“Did you know I didn’t know Riley before all his shit went down? We were on the same base, so I knew of him, but that was it. I heard about him the same way Matt did. He really is a legend. I heard he was building a team, and being the mature fangirl I was, thought working under him would be the coolest thing ever. I followed him to the tank field with no idea what he was actually looking for. Somehow, my dumbass, who had never even been in a tank before, convinced him I was not only an amazing driver, but a sharpshooter with the tanks weapon system—wow that is blinding,” Mikey lifts his leg into the air, eyeing the almost neon color now meticulously painted on five of his toe nails.
“Where was I? Oh yeah. I don’t know if he saw through it or not, but he told me he wanted to see what I could do and sent me to bring it out. Please remember, I am a dumbass who was just trying to impress a total stranger. I knew a few of the guys working in the garage and got them to give me the gist of how to run it. I didn’t understand the best and somehow turned just enough to plow through the wall between two huge bay doors.”
“Oh my god! When he said you drove a tank into a building, I thought he meant, like, outside. I can’t believe you crashed just pulling it out,” she says through the laughter bubbling out of her.
“Hey, I own my mistakes. I apologized to everyone and admitted what I did to Riley right away. He found me the next day sweeping the sun off the sidewalk so a crew could rebuild without it getting in their way, called me Tank, and told me he was taking me for his spec ops team.” He beams, kicking his feet back and forth at the sight of them.
“How the hell did you manage to be the luckiest person ever?” she teases, pushing his feet away from her.
They spend the rest of the night telling stories and eating toomuch junk food. With every laugh the stress fades, feeling lighter as the night goes on. Mikey tells her about all the times he got Riley to leave his cave and enjoy life. Hearing how they progressed from co-workers to best friends warms her heart. Meanwhile, Liz tells stories about all the trouble she got into as a teenager, trying to run from her problems and tells him only the best stories of her past life. Eventually, they both start to fade, curling up on opposite sides of the couch while the third twilight movie plays in the background. Her eyes drift close, letting the sounds of vampires fighting werewolves lull her to sleep.
Morning comes too fast. The moment the alarm blares from Mikey’s phone at 6 a.m., the throbbing in her head makes her regret drinking the entire bottle of wine. Rolling off the couch, Liz pads down the hallway to find Mikey already in his room, packing a bag, still shirtless with his cow print pajamas on. Flopping onto his plush mattress, she watches him pack, knowing she only has a few minutes before he will send her to do the same.
“What do you call an Italian hooker?” she asks, sliding off the bed. “A pasta-tute”
Not a single laugh from him, just a shake of his head and a smile that reaches his eyes. His whole face looks brighter, more relaxed after their night together. They both needed it. The endless hours of stories and talking about what is bothering them took a huge weight from their shoulders. Before she can stop, Liz presses against him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
“Thank you. Last night was perfect.” She gives him one quick squeeze before dashing to her room and tossing a small luggage bag onto her bed. She takes her time, carefully picking out everything she will need, hoping they won’t be stuck staying at the base long.
After filling the bag with enough clothes to last her two weeks, she takes out a second one, stuffing sneakers, boots, and her favorite sandals into it before grabbing all her soaps from the bathroom and dumping them on top. A few personal items manage to find their way into the bags. Her pillow, a throw blanket, her kindle, and one of Riley’s t-shirts that still faintly smells like him. She picks up her last empty bag and darts across the hall. Hoping he doesn’t get mad she is invading his personal space, Liz grabs a few things from Riley’s dresser, placing everything into the bag neatly. As she is about to leave, the small frame with their photo catches her eye. She snatches it from its place next to the bed and places it on top of his clothes before leaving their home behind.
The new room at the base is not nearly as cozy as the one Riley had claimed at the Nevada base. Even as plain as he had it, there was still a touch of life, still someone’s home. The layout is nearly identical. The door opens to a living room, a kitchenette tucked to the side, the only difference is the large closet right off the living room. Two bedrooms line the other wall: one holding bunk beds, the other a full-size bed with a bathroom in between the rooms.
“You take the single room,” Mikey says, heading right for the smaller room and tossing his bags inside. “I’m good with a bunk. Ry is going to need the big bed when he gets home.”
“Are you sure? You do realize I’m just going to be moving in with you when he gets here right? We don’t know what they are doing to him or what kind of head space he will be in. The last thing we need to be worrying about is what our relationship is… or isn’t,”” Liz says.
A deep sadness fills her. That is exactly what she wants, to figure out their relationship, to know what is going on betweenthem, even if it’s the least of her worries. She can’t help it, she needs to focus on the trivial things like that, if not, the endless barrage of thoughts of what he is enduring will devour her. So, she focuses on anything else. How is she going to sleep at night knowing he is lying in the next room? What if all her anxiety was for a good reason and he comes back loathing her very existence? Will she be able to handle that level of rejection? What if he doesn’t hate her, but if what he is going through changes everything between them?
