“I meant what I said!” I told her. “It’s disrespectful to ‘go after’ him right now. She doesn’t know him like I do. If he hooks up with someone this soon after Livia’s death, he will feel guilty. That’s how he works.”
“Well, Linette is not going to stop, regardless of how he works. So either you have to trust that he will make the right decision and turn her down, which no guy I know would do, or you have to step in and claim him once and for all.”
I swallowed hard as moisture filled my face. “He told her . . .” I took a deep breath that rattled my chest. “He told her I’m like a sister.”
It would always be the thing that held me back. The thorn in my side. That fear of rejection—of ruining the sweet relationship we had by trying for something more if there was a possibility he didn’t see me the way I saw him.
“There you guys are!” Matt grabbed Remy and picked her up off her feet, spinning her and making her squeal. “Happy New Year!”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Texas Harry’s bearded smile. I hugged him, and passed out hugs to all the other guys, ending with my brother. His hug was weak. I cleared my throat and let him go. He was glaring at Remy and Matt as they talked.
“How’s it going at work?” I asked. “Out there at night?”
He shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Not much to see but snow.” Yeah, he wasn’t interested in talking. He kept glancing at Remy.
“You can talk to her,” I said.
“She’s busy. And it’s better if we don’t.”
“Why? It’s okay to care, Tater—”
“No,” he cut me off. “It’s not.” His jaw set. Stubborn ass.
I looked around for Rylen, who was nowhere.
“Where’s Ry?” I asked.
“Tired, I guess. Gotta work early, so he went back to the room.” I followed Tater’s eyes to where he was watching Remy approach us.
I looked at the far wall, and sure enough Rylen was disappearing through the lobby door. A knife of disappointment planted itself in my navel. He’d left without a good-night or a New Year greeting. I couldn’t help but think the kiss had something to do with it. It probably rattled him. My entire body itched to go.
“Happy New Year, Jacob,” Remy said softly.
“Yeah,” he said. Tater scratched the back of his head. When he didn’t reach to hug her, the two of them stood there awkwardly, both looking . . . sad.
“I’m gonna go back to the room,” I said.
Remy sighed. “I think I’ll go too.”
“Night.” Tater turned away from us.
Remy followed me through the crowd. When we got up to our floor, she inclined her chin toward the guys’ room. Rylen would be in there alone.
My heart, which had begun to accelerate, was racing now. I shook out my hands and walked slowly to his door. Remy gave me a good-luck smile and disappeared into our room. I let out five nervous breaths before working up the nerve to knock.
It took half a minute for Rylen to open the door. He was in boxers. That’s it. And it did nothing to slow my heart or breathing. I tore my eyes up from his waistline, over the pepper tattoo on his pec, and to his face.
“Hey, Pep.” He shifted to the side. “You okay? Let me just . . . uh . . .” He glanced behind him and the absolute worst thought struck me.
“Are you alone?” I whispered.
“Yeah.” He cocked his head at the fear in my voice. “I’m just gonna grab some pants. Come on in.” Oh, thank God.
I put my hand on the door but gave him a second to go inside. When I went in, he was stepping into track pants. I leaned against the wall, more nervous than I’d ever been, as he sat on the edge of the bed, legs wide, and gazed up at me.
“What’s up?” he asked. He sounded tired.
Say it. Say something. “I know it’s not my place to say this, but . . . I think you should be careful of Linette.”
He grasped the back of his neck and stared at the floor. “Nothing is going on with us—”
“I know.” I rubbed my face. Every word I’d planned to say sprinted out of my mind and left me standing there completely empty headed. Awkward, expectant silence stretched between us.
“I don’t think she understands or respects where you’re at, and what you need.”
He looked at me then, with such suffering in his gaze, and asked, “Where am I, Pepper? What do I need?”
The anguish there made me nearly slide to the floor. I closed my eyes against the wave of emotions and forced myself to speak.
“I think you’re hurting and you need time.”
