationship. And Dayton… He deserved better than someone who was drowning.

With a deep sigh, I started the car. Time to go home and face another day of pretending I was fine.

When I walked in the door, it was barely five a.m., but Nash was in the kitchen, making breakfast. He took one look at me and gestured for me to take a seat. “I’ll make you some eggs.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

No, he never was. Resigning myself to my fate, I plopped down on a chair. The fact that Nash didn’t tell me to wash my hands was not a good omen. It meant he knew something was going on, something bad enough that he was giving me a break. How did I get him off my back?

I watched him confidently move around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and tools with practiced ease.

Nash had always been like that—efficient and purposeful in his movements, no wasted energy.

It was part of what had made him such a great soldier and capable leader, and now it translated perfectly into his new role as an EMT.

Even something as simple as making breakfast became a carefully orchestrated operation.

The familiarity of it all made my chest ache.

How many mornings had I watched him do this exact same thing?

Making enough food to feed an army because that’s what we were, his little army of broken soldiers that he’d taken under his wing.

Soon, there would be two fewer mouths to feed.

The thought made my throat tight. Change was coming, whether I was ready for it or not.

He looked good though, more relaxed than I’d seen him in ages.

The EMT work suited him, gave him purpose again.

Unlike me, Nash had found his place in the civilian world.

He’d rebuilt himself into something new while still maintaining his core identity.

I envied that about him, his ability to adapt and thrive no matter what life threw at him.

He plated a generous helping of eggs and some bacon, then put it in front of me. “Talk.”

“Nothing to say. I went for a drive.”

“At three in the morning?” He quirked an eyebrow. “After spending the night at Dayton’s?”

I stabbed a piece of bacon with my fork. “How did you know I was at Dayton’s?”

“Because I’m not an idiot. Plus, he texted me to make sure you got home okay.”

Warmth flooded my chest. Of course he had. Because that was who Dayton was—caring, considerate, always putting others first. “I’m fine.”

“You’re many things, but fine isn’t one of them.” Nash sat across from me with his own plate of food. “Something’s eating at you. Has been for a while.”

I shrugged, pushing the eggs around my plate.

“Is it Bean and Creek moving out?”

My fork clattered against the plate. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I know you. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the way that went down. I know you wanted to tell them about you being bi, and that got completely overshadowed by their announcements. That one’s on me. I should’ve managed that better.”

I snorted, though part of me did feel better that he’d acknowledged it. “It’s not your responsibility anymore to manage us, you know?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. It’s not.”

“That’s not how I see it, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is you and the fact that you’re struggling with the changes.”

I was so not meeting those inquisitive eyes right now. “I’m happy for them.”

“You can be happy for them and still be sad or even angry about them leaving. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

I blew out a long breath. “When did you get so wise?”

“I’ve always been wise. You just never listened.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “Talk to me. Please.”

And for the second time, I did. I talked. “Everyone’s moving on. They’re finding their place, their purpose, and I’m… I’m still stuck. Still lost. Still broken.”

“You’re not broken.”

“No? I beg to differ since there’s a lot in my body and head that’s not functioning the way it’s supposed to.”

“Not functioning the way it’s supposed to, maybe,” Nash said. “But that doesn’t mean broken. Different isn’t the same as broken.”

“You sound like Dayton.”

Nash’s lips quirked. “He’s a smart man.”

I dragged a hand through my hair. “Yeah, he is. And kind. And patient. And I’m…” I gestured at myself. “This.”

“And what exactly is ‘this?’”

“A mess. Lost. Drowning.” I met his eyes. “You know what my latest audiogram showed.”

He nodded slowly. “That your left ear is deteriorating faster.”

“Which means I’ll lose what little balance I have left. I already have vertigo spells multiple times a day. How am I supposed to work like this? Be independent? Not be a burden to everyone around me?”

“Is that what you think you are? A burden?”

“What else would you call it?”