“Hey! Get out of there!” a booming voice shouts, making her jump. “I know where you’re going, and you need to knock it off,” Mikey adds.
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,” Liz says, genuine confusion dancing across her face.
“You were making that face: the one where your eyebrows look sad, and you kind of push your lips out like a fish. Whenever you make that face, you get lost in your shitty thoughts. You retreat into your mind. We leave in a few hours, and I need you in tip top shape while you’re here. This is the first time you’re going to be without one of us. You should try to find something to do in your downtime. Maybe spruce the place up so Ry doesn’t come back to a shit hole.” He stops in his tracks, turning to his smaller bag and mumbling something under his breath. He pulls out a small, black card and hands it to her. It is almost identical to the one Riley gave her for her shopping spree, the only difference being her name is etched onto the front rather than his. “I meant to give that to you sooner, but so much happened. Riley told me something about getting you all squared away. I don’t know, I wasn’t listening, but I think he got your paperwork submitted and got an account set up so you can start getting your pay.”
His words hit her like a train. She has money, a job, a life. For the first time in years, she has something of her own,something she can be proud of. She slips the card into her pocket and tries not to cry. It has been so long since she has had this much freedom. She has spent years being controlled by others, whether it was her grief, her capture, or being held hostage by the general, something else was always in control. Liz knows if she dares to speak the tears will come flooding out. She brings her bags into the other room, setting them on the large bed. It looks too much like Riley’s room in Nevada, the one now most likely destroyed, thanks to her. Shoving the building guilt down as far as she can, Liz carefully unpacks Riley’s clothes, placing them in the dresser next to the door. Her own bedding gets sloppily put on the bed, and her own clothes stay in her bags which get tossed into the closet. The only items that hold any significance to her get handled with the utmost care. She slides Riley’s shirt onto a pillow, hoping and praying he doesn’t find it creepy. The small, framed picture gets placed on the nightstand next to the bed.
With only a few hours left until almost the entire team leaves without her, Liz gets to work. Mikey has left to go make sure all their gear is ready and the rest of the preparations are made. The whole trip is pointless. Whenever she thinks of them going, she gets a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. They won’t find him. Something is preventing his rescue, and Liz is going to figure out what, or better yet, who. She has approximately ten days from when they leave to when they get back, giving her nine to figure out who is screwing them over and how to convince them to let her go on the next mission.
CHAPTER 8
By her fifth day alone, Liz has found her groove. She sneaks out early to workout, takes her meals back to her room to avoid the soldiers trying to talk to her in the mess hall. She became friendly enough with one of the other sergeants, Lauren, to join her unit on their air tactic training, allowing her to still learn and work toward her thirty solo jumps. Although that may have just been the work of Mikey, not wanting to float down to Earth with her strapped to his chest again. While trying to do what he asked and be friendly with Matt, she can’t help but avoid him And when sheisaround him, she snaps. Today is the day that needs to change. Mikey kept his word, texting her as much as he is able, just to let her know they are alive. When she sees Matt in line at the mess hall, she knows it’s time for her to keep hers.
“Hi,” she squeaks out, picking up a to-go box from where they sit next to the trays. He looks up at her, eyes going wide in shock.
“Holy shit, did you just talk to me?” he asks, smiling so wide the dimples on his cheeks show. “Don’t make me change my mind,” she says. Her eyes bounce from one steaming tray to thenext, waves of spices filling the air, making it hard to decide on what to eat. Her stomach growls loudly as she peers to the salad bar.
“I already figured that was all I was getting out of you,” he says with a casual shrug.
“Actually, I was going to ask if we could talk. I’m not eating here, but I guess you could come back and have lunch in my room if you want,” she says.
Her heart pounds in her ears, not wanting to see his reaction to her words, she moves down the line, placing a piece of baked chicken into her box. Mouth already watering at the smell of the herbs wafting around, she quickly adds a scoop of brown rice, sliding further away. Matt is next to her a moment later, filling his own container with two heaping scoops of chicken pot pie. They stay silent while Liz finishes up, adding roasted carrots and broccoli to her meal before closing it and walking off.
The scrape of Matt’s boots tell her he isn’t far behind. Her hands tremble as he approaches, darting ahead to hold the door open. She rushes through the lot, trying to make it back to her room before her mind changes. The sounds of boots stomping in perfect unison and jeeps speeding by keeps her focus, anything but having to have lunch with someone she can’t stand.
The door to her room creaks open. The light flickers on, and she steps into the depressing, standard issue living space. The sharp whistle behind her has her rethinking every decision she has ever made. Unable to help what happens next, a sharp sigh escapes, and she turns on him.
“Problem?” she snaps
