Stung, but unwilling to give up, I inched closer until I was breathing against her forehead. “You woke up in my bed, sweetheart. It doesn’t get much more personal than that.”
Her eyes hardened. “It was just a stupid nightmare.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” I snapped. “I’ve seen that shit enough times to know when it’s more than a nightmare. Half the brothers in this place would recognize what you were doing. Something’s haunting you. Something happened. Tell me about it. Please.”
I released her wrist, but instead of bolting for the door, she took another shaky breath and scooted back, sitting against the headboard. Kicking her legs free of the tangled blankets, she pulled them up to cover her nakedness. I didn’t think she was going to talk, but being half asleep with the memory lingering must have destroyed her defenses, because she surprised me with a nod and a self-deprecating chuckle. Her gaze went back to the door.
“Something happened. I guess you could say that. It was supposed to be a standard CSAR op. There were three wounded. I touched down so we could load them up, parking us right in the middle of a fuckin’ ambush. Insurgents attacked from all sides. I tried to get us back in the air, but they shot out the rotor, disabling it. I radioed for help, and another Pedro was coming, but we needed to hold out until he got there.” Her gaze never left the door, her eyes haunted as she tugged the blankets up further.
I listened, waiting for her to continue.
“God, there had to be at least thirty of them and we weren’t positioned or manned for that shit. We had limited shelter, especially the PJs—the pararescuemen—who went out to collect the injured. With the helo grounded, I joined the team, trying to hold off the insurgents. They just kept coming. One of the PJs, a guy by the name of Michaels, was mowed down almost immediately, along with the wounded he was trying to help.”
Still staring straight ahead, I knew she was seeing it all again, wondering what she could have done differently. I was so goddamn familiar with that look it made my insides ache. I wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but I forced myself to stay still. Afraid she’d clam up if I made the slightest move.
“They took out Stevenson next. He was another PJ, and a friend. One of the good guys… married with a two-year-old little boy. He and his wife used to have me over for dinner sometimes. He was crouched maybe two feet from me when it happened. One second he was holding his own, and the next he was riddled with bullets. The body armor didn’t do shit. Blood was everywhere. His eyes…” She blinked back tears and took another deep, shaky breath. “He knew he was dying. Hell, I thought we were all going to die. Fucking strange the way the attack felt like it all happened in slow motion, but Stevenson’s death was instantaneous. He was looking up at me like he wanted my help but knew there wasn’t shit I could do, then he was gone.”
People understand the fundamentals of death. We know what happens to the body as the lungs stop taking in oxygen, the mind quiets, and the heart stills, but we’re still so goddamn arrogant we think we can stop it. After Genie’s death, I’d spent many nights awake thinking about how shit would have gone down differently if I’d been with her. About how I could have saved her. Protected her. But deep down, I knew it was bullshit. When the reaper comes, even the most skilled doctors stand aside helpless.
Death takes who it wants and there’s not a goddamn thing we can do about it.
And really, what the fuck were our skills and knowledge worth if we couldn’t even protect the people we loved? What the hell did we even serve for?
I’d seen the same expression etched into Naomi’s face while I was staring at myself in the mirror. I understood her pain and frustration. I knew firsthand what that helplessness felt like.
Naomi swiped angrily at her eyes. “I thought I was going to die. I know there’s always that possibility, but it seemed surreal until Stephenson fell. We were being overrun. There was no escape. I felt every heartbeat in my chest, every breath in my lungs, and I knew the next one could be my last. If that helo had been one minute later… I don’t know if any of us would have survived. As it was, we lost two PJs and two of the three wounded we were supposed to be rescuing. But I fucking made it.” Blinking back tears, she lowered her head. “And for the life of me, I can’t make sense of why.”
The need to comfort and protect her intensified. I had to fight for all I was worth not to wrap my arms around her. She wasn’t done talking, and she needed to finish… to get it all out. I could bite my tongue and give her that. I had to.
“You know what the really fucked-up part of it is?” she asked, finally turning to face me, her eyes full of pain and self-loathing.
There were so many fucked up parts of death in combat I couldn’t even hazard a guess. I shook my head. “Tell me.”
“Every time I wake up from that nightmare, I’m glad they got Stevenson and not me. He was a husband and a father and my friend. I wasn’t even two feet from him. If they’d focused their fire on me and not him, he’d still be here, and I wouldn’t. And some selfish, disgusting part of me is glad he’s dead because it means I’m alive.”
Her confession evoked something deep within me. No, it wasn’t the confession. It was the admission that she’d been knocking on death’s door. That she’d been terrified her time had come. My vision swam, and another scene stretched in front of me. An overturned AAV, bodies and blood-soaked shrapnel everywhere. Searching for my woman. I recognized the dark curls. She was lying on her side, one arm gone, a beam through her stomach. Heart in my throat, I circled the carnage, praying it wouldn’t be her.
But this time, instead of Genie’s face, I saw Naomi’s.
I’d lost Genie, but I refused to lose Naomi. She wasn’t even mine to keep safe, but the idea of her dying twisted me up in knots. Needing to touch her, I pulled her onto my lap. She startled at first, dropping the covers and bracing her hands on my shoulders like she was about to push me away.
“Please?” I croaked out, my voice thick with emotion.
Her gaze met mine. There was so much pain in her beautiful brown eyes it almost hurt to look at her. I wondered if she saw the same pain when she looked at me. It united us, somehow. Bound us. She dropped her hands from my shoulders, lowered her head to my chest, and her body curved around mine. She let me hold her in her brokenness, and it was an honor I didn’t take lightly. It felt like trust and connection. I couldn’t protect her from the past, but she was letting me shield her from the present. Deep sobs wracked through her, freeing every single protective instinct I’d spent the past six years locking away. By the time her tears dried up, I lacked the resolve to release her. Possibly ever again.
She’d almost died.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Not again. Not to Naomi. I’d do anything to keep her safe.
“Don’t go back,” I pleaded against her forehead. “Get out while you still can.”
She tensed.
Knowing by her reaction that I’d fucked up—that I’d gone too far—I tried again. “You’ve done your time, risked your life, stay here. With me.”
“I can’t.”
