Bullet shares the same curious glance at Pidge, who frowns deeply. “No one.”
“No,” I snap suddenly. “You can’t say something like that and not tell me more. And don’t you dare tell me it’s not your story to tell because I just…I just covered myself in his blood to keep him alive, I did things I would never even think of, and now we don’t know if he’s ever going to wake up, so just…who is she?”
Rex returns from the kitchen with several prepackaged sandwiches and dumps them in front of Bullet. “Eat,” he says firmly. “You’re the only one with Falco’s blood type.”
Bullet grumbles while I hold Pidge’s gaze in a heated glare until he shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe it’ll piss him off so much it wakes him up. Gina was his ex.”
“Girlfriend?” Bullet asks between mouthfuls.
“Fiancée.”
My heart lurches. Falco had a fiancée? Never once has he mentioned, or even hinted, that he was ever that close to anyone.
“Falco’s PTSD is severe, surprising no one. We’ve all got it, right? Jumping at shadows, not sleeping, not eating, nightmares, tension all the damn time.”
As Pidge talks, I match each sign to what I know of Falco. His lack of sleep stands out the most, and the fact that he’s always tense. On the drive up here, he did reveal that he’s always on edge. Given his years in the military, who can blame him?
“From what I understand, Gina was something of a childhood sweetheart. Met before he signed up or something. She was loyal to him for every tour, or so he thought, until he came home early from his last ever tour and found her in bed with some other guy.”
Bullet grumbles something incoherent into his sandwich while Rex moves to the doorway, peering through the darkness to keep an eye on Falco.
“Anyway, he forgave her because he loved her and wanted to work things out. It was fine for a little while until one night he had a nightmare so severe, he woke up to himself strangling her. She stayed by his side, claiming to be understanding and forgiving. The way he described it to me was that she made him feel like there was light at the end of the tunnel. But that samenight, after he fell back asleep, she snuck away to meet up with her bastard lover and was killed by a drunk driver. Falco blames himself. Has done ever since, and I’m pretty sure he’s just spent his entire life waiting for the bullet of retribution.”
Falco…blames himself? How could he do that when none of it was his fault? My confusion must have been clear on my face because Pidge continues.
“He blames himself for scaring her. He thought that if he’d beennormaland healthy, he wouldn’t have scared her into the arms of that bastard and she would still be alive.”
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
Falco’s leaning into me only to suddenly push me away, all his attempts to keep me at arm’s length making me think I’m going crazy about whether or not he’s interested in me. The fact that he always keeps himself on edge and alert, even tonight when he wasn’t even sleeping, and it saved my life.
It’s like his resolve cracks every so often and he caves, then he corrects himself. He’s either scared of repeating past mistakes, or he feels like he can’t trust himself.
How twisted it is that I understand him more now that he’s at death’s door.
“That’s awful,” I murmur. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”
“We’ve all been there,” Rex says grimly. “We’ve all got baggage like that. Makes us perfect for the mafia. It’s familiar. Killing is easy. Protection is easy. The threats are the same.”
If he survives, I’m going to say something.
Doesn’t matter what he says or does in response. If he survives, then I want him to know that someone cares about him as a person and not as a bodyguard.
Running one hand down my face, I wrestle with the urge to yawn.
“You need to sleep,” Bullet says, watching me over his third sandwich.
“How can I sleep when he’s like that?”
“You saved his life. There’s nothing more you can do now. Let me take care of him. You need rest.”
“Text your family though,” Pidge says suddenly. “Not now, but when you wake up. Falco can’t be moved, which means you need to find a way to ensure we’re not disturbed by anyone.”
I nod slowly and stand. “Won’t that just tell whoever is trying to kill me that I’ve survived this?”
“By morning they’ll already know,” Rex replies, jerking his head toward the back porch. “They’ll have been dead for hours, and whoever sent them will figure that out. But if you act normal, then we can imply that Falco got to them without alerting you. Makes him seem more dangerous and buys us some time.”
“Okay,” I nod again. “Makes sense.”