His eyes dropped to the floor again, silent. Was I wrong? Was Linette right, that he needed her affections to help him heal?
No, damn it! I could not stand the thought of her ever touching him again like she’d done tonight. I was going to comfort him my own damn self. I took shaky steps forward until I stood between his knees. I saw his shoulders hitch with an intake of air, but he didn’t raise his head. I moved forward until his forehead was pressing against my stomach. Then I slid my hands around the back of his head and held him there.
Before I could be self-conscious or wonder if I was forcing affection on him, his arms went around my back and pulled me closer, his face pressing against my abdomen. I felt his warm breaths through the cotton of my shirt as we held one another in the most tender moment I’d ever experienced with him. I knew in the way he pressed into me, pulling me tighter, his fingers rubbing into my skin through the shirt, that this was exactly what he needed.
I held him, and held him longer, and felt him, and though it might not have been sexual to him, it was the most sensual moment of my life. My entire body went taut and heated at the feel of his hands on my back. His face pressed to me. My hands in his hair.
Footsteps and voices coming up the hall shattered the delicate moment. I moved away from him at the sound of the door unlocking with a click. New York Josh was talking loudly about the Yankee’s baseball record; apparently Tater had tried to bust his balls. They both stopped and shut up when they saw us—Rylen still sitting on the edge of the bed, and me now standing a couple feet away.
Josh hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “You need us to find another room?”
“What?” Rylen said. “Man, shut the fuck up.”
“All right.” Josh winked at me. “My bad.”
Tater looked between the two of us.
“I was just leaving,” I said. “Good night.” I gave them an awkward wave and shot a glance at Rylen as I turned to leave. His elbows rested on his knees, watching me go, the heat of his gaze steaming me from the inside out.
My palms were sweating when Remy and I joined the circle and took seats in metal folding chairs. Please, please, please let this be over quickly, and don’t make me talk.
Eleven of us sat around the circle, five women and six men, including the Army chaplain leading the grief group. He smiled pleasantly. “Most of us know each other, but I like to start with everyone introducing themselves.”
Cue internal groaning.
When it got to Remy she said, “I’m Remy Haines, twenty-one, from just north of Las Vegas. I was in my final year of college, majoring in biology when the war started. My dad was a pastor. My mom was in real estate. I wanted to be a middle-school teacher.”
Everyone nodded appreciatively and then chuckled when the chaplain said, “Ah, brave girl.”
And then it was my turn. “Um, hi, I’m Amber Tate. From the same town as Remy—we’re best friends from high school. I’m a paramedic. And, um, I’m not really here to share, to be honest. I’m here to support Remy.”
The chaplain watched me with deep eyes that seemed to prod at my emotions and say, “I know you’re hurting.” I swallowed and looked away, gripping the sides of the chair I sat in. This hour was going to suck.
As people began telling their stories, most of them crying or getting teary-eyed, I had to build the familiar shield around my heart that I used to build for my job. It d
idn’t always work. Some stories were able to climb that barrier or somehow slip through cracks, and it made me physically ill. I tried not to listen now to the pain in people’s voices, thick with emotion. I tried not to process their words . . .
“My wife was visiting her hometown in Washington. We never got in touch, and I don’t know if she’s still alive . . .”
“I watched my four-year-old son and six-year-old daughter die from something in the water. Their tiny bodies were bloated with sores—I tried everything to keep them comfortable, but they cried and cried . . .”
“My husband ran outside during a curfew when he saw DRI dragging our neighbor out of his home. I watched through the window as they shot him four times. My husband, and then the neighbor. I screamed into a pillow. I screamed until I didn’t have a voice anymore . . .”
Remy freely cried with the others as the stories were told. I continued to grip the sides of the chair, leaning slightly forward, my head down so I didn’t have to see the anguished faces. I struggled to breathe evenly, my jaw clenching so hard my head pounded.
