“I’m fine. I’m fucking fine. Nobody died.”
“Then…what?” The concern in his voice pulled at her, making her want nothing other than to lean on him for support.
She pointed at the screen of the computer. “You were right, Lyons. Fucking right. Scott’s a damn douche bag.”
It killed her to admit Lyons was right about Scott. It gutted her to admit it at all. This was huge. Her team was tight. They didn’t spillthe secrets of their lives, but this would be a bomb blowing up the integrity of the team. They’d all be looking at her, wondering if her head was screwed on straight and worried about her combat readiness.
Well, she wasn’t some weak-as-shit female who was going to fall apart because she’d gotten a goddamn Dear John letter. Her hand trembled as she ran it against the smoothness of her hair. Not a Dear John letter. She was the victim of a Dear Jane email. Shit, more fat globs of weakness spilled from her eyes.
“T? What the hell is this?” Lyons asked.
“Did you read it?”
“No. I’m not going to read your mail.”
She turned the computer toward him and pointed. “Read it. Read the damn letter, and get yourI told you sos over and done with.”
Fine tremors had her hands shaking. Her stomach was in full revolt, too, threatening to bring up all the calories she’d shoveled down not moments before. The room seemed smaller. The air thicker. She couldn’t fucking breathe.
“I’m out of here,” she pronounced.
Lyons leaned in and scanned the screen. “Shit, T. That’s the worst.”
She practically vaulted out of her seat, intent on getting some air. It was hot as hell outside, but at least she’d be able to breathe. It was too stuffy in the chow hall. And she didn’t need any nosy eyes watching a major cry. Already, she was drawing stares.
Lyons closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm. He was up and beside her before she took three steps.
“Leave me alone,” she said, yanking her arm out of his grip.
He took hold of her arm and steered her around a table full of young airmen. “Keep your shit together, T,” he said, lowering his voice.
“My shit is locked up tight,” she countered.
With pressure on her arm, he propelled her toward the exit. Her throat was closing up, tightening with the sobs she wanted to spill.
“No, you’re losing it. And everyone is interested in the major with connections to Angel Fire. Now, move.”
She headed outside. The ever-present dust created a haze and washed out the sun. Just past noon, they were coming into the worst heat of the day. A wall of heat slammed into her, making her stumble. She tried to shrug out of Lyons’s grip, but he tightened his fingers.
“Let me go,” she said with a growl.
“Not until we talk this out.”
“I’m not talking anything out with you.”
“Yes, you are.” The calm confidence of his voice nearly had her caving in, giving him what he demanded. Except it wasn’t a demand. The pain ripping across his face mirrored the ache in her heart.
She pulled up short and ripped her arm away from the tightness of his grip. Somehow, he’d taken them around the corner of the building. There was a little shade but no relief from the heat. And there were no people.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she said, “but just fucking stop!”Stop being so damn nice, she wanted to scream. She needed to hate men right now, not feel their comfort, and most specifically, she didn’t need to be comforted by Lyons. “Let me have a moment alone.”
“You don’t need alone, T. You need a friend.”
A friend? Who the hell was he kidding?They were the furthest thing from friends. Teammates, they shared a professional relationship. The rigors of their job made that connection tighter and closer thanfamily at times, but Lyons, with his insufferable flirting ensured friendship was impossible.
“I don’t need a friend. I need…” Shit, what did she need?
Scott had found someone else, and there was no doubt in her mind the reason behind his letter. Scott was an ass. A total douche-bag. He’d cheated, probably had been sleeping with whomever it was for some time. What had started out as a lonely fuck for him turned serious between their last email exchange and when he wrote that god-awful message.
