Damaged Desires: A Frenemy, Military Romance

by LJ Evans

  “I’d say it in all five languages I know if I thought it would help,” he said, remorse etched across the words.

  The waiter dropped off the next pitcher of cosmos, and I downed one before I responded. “I’m tired of you saying it.”

  He looked up, surprised.

  “It’s in the past, Russell; just leave it there.”

  “I would leave it alone if I thought it really was in the past for you. Instead, I’m almost certain it’s one of the reasons you’re leaving.”

  Leave it to him and his three bachelors, two masters, and Ph.D. to figure it out. As if it were rocket science and not a normal human reaction.

  “I’ve talked about getting out for a long time,” I said, which was the truth.

  “You talked about it like everyone talks about retirement. Some far away thing you might be working toward, but you weren’t quite ready to make happen.”

  Below the alcohol that had loosened every part of me, my body started to tighten back up. Seeing Russell often did it to me. Letting him speak while avoiding the huge sinkhole behind us always did it to me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, the warning obvious.

  “Isn’t that the problem?”

  That pissed me off. My restraint I’d once been known for was failing me for the second time that evening. I shoved my empty glass in his direction. “You do not get to say that. Ever. Do you understand me?”

  Surprise slithered across his face. Russell never saw me like this. Unhinged. Unbalanced. Ruffled. No one did. It wasn’t me.

  “Just say it,” he demanded. “It’s my fault.”

  “Stop!”

  “No. Not until I’ve said the things you haven’t let me say for a year.”

  “Closure. You’re looking for closure? Now?” I laughed, and it wasn’t a nice laugh. It was harsh. Cold. Bitter.

  He tugged his ear. A nervous tell I’d picked up on years ago. A tell which allowed me to beat him every time we played poker together at my family’s gatherings.

  “Dani, I made a choice that night. I chose to go see my ex instead of showing up at the hotel. I left you alone. If I hadn’t―”

  I was out of the chair and heading in the direction of the bathrooms before I had to hear another word. The real reason my appetite had disappeared was clear. He was back with his ex. Mac met me coming the other way, and his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Russell at the table I’d just vacated.

  “He upset you.” He said it like it was a fact more than a question.

  “No!” Yes.

  “I’ll get rid of him,” Mac said.

  “Don’t. Play nice. I’ll be back in a minute.” I didn’t need him to get rid of Russell for me. It didn’t matter anymore. It was highly unlikely I’d ever see him again after today. Not if I had any say in the matter. Which I did.

  In the bathroom stall, I sat on the closed lid and just breathed, in and out, trying to force thoughts of another bathroom from my head. Forcing thoughts of how I’d waited for Mac in a stall much like this one.

  The door swung open, and then I saw Georgie’s gold sandals, which I’d all but forced her to buy, stop in front of the stall I was in.

  “Dani?”

  I flushed the toilet I hadn’t used, stood up, turned the lock, and exited. She was waiting on the other side of the door. On days when Georgie wore her blue-colored contact lenses, we could be sisters by more than marriage. Our height and build and coloring were so similar. Except, the slight cleft in my chin defined mine in a way her smooth slender one did not. I went to the sink and turned on the water, focusing on washing my hands and the sensations of the soap and water on my skin. The things that were real.

  I looked up in the mirror, almost expecting to see what I’d seen last year. Expecting to see black-ringed eyes, a torn dress, and a ponytail slightly askew. Instead, my makeup looked as expertly applied as it had that morning, my silk top was perfect, and my high bun was tight with not a strand out of place.

  “Mac sent Russell away,” Georgie said, her tone musical and light. Beautiful, just like the rest of her.

  “I told him not to,” I said, grabbing a handful of paper towels before turning to face her for real instead of in a reflection.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Sometimes, I hate that question,” I told her honestly, and she nodded. She understood. She’d been through enough ordeals in her own life to get what I meant. “I’m ready to put D.C. behind me.”

