— After that, I couldn’t fly combat anymore. Couldn’t lead crews. Couldn’t ask anyone to follow me into danger when I knew what it cost.
— Ma’am… with respect, that’s not—
— I know what you’re going to say, Sergeant. That it wasn’t my fault. That they were doing their jobs. That it was the enemy who killed them, not me.
Her eyes met his.
— I’ve heard it all. From counselors, chaplains, commanders. And intellectually, I know it’s true. But knowing something and feeling it are different things.
Morrison nodded slowly.
— So you came to Kandahar to fly cargo. Quiet. Safe.
— Until today.
— Are you okay? After today?
Grace considered the question seriously.
— I don’t know yet. Ask me tomorrow.
She stood, moving to the window, looking out at the flight line where the damaged A-10 sat under floodlights, maintenance crews swarming over it.
— But those SEALs are alive. That matters more than my feelings.
