Semper Mine

by Lizzy Ford

  “Come on across,” Petr tells me. “Slowly.” He holds out a hand.

  Captain Mathis loosens his grip, and I shift around him, stretching one leg until my foot finds the first board. It’s not entirely steady, and Sawyer doesn’t release me immediately. Resting my full weight on the board, I take a tentative step.

  He lets go, and I make my way across them and fling myself into Petr’s arms.

  “Good Kitty-Khav,” Petr grunts, catching me and squeezing me tight. “What the fuck made you leave the path?”

  “Language,” I mutter.

  “None of that shit, Katya.” He takes my arms and pushes me away, blue eyes piercing. “You know better!”

  “Don’t yell!” I snap. I’m on the verge of crying again and give him puppy dog eyes.

  He sighs. “Don’t scare me like that.” He bear hugs me once more.

  I breathe in his familiar scent, comfortable in his arms.

  “Is Jenna okay?” I mumble into his chest.

  “Yeah. Scared. We’ll have a medic look her over.”

  Guilt works its way through me. Petr is right; I’m an idiot. All I had to do was stay on the course, and everything would be okay. I didn’t listen, and Jenna might be hurt.

  Exhausted after the long day, I’m ready to crawl into a real bed and cry myself to sleep.

  Petr takes my hand and leads me away. I don’t dare look at Captain Mathis, embarrassed that he of all people had to rescue me. It doesn’t help that I’m replaying our conversation in my head.

  I’m not broken. At least, I don’t want to be. I don’t know what’s what anymore. I’m too tired to think straight.

  When you’re ready, let me know.

  Of everything that happened today, I can’t stop the thrill that goes through me as I dwell on his words or the tiny voice in my head that can’t stop hoping maybe, he meant something more than talking.

  Not that I want that. I don’t have a clue what I do want.

  There’s too much for me to think about, and my body is toast after the long day. Carson hands Jenna over to me.

  “You okay, sweetie?” I whisper, hugging her close.

  She nods and wraps her arms around my neck.

  I teeter back and lean against a tree. My arms are shaky, my wrist killing me. I’m afraid I’ll drop her and let the tree support my weight. With a sigh, I rest my head against hers and close my eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” I murmur. “I should’ve been more careful.”

  She’s calming in my arms.

  “I’ll take her.” Captain Mathis says quietly.

  I look up at him. Normally, I’d argue, but right now, I’m feeling weak.

  “Marines don’t hug,” Jenna replies.

  “I’ll make one exception,” he replies without hesitation.

  She goes to him and wraps her arms around his neck. “Can we have bacon again?”

  Sawyer meets my gaze, his dark eyes taking in my features. I wipe my cheeks free of tears self-consciously. He’s standing close enough to make my blood race, his scent and warmth tickling my senses.

  “You good to go?” he asks.

  “Great.” I straighten, embarrassed by the intensity of his look, especially in front of Petr, who has on eyebrow raised. “By the way, when did you give them bacon?”

  Sawyer starts to smile. A real smile, like he gives everyone else. He’s holding my gaze, and my face is getting warm.

  “Do you know how processed bacon is? There’s nothing natural about it by the time they’re done making it,” I add. I can’t summon the normal amount of anger I should, not after what we just went through. If he doesn’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to start begging him for bacon, too.

  “But I love bacon,” Jenna says mournfully. She rests her head on Sawyer’s shoulder.

  “Bacon should be its own food group,” Riley seconds.

  “Whatever.” I move around Sawyer and start walking back towards the course. One look from him, and I’m having trouble thinking and don’t even notice how soaked and cold my clothing is.

  The warmth he creates lasts until I start to think about what he said when we were clinging to the ravine wall.

  You haven’t given yourself time to heal from Mikael’s death.

  I hate that he’s right. It’s the same reason I don’t want to take down Mikael’s pictures, because I’m afraid if I let go, I’ll lose what part of him I still have.

