Sandra nodded. “And he’s in your graduating class? Did you see how many went down?” Sandra shook her head. Jack’s fingers swept over the back of her neck. His warm thigh was pressed to hers, steady and firm. Lem’s lips stayed tight, had been thin ever since she nauseously described watching his youngest hit the ground with a hole in his heart. Daniel stood leaning against the wall, face like a stone mask and favoring his side a bit, like he did these days, even though the doctors said he was completely healed. Not again, she whispered fervently to herself. They weren’t going to get hurt because of her ever again. Except this was worse than them being hurt. This was Jack dead. Him dead and her almost certainly dead and— She hadn’t wanted to push a vision away this badly in a real long time. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Do we have to go over this again?”