  “The change of venue won’t make it go away,” she said.

  “I’m not running from it, Georgie,” I told her, but her eyes said she didn’t entirely believe me.

  I tucked my arm through hers.

  “Let’s get some food to soak up this alcohol with,” I told her.

  She nodded, and we left the restroom together. My future may be up in the air, but there were three things I was certain about: I was done with socializing, I was done with my memories, and I was absolutely done with Washington D.C.

  Nash

  WARRIORS

  “In youth you'd lay,

  Awake at night and scheme,

  Of all the things that you would change.

  But it was just a dream!”

  Performed by Imagine Dragons

  Written by Grant / Reynolds / Mosser / Mckee / Platzman / Sermon

  I was covered in sand. I’d be finding it in parts of me for days, but that wasn’t what had me stewing in a bottomless pit of anger. I stalked into the locker room behind Dainty. I was barely holding my shit together while I watched his bald head dance to the music he had blaring through his headset loud enough I could hear the beat. I wanted to yank the earbuds out and crush them below my boots. The only thing holding me back was the knowledge that this could be my last chance to get back on a team, and I couldn’t afford to lose it.

  I was tired of training undergrads at the Naval Academy. I needed to be back out in the field. I needed to fire my gun at some asshats who continued to wage combat on democracy in the longest war this country had ever seen.

  I stripped off my gear in silence, just like the other members of the team. It was the silence I wasn’t used to. Silver Platoon had been full of stupid jokes and laughter. We’d used the time after each mission as a reminder that what we did couldn’t take away the heart beating inside us. We replaced the monstrosities we’d seen and done with humanity. With life.

  I tossed my muddy, sandy clothes onto the bench and headed for the shower. I stood there, letting the pounding water and the heat soothe my ruffled feathers. I was having to prove myself again. It sucked. No, it more than sucked. It was worse than the time we’d seen maggots eating through the eyes of a man in Afghanistan.

  Proving myself had once been a daily occurrence. It had started with my best friend, Darren, and I withstanding the horrors of training at the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL course, only to find out that what we’d done there meant jack. We’d had to prove ourselves all over again in the even more intensive SEAL Qualification Training followed by jump school and sniper school. After that, we’d had to demonstrate our abilities in every training exercise we did to certify the platoon as being mission ready. But once we’d been on several ops with Silver Squad, and I’d demonstrated I was as much of a perfectionist as the other members of the team, it had eased. Executing the mission had become the priority.

  Darren had done all of it with a laugh and a smile. He’d been impossible to dislike and had bent over backward for those he respected. He’d been the reason people put up with my dumb ass when I had no filter and no bedside manner. Hence my nickname: Nasty. Nash the Nasty Ass Shitty Human.

  I was trying hard not to live up to that nickname on this team. I’d been grateful the brass had finally taken me off the training rotation when this spot on Blue Team came available. I was trying to bring a little of Darren with me and exude it across this group. I was trying to be the better person, and I
was failing because laziness, unearned ego, and an entitlement attitude would forever piss me off. As one of the real newbies on this team, Dainty was full of all of that and more.

  If Darren had been there, he’d be razzing me to remember what it felt like to be brand new out of training. I was letting him down now just as much as I had on the last op. Thoughts of Darren and the last op closed my windpipe down, causing me to gasp for air. I inhaled water and ended up with my hands on the wall, coughing it out.

  The snort next to me had me ripping my eyes open to meet two brown ones.

  Fucking Dainty.

  “How’d you even make it through the prep course?” he griped, rolling his eyes and grabbing for the soap.

  Went to show he didn’t know shit about me, because I’d done my prep at the Naval Academy. I’d done all my pre-qualifications there. I’d lived four years of pre-quals, and I’d beat out every other single person in the academy who’d wanted one of the coveted, guaranteed spots at BUD/S. I had beat every person, except Darren.

