Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
The pain was nauseating.
“Get up!” Donald barked at me, hovering over me now, blocking my view of the smoke billowing into the sky. Gripping the front of my uniform, he yanked me off the ground, hauling me to my feet and slamming my gun into my chest. When I grabbed it, he stepped to the side, drawing his weapon—
And stepped on an IED.
“Donald!” I roared, but it was too late. There was nothing of him to save.
The only things really remaining of him were clinging to my uniform. To my skin.
And to the bleeding pieces of my heart and soul.
I jerked upright, sweat clinging to my skin despite the cool temperature of the room. The fire in the fireplace had long gone out—nothing more than smoldering embers now—leaving the room cold, which felt damn good to my overheated skin. My heart was racing in my chest, and my entire body was trembling. Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back, my breaths ragged.
I hadn’t had that flashback in fucking years. I’d long ago gotten control of my PTSD. Had gone through extensive online therapy with a trauma therapist to get control of my shit.
But I had a feeling Gabriel being in danger, being in the middle of that goddamn shootout at the clubhouse, had brought it all back to the surface. Because, once again, someone I loved could’ve died. I could’ve fucking lost Gabriel that day.
I wouldn’t survive losing him, too. If I lost him, I knew without a doubt that I would put a bullet through my own skull.
Life without him would mean nothing.
I eased out of bed, being careful not to jostle Gabriel, and padded barefoot to the bathroom. I left the light off and turned the water on in the sink. After cupping my hands under the faucet and gathering some water in my palms, I splashed it onto my face, repeating the process three times to cool down my overheated skin.
Too bad I couldn’t wash away the mental image of my best friend being blown to fucking pieces right in front of my eyes. His blood staining my uniform. His abruptly cut-off scream. The way his body parts just flew in all directions, pieces of his skin clinging to mine.
Vomit rushed up my throat, but I swallowed it back down. Throwing up would wake up Gabriel, and my boy needed his rest. I wouldn’t disturb that.
“Tango?” Gabriel said softly. I jerked in surprise, glancing in the mirror to meet his sleepy-eyed gaze. He rested his hand on my sweaty back, concern washing over his features. With my hands flat on the counter, I turned my head to look at him, water dripping from my chin. Even in the darkness, I could see the worry for me in his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I rasped, hating how raw my voice fucking sounded. My emotions were too close to the surface, and everything inside of me fucking hurt.
He stroked his thumb along my damp skin. “Come back to bed.”
I heaved a sigh but nodded. After grabbing the hand towel, I dried my face and then followed him to bed. Once we were both laying down, he cuddled up next to me, his arm draped over my side, his other hand pressed against my steadily beating heart, which had finally slowed down to a steadier pace and no longer felt like it was threatening to hammer out of my chest.
“I heard you shout,” he said softly. “You shouted for a guy named Donald.”
I swallowed thickly and rested my chin on the top of his head. I hadn’t realized I’d yelled his name out loud, and I was slightly annoyed with myself for waking Gabriel up when he needed to sleep.
“Donald was a friend of mine,” I told Gabriel quietly.
“Was?” he asked, his voice just as quiet. He picked up on little things like that so damn easily. The boy was incredibly smart, and he paid more attention than most people gave him credit for.
I nodded, my fingers absentmindedly moving up and down his spine. “Was,” I confirmed. “He died during my last deployment.” I swallowed thickly, pain slicing through me even deeper. I hadn’t spoken about this out loud in years. Not since therapy. “His death was the reason I was discharged. The PTSD was too much; I was a risk. The military docs deemed me too unstable to continue my contract. I was let go with an honorable discharge.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel told me quietly, his arm tightening around me. “I’m sorry you lost someone so close to you.” He pressed a kiss to my chest, and I shivered, my arms tightening around him, emotion thickening my throat. I swallowed down the tears threatening to choke me. “How did he die?”
I drew in a shaky breath and slowly released it, wishing I could expel the pain in my chest just as easily. It hurt to fucking breathe. “An IED,” I quietly told him. Gabriel made a pained noise in the back of his throat. “I knocked us to the ground to avoid getting hit with bullets. It was goddamn mayhem. He yanked me back up so we weren’t just sitting ducks because I’d gotten hit in my arm and I could barely think past the pain.” I pressed my fingers into Gabriel’s back, anchoring him to me, my grip tight enough that it had to hurt. But of course, Gabriel didn’t seem to care. He just pressed closer. “He stepped sideways, readying his weapon, and stepped right fucking on it. There wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do to save him. It happened too fucking fast.”