When it got to Remy and her story poured out, I let myself go completely numb, because her story wasn’t just her own. Her story intertwined with mine. And I didn’t want to relive it. I had to keep it in the past, far away from me, where it couldn’t slice me open. I let her words become a distant whomping in my head. By the end of her testimony, I was rocking forward and backward, chanting No, no, no, no, no in my mind.
I startled when a gentle voice said, “Amber?” The chaplain. I kept my head down and shook it. “This is a safe place to speak, Amber.” I shook it harder. He left me alone, but Remy’s soft hand pried mine off the seat and we linked our fingers together. I couldn’t look at her, but I held tight.
When he dismissed us, I shot out of that chair like a bullet and didn’t stop until I was far enough away that nobody would bother chasing me to try and small talk. I paced by a loveseat in the lobby until Remy was done saying good-bye to the others, and then I moved straight to the door, speed-walking. I was a quarter of the way down the hall when Remy grasped my hand from behind and pulled me to a stop.
I turned and our arms went straight around one another. We hugged and I breathed in the clean smell of her hair.
“I’m sorry, Remy. I just can’t—”
“I know,” she said. “It’s okay.”
When we both calmed down enough, we let go and continued the rest of the way to our room.
I was deep asleep when I heard a shout from the next room, followed by running feet and swift knocks at our door. I was already shoving my legs out of the bed, sprinting to rip the door open. Rylen stood there, shirtless and breathless.
“Tater,” is all he said, and we both ran, Remy close behind.
Tater was on the floor of their room, breathing hard through groans, his hands gripping the curls at the top of his head. Panic attack? I fell to his side, suddenly aware with all the eyes on me that I was only wearing a T-shirt and panties. I shoved that thought aside and focused on my brother.
“Careful,” Josh murmured. “He clocked the shit out of me.”
Keeping a small distance, I called Tater’s name and put a gentle hand on his forearm. He jumped and swung out his arm, but I leaned back, ready for it. His eyes were slits, like he was still half sleeping.
“Tater, it’s me. It’s Amber.” And then throwing all caution to the wind, I wrapped him in my arms, holding him despite his thrashing and repeating, “Shh, Tater, esta bien. You’re okay. I’m here, guero.”
“Amb?” It came out as a sob and he clutched his arms around me. “You were dead. H-he shot you.”
“It was just a dream,” I murmured. “I’m safe. I’m right here.”
He was breathing hard and I felt his heart racing in his chest. I pulled back and looked at his eyes. “Take a deep breath,” I told him. He closed his eyes and obeyed. His entire demeanor changed, calming, and he opened his eyes again. When he focused on me, I gave him a small smile of encouragement, but on the inside, I was wrecked. He gave me a weary nod.
“Just a dream,” he whispered.
It had been more than a dream. It was PTSD. I was certain now. All the pieces fell together.
We stood on shaky legs, and I tugged my shirt down.
“Sorry,” Tater said to everyone, running a nervous hand through his hair.
Josh waved it off. “You can kiss my shiner in the morning.”
Tater huffed an embarrassed sound through his nose.
I turned to go. Remy had been behind me, watching in worried silence. She nodded and left. Rylen held the door.
“Thank you,” he whispered when I got to him.
“I’m glad you got me,” I whispered back.
I left, feeling my thighs on display, and promising myself that from now on I would sleep with bottoms on. Just in case.
Remy and I liked to hit the gym mid-morning when most of the people in the compound were leaving for their day shift or resting after breakfast from being on the night shift. Problem was, our group of guys figured out our schedule and liked to join us. We’d come to the conclusion that they enjoyed our company and couldn’t keep away. Truth be told, after all we’d been through, we were kind of attached. I felt more comfortable with them near me, and I think they felt the same.
So, I ran on the treadmill with Remy on the stair-climber beside me. After ten minutes of getting our heart rates up, we would drop to the floor for squats, lunges, sit-ups and pushups. But for now we watched as the guys worked. Tex spotted Devon at the weight bench. He could probably press mine and Remy’s weight combined. Tater, Josh, Mark, Matt, and Rylen were doing a race that I fully enjoyed watching: one hundred jumping jacks, twenty-five pushups, fifty squats, and fifty sit-ups.
