Page 29 of Challenged By the Ex-Military Lumberjack
"Yeah." Her expression softens. "I watched her die slowly. Cancer. There was nothing I could do except be there and watch it happen. And for a long time after, I kept thinking about all the things I should've done differently. All the ways I should've been better, should've helped more, should've… I don't know. Something."
"That's not the same."
"Isn't it? You lost people. I lost people. The circumstances are different, but the grief—" She shakes her head. "Grief is grief. And blame is blame. And neither one of them cares whether you deserve it or not."
I don't know what to say to that. Don't know how to respond to someone who seems to understand something I've never been able to explain.
"I'm not trying to fix you," she says quietly. "I know you don't want that. I'm just saying that you don't have to carry everything alone. Not if you don't want to."
"And if I do want to?"
"Then I'll respect that." She meets my eyes. "But the offer stands. Whenever you're ready. If you're ever ready."
There's no pressure in her voice. No expectation. Just an open door that she's leaving unlocked.
I should tell her to leave. Should make up some excuse about the road being clear enough, about needing to get back to work, about anything that gets her out of here before this goes any further.
But I don't.
Instead, I hear myself say, "I had eight men under my command. Last tour."
She goes very still. Doesn't say anything. Just listens.
"We were on a routine patrol. Routine." I let out a breath that feels like it's been trapped in my chest for years. "Except it wasn't. There was an IED. Buried in the road. Our lead vehicle hit it."
The fire crackles. Ridge shifts position. Jade doesn't move.
"I lost three men that day," I say. "Marcus, DeShawn, and Cooper. Good men. Better than me. They had families waiting for them. Kids. Futures."
"And you blame yourself," she says softly.
"I should've seen it. Should've known. That's my job: to keep them safe, to bring them home. And I didn't."
"It was an IED. Hidden. You couldn't have known."
"I should have."
"Eli—"
"I should have," I repeat, and there's an edge to my voice that makes Ridge lift his head. "That's what command means. Their lives were my responsibility, and I failed them."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she says, "How many men did you bring home?"
I look at her. "What?"
"You said you lost three. How many were under your command total?"
"Eight."
"So, you brought five men home safe."
"That's not—"
"Five men who got to see their families again because of you. Five men who are alive right now because you did your job."
"Three died."
"And five lived." She leans forward slightly. "I'm not saying the three don't matter. I'm not saying you shouldn't grieve them. But you can't only count the losses and ignore the wins. That's not fair to you, and it's not fair to the men who made it home because of you."
