Page 153 of The Five Year Lie

“How’d that happen, anyway?” I ask. “He would never give me the details. Told me it wasn’t much of a story.”

Woody tips his head back and laughs so loudly that Buzz twitches in his sleep. “You are kidding me. That’s hilarious.”

“Why?”

He shakes his head, smiling. “He was directing a sweep—checking for mines in a Syrian neighborhood we’d just helped the locals retake. His K-9 guys are trying to clear this alley, but people are just pouring into this town. Total chaos, and we don’t have enough translators. There’s a kid, about that size.” He points at Buzz. “He’s walking into the alley at the far end. Jay tells him to stop, it’s not safe. And for God’s sake don’t go near that stack of crates on the wall. So what does the kid do?”

“Makes a beeline for the crates?” I guess.

He nods. “Kid couldn’t understand him. Jay runs down there as the kid picks up the first crate. Something starts to teeter—always a bad sign. That’s how you set a trap. Jay dives to push the kid back out of the alley, and then I hear the boom.” He shakes his head. “I got a nice piece of shrapnel lodged in my scalp.” He points at his head. “And Jay left his foot behind. But we made it out alive. We always do.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.” I swallow the giant lump in my throat. “Optimism doesn’t come naturally to me.”

He laughs again. “I heard that about you. But I also heard you come by it honestly.”

I’m dozing, my head heavy on my own shoulder, when Woody shakes me. “Hey, hey. Ariel, he’s asking for you.”

“What?” The fluorescent light burns into my eyes as I come swiftly to consciousness. “Can I see him?” I slur.

“Sure, honey.” The nurse beckons.

I look down at Buzz, who’s sleeping soundly.

“Go on,” Woody says. “I’ll stay.”

Still, I hesitate. After all Buzz has been through, I am afraid to walk away from him.

“I won’t move from this spot,” he says. “I promise.”

Dizzy from anxiety and sleep deprivation, I sway to my feet and follow the nurse through a set of double doors.

As she walks me into Jay’s room, I realize that his bed is actually visible from the windows in the waiting room. But I didn’t recognize him underneath all the tubes and machinery.

He’s very still, and his skin is a pasty color. When people sayhe looks like death, I’m pretty sure this is exactly what they mean.

“Five minutes,” the nurse says. “You can touch him. It’s okay.”

I take his hand, which is warm and dry. “Hey,” I whisper, my voice untrustworthy. “It’s me.”

When his blue eyes flip open and focus on me, the tight metal band inside my chest eases up just a little. “You okay?” His voice is shredded.

“Fine,” I rasp, trying to hold myself together.

“Buzz?”

“Fine,” I say more firmly. “Woody, too.”

His eyes close. “That was a close one. Too close.”

“I don’t know,” I say, trying for a joke. “You didn’t lose any limbs this time.”

“Too close toyou,” he says. “Unacceptable. What were you thinking? I drew him away from the house. You threw him a ladder.”

I put my elbows on the bed and lift his hand up to my face, just so I can feel his skin against mine. “It didn’t go exactly how I planned.”

“That happens...” He has to pause between words. “With us.”

“Yeah, it does.” I push my face into the warmth of his palm and sigh.