The bedroom door opens and I open my eyes, narrowing them as Stone cautiously pokes his head around the corner. Anger bubbles inside me like a volcano, ready to erupt.
“Hey, Shan,” he says softly, a sheepish smile on his handsome face. Somehow, that makes me even angrier. My hand reaches down and grabs the first thing I feel. It’s a lamp on the bedside table. I yank the cord out and throw it as hard as I can at the door, narrowly missing his head as he ducks back around the corner. “What the hell?” he shouts from his hiding place, but I’m in no mood for his shit.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I yell as he opens the door and cautiously steps into the room. Tears immediately start to pour down my cheeks, and I angrily dash them away.
“I don’t know,” he admits. But that’s not a good enough reason.
“You’re married!” I scream, not caring if anyone else hears me. “You’re fucking married.”
“I know,” he says, his features pinched.
“How could you not tell me you’re married?”
“I forgot, okay?” he yells. He sounds tired.
“You forgot?” I laugh in a strange, high-pitched voice. “What the hell do you mean, you forgot? I suppose you forgot you had a son, too.”
“I didn’t know about him,” Stone says, holding his hands out helplessly.
“How convenient,” I snort.
“Look,” he starts, sitting on the edge of the bed. I cross my arms and turn my head away. I can’t even look at him right now. “Listen to me,” he says. “I was barely married before I enlisted in the Army. My daddy served, and his daddy before him. It’s in my blood. But Grace didn’t see it that way. She gave me an ultimatum: The Army or her.”
I don’t look at him, but I’m listening.
“I tried to curb my desire for battle.” I see him stand out of the corner of my eye, start pacing back and forth across the room. “For a while it worked,” he continues. “I was a doting husband and a hard worker. But then the World Trade Center was attacked. That morning, I was too far away to help, but I saw it. I sat glued to the TV, my hands clenched into fists by my sides, my blood boiling. I’m a proud American, damnit; I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while innocent people were being killed right in front of me.”
My heart aches as I remember that day so vividly. Troy was passed out on the floor as I sat on the couch, my knees pulled up to my chest as day-old mascara streaked across my cheeks, cutting through the tears as I watched the men and women jumping out of the burning buildings to escape the hot flames . . . only to be greeted by the cold, hard pavement below. For the rest of my life, I will never forget the sight of that one falling man. The one who has never been officially identified, but who became a beacon of peace among the chaos. The man who’d accepted his fate, almost greeting death like an old friend.
I finally turn my head toward him, watching as he continues to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. “I packed my bag that same morning,” Stone continues. “Grace begged me not to go, told me she’d divorce me if I left. But how could I stay? My country, my men, they needed me more than she did. So I did what I had to do.” He pauses his pacing and stands facing me, his eyes glazed over with sorrow. “I left,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “I left my wife and the son I didn’t know she was carrying. My son. Two months later, I got the notice of intent to divorce. In my pain, I tore it up and vowed to never think of it again. When I was injured they looked for her, but she never responded to their messages. Then when I came back this time I was so fucking messed up that I just started drinking, and I’ve never stopped. I didn’t hear from Grace until yesterday, I think she just wanted to forget I existed. I knew I’d hurt her, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I had no idea she was fighting cancer.”
My heart is breaking for him. Tears fill my eyes, making him appear blurred. I blindly reach out my hand for him, offering him a small amount of comfort. But I’m the one who receives the comfort when he accepts my hand and sits beside me on the edge of the bed. We say nothing, just sit, our hands clasped tightly together as we are both lost in our memories. Eventually, he places my hand gently back down on the bed and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
I wipe my eyes and lean my head back against the headboard, but the tears won’t stop falling. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest, stomped on and pushed through a meat grinder. It hurts so fucking bad. I can’t begin to imagine Stone’s pain . . . the pain of losing his wife, finding out she kept a son from him for fourteen years. I have so many questions, like why didn’t she tell him about Zeke? Why was she so against him joining the Army? I know in my heart I’ll never get the answers to these questions, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I want to hate Grace. How dare she keep Zeke away from his father! My breath catches on a small sob as my tears finally slow then stop. I’m exhausted all over again. I can’t hate Grace, as much as I want to. Yes, she did the wrong thing, but she did it for the right reason — to protect her child. Wouldn’t I have done the same? I have to get out of here. I need time to think. Summoning my strength, I call out to Stone. But there’s no answer. I huff angrily and blow the hair out of my face. As I glance down, my hand brushes against a piece of paper I hadn’t noticed before, sitting next to me on the bed. I pick it up and unfold it, my eyes widening as I read:
Shan,
I know you won’t like this, and to be honest, I’m too gutless to tell you to your face. Last night, you took a pretty bad fall, and your leg is pretty badly damaged.
The doctor says you’ll be fine, but you’ll be unable to walk properly for the next 6-8 weeks. Sucks, I know.
Don’t worry about Saddles. You’ll be able to get back to it as soon as you’ve learned to use crutches. Ruth, Keets and I will run the front for you.
There’s something else. The doctor said you’ll need help with everyday activities like bathing. So you’re staying with me until the bandage comes off.
Please don’t argue with me on this. You have no idea how terrified I was, seeing you lying in the rain unconscious like that.
I’ll send Zeke in with some food for you soon. Don’t try to get out of bed. I know how stubborn you are, but just don’t, ok? I’ll be back as soon as I can.
Stone
I snort and suppress a short bark of laughter at his note. Me, stay here with him? He’s crazy! Of course I can look after myself. I’ve never needed anyone before but myself, and that’s not about to change just because of a stupid injured leg.
I call out to Zeke, looking at the door expectantly. It doesn’t open. I call out again and again, until my throat is dry and hoarse. Where the hell is that kid? I sigh and glance down. My eyes widen when I see a wheelchair positioned next to me. Surely that can’t be a coincidence? Zeke must be out, must have left it there for me so I could get out of here. I must remember to give him an extra-large strawberry shake and fries the next time he’s in Saddles. I carefully ease the blankets back and swing both legs over the side of the bed. I grip one handle of the wheelchair and pull myself up from the bed, grinning in triumph.
Pity the brakes aren’t on.