The Wounded by Eden Winters, Parker Williams

Chapter One
Jay stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hands. “Just think about it, okay?” He made the suggestion casually, like it
    didn’t really matter one way or another whether they made the Veteran’s Day trip to Atlanta, but the taut set of his shoulders said
    otherwise.
    Why did everyone insist on forcing Michael out into the world? He’d gotten past his agoraphobia enough to attend classes at Avery University, and
    he dutifully parked his butt on his counselor’s couch every Wednesday to work on his issues. What more did folks want?
    Besides… “I’m not a ‘wounded’.”
    Jay didn’t say a word. They’d had this talk before.
    “If we go, people will look at me funny. I mean, c’mon, there’ll be guys there who’re lucky to be alive.
    They’ll look at me—two arms, two legs, both eyes—and think I’m horning in where I don’t
    belong.”
    Again Jay remained silent. He’d made his arguments long ago.
    Yes, Michael had been wounded in battle, but his wounds had healed, for the most part. Sure, he’d never regain the hearing in one ear, and he
    still woke up screaming, but his war wounds paled in comparison to some of the other veterans he knew. How many veterans had he met who walked with
    prosthetic limbs and would never again lift their children with their own arms? Those men and women’s sacrifices far exceeded his. He
    didn’t deserve to march with The Wounded in the Veterans Day parade in Atlanta.
    “Just give it some thought,” Jay said again. “We can still go hang out.”
    The pressure in Michael’s chest lifted. Being out in the open, marching in formation, brought back too many memories—few of them good.
    Did Jay have to add, “But remember, this isn’t just for the living—it honors those who gave their all in defense of this
    country”?
    Shit. In other words, Jimmy—who’d fallen in battle in Iraq. An image of his friend came to mind: red hair, freckles, mischievous grin.
    If marching would bring Jimmy back, Michael would hike barefoot all the way to the White House. But it wouldn’t. What of Ryan? The lover Jimmy
    left behind was in no condition to attend the parade. Michael released a defeated sigh a split second before he actually made up his mind.
    “I’ll think about it.” His own lover smiled.
    “That’s all I ask.” Jay underscored his words with a kiss.
    ***
    A fist squeezed Jay’s heart. Michael’s forlorn expression nearly made him give in. However, on this he must stand firm. Three years of
    therapy made a marked improvement, but until Michael admitted he had a problem, they couldn’t move on.
    Michael’s PTSD presented a struggle for Jay as well as for Michael. Thank God for the online support group he’d found: Partners of The
    Wounded. For six months Jay had chatted online with men and women who faced the same issues of how to care for and support someone who’d been
    through the unimaginable. Thanks to the fall of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, he’d even connected with another gay couple. Mark and
    Jase knew the struggles Jay faced with Michael, and their advice kept him moving forward when he didn’t know what to do on his own.
    When Jay grew discouraged, they picked him up. When he had good news to share, they rejoiced with him. And they were coming to Atlanta for the Veterans Day
    observance. Up until now Michael’d always said, “Yeah, that’s nice,” whenever Jay spoke of his new online friends,
    never showing much interest in meeting face to face.
    Jase was one of the injured Michael referred to as walking with prosthetic limbs. But as Jase often said, “Wounded is wounded, healing is
    healing.” Regardless of if the injury was internal or external.
    According to Mark, they’d traveled a rough road with Jase’s recovery, but they were light years ahead of Michael and Jay in some ways.
    Plus they were legally married. Damn, but Jay wanted that with Michael, but Alabama was a far cry from Vermont. The best he and Michael