“Of course I did.” Dad rolled his eyes and shuffled toward the stairs. He looked weaker than ever. Same gray hair. Same blue eyes. But so much f**king older. “I have a bad heart, not a bad stomach.”
I forced a laugh. “That’s true. You were never one to skip a meal.”
“And I never will,” he said, laughing along with me.
As soon as he turned around, the smile on my face disappeared. I stopped at Carrie’s side and leaned down until my mouth was a whisper away from her ear. “We’ll talk later.”
She caught my hand. “Take it easy on him. He’s worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about him.” I watched him climb the stairs, one slow step at a time. The pain pills finally kicked in, giving Dad a weird shimmery haze around him. Almost like an aura—or what I guessed an aura looked like. Fuck if I actually knew. “I just want to know all the details. Then I’ll let him sleep.”
“Okay.” She rose up on tiptoe and kissed me. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“The sun is finally shining,” she said softly.
I tensed. “Yeah, it is,” I managed to say through my swollen throat.
Not because it made me happy, but because it made her happy. Those words used to mean so much to me when she said that, but now it brought back memories of men dying. Of Dotter’s blood squirting all over my face and in my mouth. It meant something completely different to her—and it sucked that was the case now.
Fuck, I wished…
I wished we could go back.
We made it into his room, and I switched the light on. I hadn’t been in his room since we got here. I’d been so absorbed in what I’d been dealing with that I totally missed all the signs. That’s the kind of man I’d become. A whole shitload of orange pill bottles sat by his bed. I walked up to them and ran my fingers over the lineup. “You should have told me.”
“What good would it have done? When it’s our time to die, it’s our time. There’s nothing you or anyone can do to stop it.”
I threw the covers back off his bed. “Lay down.”
“I will.” He scratched his head. His half-bald head. When had that happened? He’s always seemed so strong. Ageless. Now, as I thought it over, I realized he was over fifty. Too young to die, but old enough to be way too f**king close to it. “There’s nothing you can do to stop time from moving on. Nothing you can do to change the past.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah. No kidding. I learned that up close and personal. One might even say I had a front row seat.”
“I know, and I’m sorry you did.” He ran his hands over his hair. “I wish I could change that. Wish I could take it all away.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t change what already happened.”
I opened his dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. They were blue and had stripes on them. They’d been his present from me last year for Christmas. That seemed as if it was a lifetime ago, not only one year. It had been before I met Carrie. Before I learned what love really was. Before I’d watched my whole unit die and then lived to tell about it.
A hell of a lot could happen in a year.
“No, but we can change how it affects us.” Dad pulled his sweater over his head, and I handed him the pajama top. “You’re pushing her away.”
“I know. I can’t help it.” I picked up the pants and held them out as Dad shrugged into his shirt. “I keep saying I’ll stop. Keep waking up with the best intentions. But then I f**k up and I still push her away.”
“You have to stop hurting her. Have you talked to her about it?”
I hesitated. “We haven’t really talked much at all.”
“Because you’re pushing her away.”
“Yes.” I crumpled his pants in my hand. “Sometimes I think she would be better off without me.”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t be. She’d live. She’d laugh. She’d smile. But she wouldn’t be better.”
Dad’s hands were shaking too badly for him to button the shirt himself, so I tossed his pants to the side and went to help him button his shirt…right until I realized I could barely manage to button my own damn shirt. So I just stood there, helplessly watching my father struggle to dress himself.
How the f**k had I missed this? How could I be so self-centered?
“You’re not self-centered. You’re recovering. There’s a difference.” Dad frowned at me. Those pain pills must’ve messed with my head. I hadn’t even meant to talk out loud. “But the kind of love that you two have doesn’t come around often. To waste it on pride and self-pity would be a crime.”
I swallowed hard. Damn it, he was right. I was being an idiot, but I already knew that. I just couldn’t stop. Too bad they didn’t make a pill for that. “I hate that she’s stuck with this. Stuck with me.”
“She’s not stuck with you; she chose you.” Dad caught my hand and squeezed it tight. “You can’t lose her, too. Don’t let that happen, because I guarantee you’ll regret it if you do.”
I met his eyes. “Are you saying I’m losing you?”
“I’m saying I’m old and sick.” Dad lifted a shoulder. “It’s not rocket science, son. Everyone dies. I’m not sad that my turn is coming. You shouldn’t be either.”
“I can’t lose you, Dad.”
“I’ll try my best to stay, but it’s not up to me.” Dad pointed up toward the ceiling. “It’s up to Him.”
At first I thought he meant Senator Wallington, whose bedroom suite was upstairs on the third floor, but then I realized he meant God. The same God I wasn’t even sure I believed in anymore. Why would the “merciful” God kill all my squad members, but let me live? Why would He take my mother away?
And why was He trying to take my father, too?
Later that night, I sat in my dark bedroom, staring out the window. The moon was full, and it made me think of the last time I’d seen it that way. I’d been with Carrie on my bike. We’d whipped through the streets of San Diego, and she’d clung to me the whole time. We’d been so wild and free and in love.
My dad kept insisting I stop pushing her away, but maybe I should be pushing her away even harder. Maybe I should break it off with her. Set her free. Wouldn’t that be better than this? I eyed my pill bottle. It hadn’t been long enough for me to take another one yet, but the urge was there. I tried to ignore it.