“Okay. Then I’ll be the rebound.”
I choke on a laugh. “Excuse me?”
He holds up both hands like he’s innocent, but there’s a wicked grin at the corner of his mouth.
“Relax. I don’t mean, like, now. Or even soon. But, you know—whenever you stop looking at the door like he’s gonna come back.”
My heart stumbles.
I don’t say anything because I’m not sure I can.
Torres nods to the protein bar in my hand. “Still haven’t eaten it.”
“I was going to.”
“Sure.” He plucks it from my palm, tears it open, and holds it to my lips. “Let me feed you like a princess since no one else is stepping the fuck up.”
I bite it before I can stop myself.
Chew. Swallow. Try not to laugh.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m romantic,” he argues. “You just haven’t seen the full deployment dating experience yet.”
I arch a brow. “Oh yeah? What’s that involve?”
He squints like he’s thinking hard. “Well, let’s see. No flowers, but I can get you extra wet wipes. No chocolate, but I’ll trade two Red Bulls and a mystery snack for a five-minute break under the shade tarp.”
I huff out a laugh.
“What about music?”
He points to a busted comms unit in the corner. “I’ll rig the static into something that sounds like Frank Sinatra.”
“And dancing?”
He grins. “Only if you don’t mind three left feet and my rifle strapped between us.”
I’m smiling before I realise it. Smiling too hard. Smiling like someone who wants to forget.
Fuck.
I don’t want to forget Dax. I just want him to fight for me but he’s not here.
Not really. Not where it counts. Not anymore.
And Torres?
He’s not trying to replace him. He’s not trying to fix me.
He’s just trying to make me laugh.
That might be the cruelest kindness of all.
He sits on the edge of the cot beside mine.
Pops open a can of something lukewarm and probably expired.
