Jace
Grant drops me back at Jake’s Retreat. My SUV will be towed to the local garage once the recovery units get that far up the mountain.
The room is silent when I unlock the door. I’m in a recovery suite and the cleaners have been in, leaving a lingering scent of disinfectant and a bed made with tight white hospital corners.
The sparse furniture is ordered in a tidy line: bed, chair, and the desk against the wall.
I toe off my boots and throw my pack down, dropping caked mud onto the clean floor.
My hip aches and I stretch it out, running through the exercises Savanna gave me.
The routine of the exercises should be calming, but something grates.
All my military life, physical exercises have been part of who I am and what I do.
But who is it for now? Out of habit, I complete the routine, then run a hot shower.
I stay under it for a long time, letting the heat run over my aching body. I never used to hurt this much after time in the field.
After the shower, I wrap a crisp white towel, supplied by the center, around my middle and pad into the kitchen area. In the fridge, I find a loaf of bread and a quart of milk. I make myself a peanut butter sandwich and drink the milk straight from the carton.
There’s a chest of drawers and a standing wardrobe, and I pull it open to find something clean to wear. The opening of the door rustles my ranger uniform. Both the field uniform and the dark green dress uniform hang in my closet. I stare at them, wondering when I’ll get to put them on again.
My fingers run over the fabric of the dress uniform, remembering when I first put it on for the passing out parade.
It’s the choice I made at seventeen years old, to serve my country and then to undertake the training to become a Ranger.
It’s not an easy unit to get into, and I trained for months, getting up before anyone else to hit the gym or go for a run, pushing myself harder each session, and then studying in the evenings.
It was a choice I made, and it paid off. I passed selection and became an Army Ranger, an elite warrior sent to do ground ops in some of the most volatile places on Earth. I’ve done a lot of missions in the Rangers, and I’ve seen my work make a real difference.
And I loved every minute of it. I saw cities burn and comrades fall, but I never regretted my choices.
Maybe it’s time to make a different choice.
Kayla’s words echo in my mind, and in the quiet of my room, there’s no escaping them.
The doctors said I’d never walk again after the explosion, and I showed them they were wrong.
So when they say I’ll never go back into the field, I’m determined to show them they’re wrong about that too. But what if I choose not to go back?
What if I stayed right here with Kayla? What if I chose a different kind of life, one where I can have a relationship? More than that, a wife and kids, a family of my own.
The thought of Kayla’s belly round with my child hits me right in the chest, and I know in the depths of my soul that’s what I want.
My hand drops the sleeve of the uniform.
It’s time to make a different choice.