I slipped my feet into my shoes sans socks and hurried toward the door.
Thankfully, I had my mother’s car, making it easy to leave.
I felt his eyes on me as I backed out of his driveway and cried my eyes out on the way home.
Instead of going to my bedroom, a place where I’d felt safe and completely in love over the last couple of weeks that Banner had been mine, I went to the TV room and plopped down onto the couch.
From there, I watched three episodes of House before my father finally came into the room.
He limped over to the couch and took a seat on the cushion beside me.
“What’s wrong, baby?” my father asked, touching the top of my head with his hand.
I stared blankly at the television, seeing but not.
I leaned farther into my father’s arms and curled my legs up onto the couch at his side.
“Banner told me that he’s joining the military. The Navy. A Navy SEAL,” I said softly as if that explained everything.
It didn’t.
Obviously, otherwise my dad wouldn’t have laughed.
“And?” he asked.
I gritted my teeth at his amusement.
“And he could die over there, Dad. He’s joining the scariest division in the freakin’ military!” I snapped, turning on the couch and staring at him in surprise. “Need I remind you that you almost died? And you weren’t even a SEAL!”
My dad’s face went soft.
“You’re right,” he replied. “I did almost die over there.”
He had.
When I was eight, my father had deployed to Iraq.
When I was eight and a half, a month before my father was supposed to return home, he’d tripped over something and his helmet had gone flying in front of him while he’d been sweeping an area for land mines.
When he’d fallen, his helmet had landed about a foot and a half in front of him.
Seconds after that, his left arm and leg were blown off.
At the time, they’d thought that they’d been able to save his other arm.
But they hadn’t.
Two weeks after the bomb had taken two of his limbs, it took another one.
He’d contracted an infection in his right arm that had settled into the bone, causing the doctors to have to amputate his other arm just under his elbow.
All in all, he’d managed to keep one leg, but even that had its problems.
The next year and a half, my father worked his ass off to get back to where he was—or as close as he could get seeing as he only had one limb left. And over that time, I’d met a whole lot more men that were in the exact same shoes as my father at the veteran’s hospital.
Honestly, it was kind of surprising just how many people were hurt over there. A whole lot more than anybody talked about, that was for sure.
So it wasn’t really a surprise that I had an aversion to the military.
I’d seen a whole lot of people struggle just like my dad had struggled.
Though, my father hadn’t seen all the times that my mother had cried in the hallway outside of his room. Or in the car on the way home as we left him at the hospital.
My mother had it hard.
She’d weathered the storm, but it had cost her.
“But, honey,” he continued. “I had something to live for.”
I blinked.
“What?” I asked in surprise.
“I had something to live for,” he continued. “I almost died, yes. But when I did almost die, I knew that you and your mom were there waiting for me. I knew that I had to live because y’all would be sad if I was gone.”
I felt tears bottleneck at the back of my throat, and all of a sudden, I was finding it hard to breathe.
“Did you know when your mother came to visit me that first time, I asked her to leave me?” he asked, pulling on my hand so that I tumbled into his chest.
“Yes.” I paused. “But only because I heard her cursing you.”
He grinned wickedly and dropped a kiss onto my forehead.
I tucked my head into his chest and stared at his prosthesis.
“Do you know what she said?” He laughed.
“No,” I replied softly now. “What did she say?”
“She said that she liked the idea of being able to use handicap spots at every store we went to.” He chuckled.
I snickered.
My mom would so say that.
“Let me ask you something, darlin’,” Dad rumbled softly.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Do you like him?”
There was no denying it.
I liked Banner a lot.
Enough that I brought him to my home and introduced him to my parents in the first place.
“Yes,” I replied. “I do.”
“Do you think your mother ever wished that she hadn’t stayed with me when she found out that I was in the military?” he asked.
An immediate denial sprung from my throat. “No!”
“He’s in love with you,” he said softly. “You should’ve seen him when you were hurt. I’ve seen fear like that on another person’s face before. You want to know who?”