Page 38 of Trust

I wasn’t into school either, but finished anyway. That diploma was my ticket out of the trailer park and into the Navy. Black ops isn’t something you walk away from alive. You’re in until you’re not. I would have taken a bullet for my team, for Cash, for my country. No questions asked. They needed someone to take the fall. I returned home with the skills they gave me and none of the rules.

She also needs that ticket for college. I’m not sure if she’s realized it yet.

We keep to ourselves for most of the day. I hole up in the kitchen with my laptop. I’ve also got a life after this job, and prepping for it now saves me time later. More time leads to more work. Not because I need it, but because I want it. I thrive on this kind of grind. The paycheck is a bonus.

In the afternoon, I bring two mugs of coffee out to the porch. She’s barefoot, surrounded by flashcards and notes, so absorbed in Catcher in the Rye it takes her a while to notice me.

When she finally does, her expression dares me to comment but warns me not to. I don’t, but I can’t help the grin spreading.

“Can I?” I ask, nodding toward her feet.

“Sure.” She sets the book aside and shifts, giving me access. “The pain’s almost gone. I can walk and wear sneakers now without wincing.”

I’m not convinced. The second my fingers brush her sole, she jerks back. My eyebrows lift.

“It doesn’t hurt.” The words squeeze through clenched teeth. Her lips barely part, as if speaking too loudly might make it worse. “I’m just... ticklish.” Her gaze skitters away, cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

“All right.” I let go, holding the laugh in. “Let them rest. We’ll try a walk tomorrow.”

She relaxes, toes twitching in the sun as she picks up the book again.

◆◆◆

I wake with a start.

"Ow!" The sound tears through the stillness.

For a beat, I’m back in the fight, heart hammering, muscles snapping to attention before my brain even catches up. I tumble out of bed, feet already moving. It’s coming from Sara’s room.

I grab the key from the nightstand, unlock the door, and burst into her room without knocking, ready for God knows what. Adrenaline floods my veins, and I come to an abrupt stop, standing bare-chested in my boxers.

In a tank top and panties, she’s half on the mattress, half crumpled on the floor. Her hair’s a mess, cheeks flushed, low groans escaping as she tries to sit up.

“What happened?” I ask, my heart pounding for way too many reasons.

“I wanted to get up,” she says through clenched teeth, “and it felt like someone stuck a knife in my back. I collapsed.”

Relief and concern hit me at the same time. “It’s probably a locked joint. I can release it, if you’ll let me,” I tell her, kneeling down. “But you have to lie flat on the floor and let your muscles go limp. I’ll need to apply some pressure and... well, it’s going to bite for a second, but it’ll help.”

It must really hurt, considering she immediately shuffles off the mattress as best she can and gets into position.

I adjust her arm and shoulder, shifting her onto her side. She winces. “I’m going to twist you a bit, then push down when I count to three, okay?”

“Uh huh,” is all she manages.

“One. Two—”

She locks up solid as steel.

I back away, smiling despite myself. “Okay, nope. It’s not gonna work if you’re tense.”

She narrows her eyes. “You said three.”

“Yeah, and you flinched on two. You’ve got to trust me more.”

“Says the guy who jails me at night.”

I scoff. Fair.