Julian stared at the floor.
“Marcus,” he warned.
Marcus continued anyway.
“Julian did.”
The terminal around us had begun moving again, but I barely noticed. The noise seemed far away.
Marcus swallowed.
“He pushed me down and covered me. The shrapnel hit him instead.”
I looked at the scars across Julian’s face. Until that moment, I had seen only damage. Now I saw the story beneath it.
Julian touched the side of his jaw.
“It wasn’t heroic,” he said. “It was instinct.”
“You nearly died,” Marcus replied.
“So did you.”
“But I didn’t.”
Marcus’ voice cracked.
He pulled Lily closer, then looked at me.
“I didn’t because of him.”
My throat closed.
All those nights Lily and I had kissed the photograph and prayed for Marcus to come home, we had unknowingly been looking at the man who made that prayer possible.
I reached for Julian’s hand.