  “How’d you make it out of grade school?” I asked, moving out of the shower toward my waiting towel so I wouldn’t show this tool exactly why I’d earned my nickname.

  “It’s no wonder you got your team killed.” He said it quiet enough that I almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the water.

  I wished I hadn’t. The flashes of me picking up parts of my best friend to take him home to his wife filled my head. I turned, wrapping my towel around my waist, and said, “Want to say it again to my face, Dainty?”

  The scorn dripping as I said his nickname had him spinning to face me, hands in tight fists at his side, barely controlled rage rippling through his expression. It was a fury I returned, but you’d never be able to tell it by looking at me. I knew how to hide my emotions. This kid—because that was what he was, some asswipe barely old enough to drink—didn’t know how to control anything.

  Dainty stepped forward. “You’re a disgrace. I’ll never fucking trust you. You shouldn’t even be fucking allowed to keep your budweiser.”

  I’d damn well earned my Trident. I’d earned it with my body, my brain, my gun, and my team. My brothers. The brothers I didn’t have anymore. Four buried. Two quitting. That hurt almost as much as the funerals had. The fact that Bull and Runner had quit on me. SEALs weren’t quitters. It was the whole purpose of our training. To ensure the people who lasted would never quit on the mission or their brothers. But mine had.

  Nightmares of the bodies we’d brought home draped under American flags had caused Bull and Runner to flee. The human carnage was something our training could never prepare us for. Something that would never leave my head. Pounding my Trident into a coffin would never take away the pain.

  I stepped closer to him. “How many missions you been on, Dainty?”

  I already knew the answer. None. Half the team was a bunch of greenhorns. I was only there because the squad’s senior chief had torn an Achilles that would never heal. I was only there because I’d refused to give up.

  Dainty didn’t like me calling him out on his inexperience, though. His face narrowed, and he stepped closer yet again. If he kept coming, I couldn’t guarantee I’d keep my cool.

  “You dropped the boat today,” he smirked.

  Short in stature. Short in brains. Short in between the legs. He had too much to prove, and I couldn’t believe he’d passed the final Trident board evaluation. I hadn’t fucking dropped the boat. He’d let go and waited to see what I would do. When I hadn’t let up, he pushed it, and I’d still almost held on. If the wind hadn’t caught it, I would’ve still been standing.

  “Bet they were all as weak as you. Bet that’s why they came home in body bags.”

  My face didn’t change. My body didn’t move, except for my arm. I swung out and hit his jaw with my closed fist. I saw the surprise in his eyes right before my knuckles collided with his skin. He wasn’t prepared for it, and his feet lost purchase on the slippery tile. He fell back, his head thunking the floor. I hoped it knocked some sense into him.

  “What the hell?” Master Chief said from behind me.

  I turned and walked back to my locker. While I was getting dressed, there was a commotion in the showers as my new team helped Dainty up. Not one of them asked why I’d hit him, but I wasn’t a rat any more than I was going to take his smack about my brothers. The hushed undertones of their voices crawled over my skin. I shoved my dirty clothes into my duffel, stood up, and walked out.

  I already knew what was coming.

  But I wasn’t quitting. They’d have to court-martial me and kick me out. I wasn’t fucking quitting.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  The lights were on as the CarShare pulled up outside the house. The driver was looking at me expectantly in the rearview mirror. I was drunk. Not the best time to show up, but this was where I’d been coming for almost a year now.

  I’d driven to Church Beach in a storm of hurt, anger, and frustration, but I’d known better than to show up in that kind of mood. So, I’d parked my car at a bar and drank my way to my current state, trying to stop my brain from analyzing the twenty different steps behind me and ahead of me.

  “You going to get out?” the driver asked.

  It was past midnight, but I knew she’d still be awake. Like me, she rarely slept.

  I fumbled with the door handle and had barely stepped out before the driver drove off, almost taking my toes with him. I crossed the street and rang the doorbell because my key was buried somewhere in a bag I could barely unzip.

