I paused. “String Bean?”
Dutch’s voice sounded without his presence in my field of vision. “A loving nickname the guys gave me because they’re jealous of my legs.”
I grinned as I shook my head. “Hey, Troop?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
I felt his lips press into the top of my head. “No problem, pretty girl.”
His nickname warmed me to my core before a soft, warm light illuminated my right side. I peered over my shoulder, watching Dutch’s ocean blue eyes sparkle like the blond tendrils of his disheveled hair. His high cheekbones always made him look like he was smirking, even with his thin lips downturned into the heavy frown that sat upon his face.
He held up the oil lamp he carried and came to take up Troop’s position beside me on the edge of the bed.
“An oil lamp, huh? Pretty old school, if you ask me,” I said as I turned my stare back to the wall.
He sat it at his feet. “Not everything that’s old is useless.”
I snickered. “My father would put that on a wall somewhere if he ever heard you say it.”
“He’s fiery. I don’t doubt it one bit.”
I heaved a heavy sigh. “So, you need me for something?”
He slid a backpack off his shoulders that I hadn’t even clocked. Man, I was getting rough at that.
“How are you doing?” Dutch asked.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, for someone whose world has been flipped upside down.”
He unzipped the top part of the bag. “I figured you’d want to see the pictures. Or, maybe look at the videos that I took.”
“Do I really, though?”
He pulled out a camera. “I don’t know. You tell me. I’ve got it all right here, should you wish to see it.”
As he held the camera over my lap, I couldn’t help but look down. His long, dexterous fingers clicked mindlessly through the snapshots, and the more I saw, the more my stomach turned itself into knots. There were photos of him and Dogturd—at least, that’s what I called him—laughing outside of his place of work like nothing was wrong.
Like I hadn’t gone missing.
Like I hadn’t dropped off the face of the planet.
“I hate that man,” I murmured.
“Dogma?” Dutch asked.
I groaned. “You know why they call him that?”
“They didn’t go over the story, from what I heard.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Because he’s a stubborn fucking white man who never progressed in his career because he felt he had to sell out in order to do it. And anything that goes against his incontrovertible ways is somehow a lesser truth than the way he’s lived his life for its entirety.”
“Wow.”
I shrugged. “It’s their way of making fun of the man, but he wears it like a badge of honor. It’s so strange.”
“Do you want me to keep going?”
