Persuasions and justifications strangled him.
Just one.
Who would it hurt?
He deserved this.
Why does it even matter?
One drink wouldn’t ruin everything.
They pulled at his spine, dragging him closer and closer to those boxes. Ones so full no one would miss a bottle. His knees locked as he swayed toward their orbit, the last dregs of his stubbornness holding fast.
Gabriel shook his head and walked faster, stretching his fingers out from where they’d gone white from clenching so hard. He could feel eyes on him. No one had said anything, but they didn’t have to. He’d been with his team long enough to know exactly what they were thinking. The others, too. They’d quietly whispered platitudeshe’ll be fine.Or worse, the questions. Why did it matter if Blake went? They all had to do their share.
Because Blake wasn’tlike them.
Blake was different. Special. He was Gabriel’s priority.He was the reason Gabriel woke up in the morning, the reason he tied his boots, the reason he still turned his back on the drink.
He was Gabriel’s mission.
If he left with Alvarez, it’s because he couldn’t come to you.
Gabriel faltered, steps slowing as he stared out into the darkness. Firelight flickered on the car windshields, like little stars speckled in the night.
As a soldier, Gabriel wasn’t accustomed to failure. From his first day at boot camp, he was told failure wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive. Not if he wanted to keep his men alive.
And Gabriel was a good soldier. He took orders. He followed his mission parameters. He didn’t fail.
So how was it that in his most important mission, he’d failed so miserably?
Blake tried to tell him. Repeatedly. But Gabriel had shrugged him off. Thought he could fix it by being a goodboyfriend.He thought books, dates, and attention could fix it.
In the blurred lines between lovers and his commander, Gabriel had forgotten that at his core, Blake was a medic. Hedidn’t choose the profession for the glory, and he sure as hell didn’t choose it for the money. It was a calling. Blake was his own kind of soldier.
Gabriel had treated him like something fragile. Something that had to be protected instead of utilized. Everything he’d told him at the beginning—how his gift was a superpower to be used—fell apart at the thought of losing him.
He was a hypocrite, and if something happened to Blake, it would be his fault.
Phin scuffed his feet as he approached Gabriel, deliberately making noise. “You should sit down.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. “I can’t.”
The taller man didn’t answer. He tucked his hands into his pockets and stared out over the parking lot. The flickering shadows made hills and valleys of his face. His hair was growing out. Gabriel had never seen it anything but buzzed.
“Tommy says the refugees are improving. Guy might even keep his fingers.”
Blake would like that,Gabriel thought. “Good.” His voice sounded thin, like air leaking out of a small hole in a balloon.
Phin kicked at a pebble, his face drawn. “We’re used to leaving.” He glanced over at the fire. “Being left is…much harder.”
Gabriel huffed, almost a laugh. Phin was right. How many times had he sent a quick goodbye text to his mom, or shrugged when his sister asked where he was going? He never stopped to consider how they would feel. The constant wondering. Living every day waiting for a phone call or a knock at the door, never sure if they should answer or have a few more moments of purgatory.
“I’m not a fan,” Gabriel answered, blowing out so he could watch his breath fog up. “But I think I get it now. Or at least, more of it. If…if he comes back, I’ll do better, I’ll fix it.”
Phin’s lips quirked. “That’s a soldier for you. Might take a couple hits, but we’ll get there eventually.” He punched Gabriel in the shoulder. “He’ll come back. Tommy will kill him if he doesn’t.”
Gabriel wished it were that simple. He was about to make a comment about eating kale being worse than death, but then he heard a shout. Whipping around, he saw Judd standing, blocking the light from the fire with his hand.
