I can’t.
And then I walk out. The noise of the party hits me all at once, but it feels distant, muffled, like I’m underwater. No one stops me. No one notices. I don’t stop moving until I’m outside, the cool night air hitting my face like a slap.
Only then do I finally stop and breathe. And only then do I realize—Everything just changed.
CHAPTER
TWO
GARRISON—TWO YEARS LATER
The barracks smelllike sweat and detergent. Same as always. I sit on the edge of my bunk, elbows on my knees, staring at the scuffed floor while the guys argue over something stupid—fantasy football, I think. Or maybe it’s about whose turn it is to clean the shared bathroom.
Could be either. Could be both.
“Garrison.”
I don’t look up.
“Garrison,” Carter repeats, louder this time, like I’m hard of hearing instead of just not interested.
I drag my gaze up slowly. “What.”
He grins at me from across the room, leaning back in his chair like he’s got nothing better to do than be a problem. “You even alive over there?”
“Barely,” I mutter.
A couple of the guys snort.
“Man’s been like this all week,” Torres adds, tossing a sock at me. It lands near my boot and stays there. “You finally break a woman’s heart or something?”
That gets more attention. A few heads turn. A few grins spread.
I lean back slightly, bracing my hands behind me. “That would require me actually talking to women.”
“Exactly,” Carter shoots back. “Which is why this is concerning.”
Laughter ripples through the room.
I shake my head, but there’s no heat in it. “You all talk too much.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Torres says, waving a hand. “Deflect all you want. But I’ve known you how long now?”
“Too long.”
“Exactly. And in all that time?” He points at me like he’s making a case in court. “Not once have you talked about a girl. Not once.”
“Maybe I don’t kiss and tell.”
That earns a chorus of exaggerated groans.
“Please,” Carter scoffs. “You don’t even kiss.”
More laughter.
I force a smirk, because that’s what they expect. “Keep talking, Carter. I’ll make you regret it on the next run.”
“Threats,” he says, holding his hands up. “Classic avoidance behavior.”