  By the time we’re back to the dorms, I’m close to tears again.

  Chapter Fifteen: Sawyer

  Katya doesn’t speak all the way back to the barracks. We arrive around eight, which is bedtime for the beat kids. She disappears inside. I don’t bother trying to talk to her and accompany Jenna to the medic’s.

  After twenty minutes, we return. Jenna is bruised up but otherwise healthy. She’s almost out, and I’m carrying her. I’m not at all anxious to get back to the room I share with Katya, so I wait on the porch while Jenna drags her feet to the community head for a shower.

  I watch the other teams settling in for the night. Riley’s got the wild kids, and his barracks is the only one active still. Petr flips off lights in his barracks and closes the door behind him, heading towards me.

  Coated in mud, I’m content on the porch, trying to get my head straight after the past twenty-four hours. It has nothing to do with the ravine incident and everything to do with the woman I can’t seem to dismiss the way I want to.

  “Hey, sir.” Petr reaches the porch and sits beside me. “Interesting day.”

  I snort.

  “You ready to kill my sister yet?”

  “She’s something else,” I allow. I’m not sure if I want to kill her or fuck her. I’ve never met anyone who provokes that kind of mixed reaction out of me. Usually, those sentiments are as far apart as they can get.

  “Thanks for helping her out today.” Petr’s smile fades. A shadow crosses his features. “I can’t lose another sibling.”

  “You won’t,” I reply firmly. I can see his pain briefly, the same that Katya expresses in those moments when her guard is down. It’s a sobering reminder of the lives affected by a decision I made months ago, one that frustrates me. There’s nothing I can do to help. “She keeps me on my toes. It’s a good thing.”

  Petr laughs. “You couldn’t sound any less eager!”

  “She’s not that bad.” Today was unexpectedly rough. I learned a little too much about Katya, and it’s made me uncertain how to handle that knowledge and how I feel about her.

  He glances at me, as if to see if I’m joking. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Interesting.” A smile pulls up the corners of his lips. His eyes are twinkling. “Not many people give her a chance to show how sweet she is beneath that temper.”

  “She’s got more depth than I thought at first. I didn’t know she was hurt when your mother died in the fire.”

  “Yeah. When the alarms went off, Kitty ran the opposite way she was supposed to. Towards the fire to help us instead of escaping. The beam almost crushed her. Baba lifted it off her, but the damage was done. Our mother was dead and Katya close to it. Most of the muscular structure of her back and one hip was basically melted. It took her years in rehab to learn to walk right again.”

  The images his words create disturb me, more so because I can see her running into a fire to save someone she cared about. The woman I wrote off as a superficial bitch when we first met has incredible courage and loyalty to those she loves that puts a lot of Marines I know to shame. I get the sense she doesn’t let many people near her, but those she does, she keeps, defends, and loves to her last breath.

  This knowledge is what makes me so uneasy. Temper aside, she’s an incredible woman.

  “She’s a lot like you and Mikael,” I say, recalling how Mikael didn’t even blink before sacrificing himself to clear a path for the rest of us to escape.

  “Except I can’t throw as well.” Petr chuckles.

  I
smile. The more I learn about Katya, the more troubled I feel. I can’t exactly pinpoint why Petr’s explanation bothers me so much.

  I don’t want to care for her. I don’t want our attraction to mean or become something more than physical lust.

  “The guys said you went from cold to ice after the incident,” Petr says softly. “Slightly suicidal, I hear, too. Taking risks no one else would dream of.”

  I don’t respond.

  “You, uh, know it’s not your fault, don’t you?”

  “That can’t be farther from the truth,” I say in a hushed voice. “I sent the team in.” I don’t want to talk about this with anyone. I feel … obligated with Petr, though, given everything that happened that night.

  “You didn’t know. We all thought it was clear.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “Your lives are my responsibility.”

