Masters at Arms - By Kallypso Masters Page 0,62
stared at it. Oh, God!” He cried out and Adam couldn’t help but reach for his hand, which Damián grabbed onto with a death grip. “I just fucking stared. I looked at the others. They didn’t see it! But I couldn’t move for like a minute.”
“Just seemed like a minute. Grenades go off in seconds. You’ve just slowed the motion down in your head.” Adam sure could relate to that. He’d had those same slow-motion memories from the ambush in Kandahar. Watching and not being able to protect or save his men.
Damián stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. “By the time I screamed for them to take cover, there wasn’t enough time. Grant was talking with Wilson. She didn’t fucking know. I nudged Sarge and we both moved at the same time. I thought he’d moved fast enough, but I didn’t make sure. I went after the others. When I turned back, Sarge was right behind me, but too close to…” His body stiffened and he squeezed his eyes shut, as though feeling the impact of the explosion again.
Damián pulled his hand away and hugged himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Adam couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled him up to sit, wrapped his arms around him, and held him tightly. The kid began shaking harder, as if in shock.
* * *
Smothered. Even though he wasn’t lying down, he still felt the crushing weight against his chest. Sarge. He struggled to get the body off him.
“It’s me. Adam. You’re safe, Damián.”
Not Sarge. Adam.
“You did everything you could. It’s not your fault.”
“Oh, God. I tried. I fucking tried. I couldn’t…” He wrapped his arms around Adam and held onto the man who had become his lifeline. Surprisingly, the smothering feeling receded a bit.
“You did everything right. You couldn’t save everyone. No one could.”
“Why? Why’d he have to die? Why not me?”
Adam continued to just hold him, but Damián noticed that his former Top’s heart was pounding hard against his chest. When he spoke, Adam’s voice had become raspy. “That’s above my pay grade—and a question I’ve asked myself a million times, too. But you have to quit blaming yourself.”
Easier said than done.
“I will, if you will.” But Damián knew they’d both probably go to their graves asking themselves the same question.
Adam cleared his throat. “What you have to do is find something or someone that will make your surviving worthwhile. Find a cause that moves you. Find a woman who needs you. Just fucking find something you can do to make the world a better place for at least one other person.”
Damián held on tighter. He knew tears were falling onto Adam’s chest, but didn’t want to ease away and reveal the evidence. The man had been like a father to him the past six months, taking care of him day and night. Making sure he did his PT exercises. Forcing him to wear the god-damned prosthesis until finally it stopped rubbing his stump raw.
The man had had no fucking life as a result. Adam should have been enjoying retirement, not babysitting him. Why hadn’t he just left Damián in San Diego to finish off what the grenade had started? How could Damián ever repay him for the sacrifices he’d made?
Puckered skin? Damián’s hands rested against what felt like puckered skin on Adam’s back. What the fuck? He pulled back and felt Adam’s body go stiff.
Damián looked him in the eye. “Turn around.”
“You don’t give me orders, son.”
“What happened?”
“It was a long time ago. Kandahar. Ambush. I took some shrapnel to the back.”
While he rattled off the cold, hard facts in a non-emotional way, Damián knew from the pain reflected in Adam’s eyes that the man must have battled his own demons. From where Damián’s hands explored, half the man’s back must be riddled with shrapnel wounds. The master sergeant had been through just as much as Damián had.
How had he stayed so strong, so normal, so sane?
Was Damián his cause, to help him handle his own survivor guilt?
Maybe there was hope for Damián yet. He needed to quit feeling sorry for himself and find some worthwhile cause to dedicate himself to.
But what?
Section Five
The Masters at Arms Club
Three months ago
Adam would be glad to get this meeting over. Damián wanted to add live music to the club. They’d finally opened in 2008 and were doing well, so they could afford it. Adam just didn’t go in for most of that heavy-metal stuff Damián liked.
“Edgy?” Damián asked.
He looked at Damián and Marc