She didn’t want to help. A shower called to her. That and sleep. Never could get enough sleep in this place, but they were a team, and she wouldn’t rest until all the work was done.
Somewhere along the way, she’d lost track of Skye. Despite her friend’s actions in the field, Skye hadn’t accompanied them back to base in the helicopters. Instead, Skye had been forced to stay behind—althoughforcedmight be too strong of a word. Tia doubted anyone could’ve pried Ash from her side.
“Have they given us lodging yet?” she asked as she plopped down on the floor. Her knee brushed Lyons’s, and where before she would’ve discreetly pulled away, she savored the connection, as small as it was.
Lyons placed a hand on her knee, followed by the cut of Warren’s gaze. “How are you holding up, Tia?” Lyons asked.
“You know, just another day in hell.”
Warren snorted. “Now, ain’t that the truth?” He unfolded his legs and stood, stretching out his back. “What do you say, the two of you finish up here while I figure out where they’re putting us for the night?”
He left, rushing out a bit too quickly—or maybe that was her imagination.Did he suspect something?He shouldn’t. It wasn’t the first time Lyons had reassured her with a touch. Hell, she’d let Warren hold her in his arms once or twice after they lost a soldier. It was all part and parcel of being a well-integrated team.
After Warren was out of earshot, Lyons leaned close. “Really, how are you holding up?” He cupped her chin and turned her toward him. The pad of his finger swept across her lips.
He’d seen combat before. She’d only ever seen the aftermath. Her entire body vibrated with a surge of adrenaline; even her teeth seemed to buzz.
“To be honest,” she admitted, “and please don’t judge what I’m about to say…”
He squeezed her knee, moving his hand partway up her thigh. “No judgment.”
“I was happy there were wounded.” She glanced at the ceiling and vented a deep sigh. “I know that’s a horrible thing to say and so very wrong. I should never wish something like that on another person, but…”
“I understand,” he said.
“You do?”
“It’s easier to be busy than to think of what might have happened.”
“Yes,” she said, happy he understood. “It’s like I was on autopilot. I didn’t have to think. I just did…”
“You were in shock,” he affirmed. “Might still be, in all honesty. Now that you have time, your mind is processing. I saw how you volunteered to run anesthesia for that surgery. Keeping busy lets you keep your mind off what happened, but you need to talk about it.”
“But that’s just it,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to wash it away and sleep it off.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. “In fact, I insist.”
“Insist?”
“Yes, you and I are going to find a place to talk this through.”
She didn’t think the two of them alone together would lead to talking.
“What’s there to talk about? The bus nearly blew up. I could have died, or you…” She couldn’t finish that thought.
They both could have died—or worse. One of them could’ve lost a leg, like that boy in the OR nearly had. She’d seen enough trauma to last her a hundred years, and she was sick to death of it.
What she didn’t want was to be one of the trauma statistics, and that by itself had the fine hairs on her arms standing on end. Sheshivered with a chill crawling down her spine. Her breaths huffed in and out, but no matter how hard she breathed, she couldn’t get any air. Her vision tunneled inward, blacking out at the edges, and pinpricks tingled at her lips.
“Tia,” Lyons said. “Tia!”
Warmth enfolded her. Strength flowed into her. Lyons’s warm, musky odor infiltrated her nostrils and had her eyelids slamming shut. Her cheeks were wet. Globs of tears spilled down her face. She swiped at them, even as Lyons gripped her against his chest. His massive paw of a hand cupped her neck and cradled her against his shoulder.
“Shh,” he soothed, “you’re safe.”
Footsteps sounded.
“Oh,” came a voice.