Nash’s expression hardened. “I’d call it being family.

Being there for each other. Like you were there for me when I had nightmares so bad I couldn’t sleep for days.

Like you were there for Creek when he first got his prosthetic and kept falling.

Like you were there for Bean when he couldn’t remember his own name. ”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because…” I struggled to find the words. “Because they got better. They improved. This?” I gestured at my ears. “This only gets worse.”

“So?”

“So I don’t want to be that guy. The one everyone has to accommodate. The one who needs help all the time.”

Nash leaned forward. “Like we accommodated Creek’s leg and Bean’s memory issues? Like how you all work around my PTSD and control issues?”

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again.

“We’re all broken in some way,” Nash continued. “We all need help. That’s what family is for. To be there for each other.”

“But Bean and Creek are leaving.”

“They’re moving out,” Nash corrected. “Not leaving. There’s a difference. They’ll still be around. We’ll still have family dinners and movie nights. They’re just…spreading their wings a little.”

“But it won’t be the same.” My voice cracked. “Everything is changing.”

“Of course it’s changing. That’s what life does. But different doesn’t mean worse.”

“You sound like Dayton again.”

Nash’s lips twitched. “Maybe because we’re both right.” He studied me for a moment. “Speaking of Dayton… What’s going on there?”

I stabbed another piece of bacon. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s casual. Exploring.”

Nash quirked an eyebrow. “Is it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like a lot more than that.”

“It can’t be.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended.

“Why not?”

“Because…” I gestured helplessly. “Because I’m a mess. Because I can barely handle my own life right now. Because he deserves better than someone who’s drowning.”

“Have you asked him what he wants?”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because what if he wants more?” The words burst out of me. “What if he wants a real relationship? I can’t… I can’t give him that. Not now. Not like this.”

Nash’s expression softened. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not ready. I’m still figuring out who I am, what I want, where I belong. I can’t drag him into that mess.”

“Maybe he wants to be dragged in.”

I buried my face in my hands. “He deserves better.”

“That’s not your decision to make.” Nash’s voice was gentle but firm. “You don’t get to decide what he deserves or wants. That’s his choice.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’re doing that thing again, where you make decisions for other people because you think you know what’s best for them. For the record, you don’t. You have to learn to let others in, to allow them to help you.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered. “You’ve got your shit together. New job you love, making new friends…”

“You think I’m not scared shitless?” Nash’s voice was sharp. “You think I’m not terrified that I’m gonna fuck this up? That I’ll lose you guys now that you don’t need me anymore?”

That made me look up. “What?”

“You heard me.” Nash dragged a hand through his hair. “I built my whole identity around taking care of you guys. What happens when you all move on? When you don’t need me anymore?”

“We’ll always need you.”

“Will you? Bean’s getting married. Creek’s moving in with Heath. And you…” He hesitated. “You’ve got Dayton now.”

“I don’t have Dayton,” I protested. “We’re just…”

“I swear to all that’s holy, if you say ‘just friends’ one more time, I will kick your ass.”

It was hard to be angry with him when he’d bared his soul to me. “Is that really what you’re afraid of? Losing us?”

“More than anything else.”

I’d never considered that, never realized that the dependence we had, for lack of a better word, went both ways. “I hope you know how much we appreciate you. Love you. How much I love you.”

Jesus, I damn near choked up there at the end, saying those words that should be so simple yet were so hard to get out.

“On my good days, I know. But on my bad days, on days like you’re having right now, it’s mighty easy to lose sight of that.

To focus on what I’ve lost instead of what I’ve gained.

On what could’ve been instead of what is and will be.

On the past instead of the present and the future.

” He reached over the table and put his hand on mine in an uncharacteristically sappy gesture.

“And I love you too, Tameron. Which is why I’m telling you that you can do this.

You can get through this. But you can’t do it alone…

and you don’t have to. We’re here. Creek, Bean, Dayton, me. We’re here. Lean on us. Please.”