Chapter Twenty-Three
Jackson
Sleep wasn’t claiming me, not in the hours of the dark morning. My thoughts did funny things when I had flashbacks. That one had been so brief, yet quite powerful. If the mind were a room, it was like the flashbacks came in and knocked everything out of order. You never knew where anything was going to land. My mind was spinning on its wheels. One wheel was filled with thoughts of Shay and my frustration with what I had walked into with her. The other wheel spun with regret, the same record playing again and again and again.
There was what I knew intellectually—war sometimes made people die. Sometimes those were people who mattered deeply, and sometimes you carried scars carved from the mixed feelings about a war tearing up another world. Then, there was the