  “You’re a good man, Captain Mathis, but you’re as fucking stubborn as Katya. What happened that night, what happens any night when things go wrong, is just the way war is. Sometimes no matter what choice you make, something’s going to go wrong.”

  I listen.

  “Mikael understood that, too,” he continues. “We all knew what we signed up for and that we might not come back one day. It doesn’t make it easier to lose someone, but his death is not your burden.”

  “I tend to agree with your sister on this one,” I try to joke. It falls flat.

  “She knows it, too. If she hated you, truly hated you, she wouldn’t be near you. I think some part of her wants to understand you. Mikael chose to save you as much as me, and you are the only reason any of us made it out. Whether or not she will admit it, that means something to her. You mean something to her, because Mikael gave his life for yours.”

  I stare into the night. First Katya says I’m broken, and now Petr seems to be agreeing. I don’t want to be broken. I don’t want to admit that maybe my inability to sleep is an issue, that my actions in battle since that night have been more risky than usual.

  I don’t want to think about the idea that one day, I might have to return from Iraq, and there’s nothing waiting for me, because I’m pretty sure I’ve decided to die in battle at some point. Leaving the war gives me time to think, which is why I’ve been avoiding taking the leave that my commander recommended. If not for this week at camp, I wouldn’t have come back to the States unless I was ordered to or in a box.

  If I were listening to one of my guys tell me this, I’d have to refer him to counseling.

  “I can see my wounds.” Petr slaps his metal leg. “I think yours are just as important to take care of.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I reply. I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s not in me to take a break from leading the team to nurse my wounds. The Corps and my missions are all that have ever meant anything to me. I’d rather keep active and find another way to address my issues. “Between us, I think Katya needs to be in counseling.”

  “She does. Baba and I have talked about it recently. She might listen to you better than us,” Petr says ruefully.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  “I am. If you’re brave enough to tell her.”

  I think I did earlier. “I’ll handle it.” I don’t know why it makes me smile, but it does. “Three tours in Iraq, Petr, and you can’t manage your sister.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll leave that to the experts. I’m not sure how to handle her sometimes. There are days when I think she needs a babysitter and those when she’s all that’s standing between me and the pain.”

  I listen, not surprised to hear his views on his sister. My thoughts return to Harris. As much as I want to bury him in the forest, I’m thinking more than ever that Petr is the one who should handle him.

  “Petr.” I stop, hesitating. “I want to tell you something, but I want you not to react to it without some thought.”

  “This can’t be good.” His curious blue eyes are on me.

  “It’s Harris. I think he’s gotten a little … aggressive with your sister.”

  All humor fades from Petr’s features, replaced by the stony expression he gets before a fight. I can feel him tense beside me.

  “She thinks she can handle it. I think she shouldn’t ever be alone with him again,” I add.

  “What do you mean aggressive?” The lethal tone tells me he’s not going to take this too well.

  “Just keep an eye out.” I have a feeling if he knew, he’d show none of the restraint I’m compelled to and will beat the shit out of Harris. Harris deserves it, and I’m tempted to say more.

  “Sawyer …”

  “That’s all I’m saying.”

  He studies me and then looks out at the dark forest. “I always knew he was a predator.”

  “You’d be right. You’re right about her needing someone to take care of her, too. I thought about handling it on my own, but …”

  “I need to do it.” The firmness in Petr’s voice is an indication I was right. “I’ve been medicated and treated like an invalid for the past few weeks. It’s fucking frustrating. If he thinks he can roll over my family because I’m twenty five percent metal …” He shakes his head, face hard. “I appreciate you letting me handle it.”

  “Not a problem.” I feel better knowing he’s aware now. Petr isn’t going to let anything happen to his sister.

  I’m still going to have what my guys refer to as a wall-to-wall counseling session with Harris before I leave. If he ever comes near Katya again, Petr can handle him first, and I’ll finish him off.

  “I can’t believe she said something to you and not me.” He’s scrutinizing me now. “Something else you want to tell me?”

