“He was our lieutenant.” Tony’s voice was low and full of a kind of dark cold that Danielle had grown very familiar with in her husband: grief. Shadow.
“Died?” Robby rumbled.
Tony nodded.
“Are those all from your company?”
Tony took a deep, unsteady breath. “My platoon.”
Three soldiers plus a corporal to a team, three teams plus a sergeant to a squad, three squads plus a lieutenant to a platoon… She ran her fingers down his back, from dog tag to dog tag. “There’s only twenty-three names here, though.” She knew why — why he had the names of just over half of his platoon etched into his skin. But she needed to hear him say it.
“Those… the ones who… died.”
She let her fingers drift back up to his shoulders, to the wave of names below the lieutenant’s. “Brandon Lemaster,” she whispered,
