❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
The moment the words left her mouth, Owen’s stomach sank and reality sent in. He had to be sure, sure that what he was thinking was true and to his dismay it was. The first thought that trailed into his mind, was Amelia, now Amelia Shepherd-Hunt. How could he possibly tell her? Tell his wife that he was going off for another tour? That his promise to always be there for her was going to be broken for a few months, depending on how long they needed him over there.
And then the thoughts ran ragged. Was he even ready? Unsure of what even to say in that moment, Owen’s tangent thumb came up to run against his bottom lip before his index fingers met his temple.
❝How am I going to tell Amelia?❞
Teddy averted her eyes, wanting to give Owen the same respect she’d have awarded any other soldier; in doing so, the wrongfulness grew in weight upon her shoulders. How could she think up such a repulsive lie? Owen wasn’t just another faceless, nameless soldier — he was family. He’d saved her when she’d been blinded by weakness; he’d shown her compassion when there’d been none. And this was how she would repay him?
The game of selfish facades was due, and Teddy couldn’t keep hers up any longer. She couldn’t pretend to be this heartless, when every piece of her wished to take Owen’s pain for herself. It was only a matter of time before her voice betrayed her.
❝
You tell her what you told me when we were separated in the desert, ❞
she said quietly.
❝ She’ll still be scared out of her mind, but it has to be enough.
❞
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