  Jenna emerges from the head, dressed and dragging her towel behind her.

  “It’s bedtime,” I say with a half-smile.

  “That’s it?”

  “Nothing else to tell.” I stand.

  Jenna glances up but doesn’t stop, going into the barracks silently.

  “Poor girl had a rough day.” Petr is watching her with a grin. He waits until the door closes behind her before standing to face me. “I love you like a brother, but Katya …”

  “I wouldn’t dishonor her, you or Mikael,” I reply.

  “I trust you, Sawyer.” He studies me briefly. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Night.”

  He walks back to his barracks. I wait, feeling even more determined to put up a barricade between my emotions and Katya.

  Walking into the barracks, I see Jenna climbing into bed. I lock the door before heading back to the room I share with Katya. Fortunately, she’s in the break room. I slide into our room, grab a pair of boxers and sweats and go to the bathroom. I miss the way women smell, the mix of bathing and hair products.

  I just wish they weren’t so damn messy.

  “Damn civilians.” Her stuff is everywhere again. I can’t stand the disorder and straighten up before hopping in for a quick, hot shower.

  When I emerge, she’s seated on the edge of her bed, concentrating hard on wrapping her right wrist with her non-dominant hand. It’s instinctive for me to help out younger Marines or distressed civilians. Tossing my t-shirt on the bed, I automatically cross to her side of the room and kneel in front of her.

  “Did you ice it?” I ask, taking her wrist in one hand and the bandage in the other.

  “Yeah.”

  Her smooth, toned legs are on either side of me, and she’s in a long-sleeved t-shirt again, as if I hadn’t already seen the scars on her back.

  I unwrap her wrist and start over. “You want to alternate so it creates more stability,” I explain and slowly begin wrapping.

  She’s unusually quiet.

  I glance up at her face and pause. Her eyes are rimmed with red. Her wet hair is in a braid down her back, her gorgeous hazel gaze on her wrist.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask.

  “A little.”

  “What’s wrong?” Too late, I debated whether or not
I should ask.

  She shrugs.

  I hate that response, little less than the none of your business answer she gives me. Choosing to ignore it and the stir of my blood at being so close to her, I focus on wrapping her wrist.

  “Jenna’s fine,” I say.

  “The medic called to tell me. I’m glad.” She sighs.

  “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  The testy answer is confirmation. For once, I’m not in the mood for a fight. “You did good today, Katya.”

  “No, I didn’t! It’s my fault she fell.” Her voice trembles.

  “You saved her.”

  She tries to yank her arm away. I keep it tight.

  “Sometimes shit happens, even if you do everything right,” I say firmly. “You can’t always control all the circumstances. You go off your best judgment and then make a call.”

  She’s silent.

  Another look at her face stops me once more. Katya is the worst person I’ve ever met at hiding emotions, and those swimming in her gaze are more intense than usual. She’s gazing at me a little too openly for my comfort. Petr’s shared insight has me thinking I know why she’s looking at me this way, like she’s both waiting for more and uncertain she wants me to continue.

  “Sometimes even if you’re ninety nine percent certain of an outcome, something else happens,” I add. “You do what you did today: react as intelligently as you can. But it’s not your fault she fell, Katya.” Those words are the hardest to say, because I feel responsible for the decision that cost Mikael his life.

  “I still feel guilty.”

  “I understand.” I don’t think that ever goes away. Clearing my throat, I finish her wrist. I’ve never met anyone who wears their emotions on their sleeves like she does. I’m not sure what to say to help or even if I can.

  I release her hand.

  “You feel this way about Mikael, don’t you?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I do.” We’re at eye level with me kneeling in front of her. Meeting her brown-green gaze, I try not to think about how close her body is. The tension is between us again, almost unbearable when we’re alone in the emotionally charged environment that follows us wherever we go. My fingers are twitching with the need to touch her, my body heated from the inside out.