  Molly barked, and I heard her tell the dog to hush as she reached the door. I knew she was looking through the peephole, wondering if she should let me in at this hour. Probably knowing what state I was in before she could even smell it. The locks clicked, and the door opened a fragment of the way. Her entire being was a shadow from the dim light behind her. I couldn’t make out the expression but was sure it was a frown, graceful eyebrows burrowed brushed together.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working on recert with your team?” she asked. Molly, her toy fox terrier, was whining behind her, ready to hurdle into my arms.

  “Just let me in,” I told her. I had a couple of other places I could have landed once I’d left the base. One of them was so foreign to me I wasn’t sure I’d ever belong there again, and the other had a friend who reminded me too much of what I’d lost.

  “How drunk are you that you couldn’t unlock the door?” she asked.

  “It’s been that kind of day, Tristan.”

  She sighed but opened the door wider. “Don’t wake the baby.”

  She was saying it to me as much as to Molly who was already jumping at me to pick her up. I did, and she licked my face as I ran my hands over her body.

  “Hey, Molly-Molls. Miss me?”

  Molly had been a new addition to the household right before our last mission. Puppy training had been the last thing on Tristan’s mind after it, and I’d taken over the job as much to occupy my time as to help. Molly had kept me from drowning in my regrets.

  I followed Tristan into the tiny living space which was littered with baby stuff. A swing, a bouncy chair, toys, and a pile of baby clothes needing to be folded on an overstuffed, turquoise couch. I’d been with them when Tristan and Darren had bought the couch down in Tampa. They’d argued over the color until Darren had smiled and just let her buy it.

  I turned back to my best friend’s widow to find her standing with her arms across her chest, glaring at me.

  Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun—pretty much the only way I’d seen her for almost a year. The shadows under her eyes were more pronounced because of the one lamp she had on. Everything was shadowed. Even her golden eyes, normally as golden as her hair, were a dark outline in her pale face. They’d all been golden. Darren. Her. The baby.

  Now, there was only a specter left and a baby who giggled like pure light.

  Tristan’s feet were bare, and she had on
leggings with holes in them. Ones she never would have worn before…back when she cared what she looked like for Darren. But what made my breath get caught in my chest was the SEAL team T-shirt she wore.

  The hell I was living? It wasn’t anything compared to hers. I’d lost my brother. The one person I probably loved most on this whole planet, and yet, I still hadn’t loved him as she had. Body, soul, mind. They’d been the epitome of America’s heartland. Bulletin board cutouts of what America was supposed to be.

  She sank onto the couch, pulling at the laundry pile and folding a shirt so small it barely fit her hand. Molly squiggled to be put down. I complied, and she ran, jumping into the pile of clean clothes.

  “Get off, you wild dog,” Tristan said, pushing her away.

  “I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head, and I made my way to the kitchen. Molly came scrabbling after me. Their home had always been my home. Even when I’d basically lived with Angie for a few months, Darren and Tristan’s place had still felt like the only spot I could truly be me. Truly take off my body armor and let down my guard.

  I knew this house better than my own these days. The kitchen and living area were on the ground floor with two bedrooms upstairs. The basement was furnished with a sleeper couch and Darren’s unopened boxes. Whenever I was here, that was my place. It wasn’t a punishment, even when it felt that way, staring at the boxes with his shit in it, but the second bedroom upstairs was Tristan’s studio. The baby shared the main bedroom with her mama.

  I handed Molly a treat from the container Tristan kept on the counter before I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and returned to the living room. My eyes caught on a set of pictures which had been hung on the wall below the staircase since I’d been gone. The first was a picture of their wedding day. Darren and I both in our dress uniforms, Tristan in a dress so full it would have made Cinderella jealous. The other pictures showcased their life together as teens and our life together since I’d become a secondary member of their family. Every picture stabbed at me.