I don’t know what’s worse: not knowing or remembering every detail.
A flash of being surrounded by dead bodies fills my mind, along with Webb’s cold eyes as she lay lifeless next to me.
I shake it off. Okay, yeah, remembering every detail would be sure to send me crazy.
“Thinking of running away?”
I flinch at Trav’s voice.
“Is that an option?” My lips curve upward, but it’s half-assed at best.
“I’m not your warden.”
“Are you saying working for you is like being in prison?”
Trav laughs. “I mean you don’t owe me anything.”
“You save my life, you put me through rehab and therapy, but I owe you nothing? That doesn’t sound right.”
“The military paid for most of your treatments. It was just under my watch.”
I know he had to have paid for at least some of it. I wasn’t at a VA hospital. None of them are that high-tech and … shiny. Shiny and new is probably the best way to describe it. But I appreciate him telling me I’m under no obligation to stick this out.
I want to, but I feel so damn weak. “I’m not going anywhere. I just needed some air.” I contemplate telling him exactly how exhausted I am but think better of it. Especially after I told him I was ready. Struggling is a sign of weakness, and this may not be the military, but that wouldn’t fly with GenNex. I assume it’s the same for Trav.
“Overwhelming?” Trav asks.
“Understatement.”
“Don’t stress too hard over it. The next few days are about seeing where you’re at and slowly getting you used to the team and how we operate. There’s no pressure. There’s no passing or failing. I’m not going to be putting you into the field anytime soon. Not until both you and I think you’re ready.”
I don’t want to show how much of a relief that is. “I could do an op now.”
Trav’s lips press together. “We don’t do that bullshit here.”
“What bullshit?”
“Pretending to be stronger than we are. If there’s a problem, we address it. We don’t keep pushing ourselves until the person who comes back from an op isn’t the same one who left.”
My brow furrows. “This is … new.”
Throughout my time in the military—no, my whole life—I was told weakness makes you a target. I could never show it.
“No fragile masculinity here. It’s one of the rules. I’d rather my guys ask for help than push through and risk the lives of the rest of our team.” Trav pushes off the wall beside me. “Ready to head back in there, or would you rather some more air that’s about to turn frigid because the sun’s disappearing?”
I bite my lip. I want more air, but my instinct is telling me to hide that, and as I look at Trav’s expectant features, I get the feeling this is some kind of test. He told me to ignore those pretend I’m fine instincts. “Air.”
“Right answer. Come with me. I can light the bonfire.”
As we go to walk off, I lock eyes with someone hovering by the door. Iris stands there, pretending to listen to what Zeus is saying on his other side, but his intense dark eyes are on me.
There were maybe ten feet between us that whole time, and I wonder how much he heard.
I nod to him, but he doesn’t respond, only lifts his beer to his lips and swallows it down with a visible gulp. I follow Trav to where Iris’s and my tents are set up, and Trav gets to work on lighting a fire.
“What’s on the agenda tomorrow?” I ask as I sit on one of the bench seats surrounding the pit.
“I was thinking training drills with each of my specialists. I want to see where your skill level is at and what I’m most likely going to use you for.”
“I’m pretty versatile.”
A loud snort comes from behind me as Iris and Zeus make their way over to us.
“Uh, in what I can do,” I clarify and then realize that doesn’t make it any better.
Okay, I haven’t blushed since maybe I was a teenager, but yep, my cheeks are currently aflame. If Trav had the fire going, I could at least blame that, but he doesn’t. Not yet.
“It’s true,” Iris says and sits on one of the other benches. “There wasn’t anything he was bad at in basic. All the COs loved him.”
“They would’ve loved you more had you not run your mouth,” I point out.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Wait,” Zeus says, “Iris has always been like this?”
“Always,” Iris and I say in unison.
Zeus sits next to him. “I feel sorry for your mother.”
“My grandmother always used to say I talked Mom into an early grave,” Iris says proudly.
“That … might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No, don’t feel sorry for him,” Zeus says. “It’s a trap! A trap!”