Seeing as how we faced them, I could watch with no fear of repercussion. The guys were shirtless, except Matt, who was still self-conscious of his physique, though he looked fine to me. Rylen, Tater, and Josh all sported six packs these days, but poor Mark had a hard time putting weight onto his thin, tall frame.
I watched Rylen unabashedly, sweat running down my neck. I tried, and failed, not to look at his crotch during jumping jacks, but holy wow. I couldn’t peek at Remy because she always made me laugh. Let’s just say none of the guys packed jock straps for the trip. I watched as Rylen dropped into a perfect plank for his pushups, moving up and down as if he weighed nothing, and never losing form as his arms worked: forearms, biceps, and triceps on full display. Squats were especially fun—bulging thighs and muscular butts. By that point they were sweating nicely. And the grunts always sounded really dirty to me. I would never admit to a soul how much I enjoyed gym time.
“That was only forty-nine squats, Matt, you cheater!” Remy called.
“Aw, damn it!” He jumped back up from where he’d fallen on the mat, did one more squat with a grimace, and fell back down to do sit-ups. The other guys were trying not to laugh as they curled up and down as fast as they could.
Tater splayed outward with a groan a split second before Rylen with Josh close behind. Mark finished two seconds later, and Matt was a full ten seconds behind.
“Jacob wins!” Remy called.
I clapped, trying not to lose my concentration on the treadmill.
The guys stood, breathing hard and sweating. Rylen looked over, and I swear his eyes superglued themselves to my bouncing chest. Not as bouncy as Remy’s, but still. He didn’t stare very long, but it was long enough to make my nipples tighten and my core flush with heat. I swallowed hard and hit the Stop button. His smoky gaze flashed up to my face and he turned away, grabbing a towel and rubbing it roughly over his face and neck. I glanced at Remy to see if she’d noticed, but she was too busy watching Tater run a hand through his dark, damp waves.
My heart rate was way higher than it needed to be as Remy and I went to the other side of the mat and began our lunges. He’s a guy, I thought as my thigh muscles and calves burned. A lonely guy who glanced at your boobs. It co
uld’ve been anyone’s boobs. It just happened to be yours.
Yeah, but Remy’s are more impressive, and he wasn’t looking at hers.
“What’s wrong?” Remy asked through panting breaths.
Oh, shit, she’d moved on to squats and I was just standing there.
“Nothing.” I joined her in squatting, holding my hands out.
I nearly fell on my ass when the gym door burst open. Top let out a huge sigh as he took us in.
“There you all are.”
Every one of us jumped to attention, alert.
“What’s up, Top?” Tex asked.
“The two men you told us about—J.D. Frazer and Lieutenant Wilcott?”
My heart leapt in my chest and we all moved forward.
“They’re here?” Devon asked.
“Yes. Can I get one of you to verify their identity?”
“I’ll go,” Rylen said.
“Me too,” said Devon.
Screw that. We were all going.
Our entire sweaty crew ran down the halls and tunnel, bursting into the common room and to the entry hall. When we found Sean and J.D. in the meeting room, it was like a family reunion. Hugs and laughter, like we’d known each other forever, not just a few days.
“Guess that’s an affirmative,” Top said. “I’ll give you all some time.” He closed the door behind himself.
Seeing the tired, shrunken, shivering bodies of Sean and J.D. made me recall the day we’d arrived. J.D. wrapped his arms around himself and peered around.
“What made you come?” Rylen asked. “Did something happen?”
“Ran out of ramen,” Sean said. He sent a nervous look to J.D., who did not chuckle along with the others.
“No word from your partner?” I guessed.
J.D. swallowed hard. “We could have given it another day, or at least left a note.”
Sean’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. I had a feeling it had been a fight to get him out of that cabin.
“Well, you’re as safe as you’re going to get here,” Remy said. “And there’s food.”
Both of their eyes lit up at this.
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