I grabbed another piece of meat, prepared to make a cut. Before I could, I was startled by a sound.Pow!My mindscrambled. Before I could get a complete understanding of the sound, it happened again.Pow!
My body reacted.Low . . . scan . . . breathe . . . communicate.“Burgundy, female, your ten.”
My breathing was controlled, or so I thought.Scan . . . breathe . . . communicate.“Her gait is off. Stop her.”
“Hey. Hey.” The voice was low, in the distance. Who was it? Where was it coming from? Was it someone in my comm?
A face came into my scope. A familiar face. “Winters.” His voice was steady and firm.
“Winters, you’re here with Dawson. You’re on the farm.Plasters,Georgia, Major Road,” he said.
Plasters,Georgia. The farm?I felt my head tilt ever so slight to the side. His face wasn’t in focus yet. I heard him tell me that I was safe. My eyes slowly focused.
His hand laid flat on his chest. “Look at me, Winters.” When I shied away, his voice became firmer, but not louder. “Staff Sergeant.”
That pulled me in. I caught his gaze. Panic still sat on my chest.
He stepped closer to me. He moved so slowly that it was almost as if he wasn’t moving at all. His hand reached out, and two fingers lifted my chin. His eyes were soft.
“Breathe.” He inhaled slowly and controlled. He held it, then he exhaled. He continued to do it until I caught on.
I started to mimic his behavior. I wasn’t sure how long we did that before I felt words at the top of my tongue. “There was?—”
I was cut off by his words. “I know. Keep breathing, Winters. Count with me. Come on and tell me three things you see.”
My vision was blurry. I closed them tight, then blinked a few times to focus. I looked around.
“Um, table,” I said.
“Okay. Something else.”
“Vince,” I named.
“Yep, that’s him. One more,” Vic instructed softly.
“The display case.” I felt my breathing slow. Not much, but enough to count.
“Look at me, beautiful.” When my eyes focused on him, he smiled softly. “Three things you feel.”
“Um, my apron, the floor.” I stopped and glanced down. “Your shirt.” I didn’t realize that I grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Good, love. You’re okay. You’re here with me at the butcher shop. You’re safe,” he assured me. “You’re not there anymore.”
Exhaustion came over me. I was so tired. “I don’t like this,” I confessed softly.
“I know, but it’s okay.” When he tried to pull me in, I slightly recoiled. He allowed me to.
I sighed. I was annoyed with myself. “I should have done better with that.”
His eyes were soft with his smile. “You did good, love. You came back to me.”
His words did something to me. He placed his flat palm against my cheek, and I let him. My face leaned into his hand. “I’m here, not there.”
“Exactly. You’re here with me. Right where I want and need you to be,” he said genuinely.
Slowly, we stood together. My hand still gripped his shirt. In that moment, we weren’t two soldiers. We weren’t Winters and Dawson. We were Vic and Minnow.
Less Than a Week Later
