A misplaced smile cracked across my lips. They hadn’t, that’s how. They’d never had any problem telling me when I was being a pain in the ass.
My skin flashed hot and then cold with the memory of my old unit. Still much more bitter than sweet.
There was a military ban on alcohol for much of the time I’d spent in Afghanistan, but it happened anyway. I kept clear of it for the most part, but one night, I’m not even sure how, I ended up with a bottle in my hand. Rodriguez found me, took it away, and then used it for firing practice.
He told me that I had the unfortunate problem of fighting two wars at once, and I’d find myself losing them both if I wasn’t careful.
I wished he were here to talk me down now.
But he wasn’t.
And that was another war within me, too.
I settled for stepping into the shower in my room, still fully clothed. I let the water weigh down the fabric, hopefully removing all traces of the alcohol that had been spilled on me. When I was satisfied, I shucked the heavy material and hung my clothes up on a hand rail on the tiled wall. Then I stood under the steaming water and tried to wash away the thoughts too. I closed my eyes and let the water pour over my face.
I was going to have to find some way to cope with this. If not, I was better off calling Mr. Summers and suggesting he find someone else to take over his daughter-watch.
I felt a pang of something at that thought. It was a general kind of discomfort, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the thought of returning home or something else that made that thought so unappealing.
After the cooling walk earlier, and now standing under the calming rush of water, it was easier to think that I could control myself, but I knew better. It always seemed easier in my head than it really was.
I wiped the water from my eyes, and tried to think of some other way to deal. There was always the hope that Kelsey would get bored. That she would mellow out. If she only partied a couple nights a week, I should be able to resist. But that seemed unlikely.
All that restless energy; the way she’d soaked up the attention from the people around her. I couldn’t see her giving that up. And it was working for her. She was still in the phase where partying made her feel good. That was the one thing that helped me stay clean. The few times I’d slipped up since I started the program had left me miserable and angry, and even more frustrated than when I started. I’d found new ways to chase the high. And maybe that wasn’t any healthier, not when one way involved being in the midst of flying bullets.
It wasn’t the same kind of rush, but it did the trick. I pictured Kelsey again, laughing with her head thrown back, her shirt falling off her shoulder and displaying the gentle curve of her neck. It reminded me of the way she’d tossed her head back that first day out in the woods.
The memory of that caused a different kind of rush in me, and I groaned, pressing my forehead into the tile. Before I could help myself, I pictured her long legs straddling that guy in the gardens. The bright green material of her bra, and the way it conformed to her perfect chest. She leaned back, her fingertips trailing from the bark of the tree to his shoulders.
In an instant, the memory shifted into fantasy, and those were my shoulders she clung to, not his.
That was my undoing. There was only so much resisting I could do in one night. Letting go of any thoughts about what was right or appropriate, I imagined what it would be like to have her legs clamped down around my hips, and her fingernails digging into my skin. I imagined her long hair tickling my arms as I smoothed my hands down her back to those maddeningly short shorts.
I closed my eyes to shut out the world, and let my hand drift down to one problem that was all too easy to solve.
I thought about her lips, red and full and taunting. I dreamed about the taste of her and the warmth of her skin. Remembering the way everyone flocked to her in that bar, the way she seemed to light a fire under the world, just the thought of having her all to myself—all this was enough to make my breath come in pants.
I didn’t even have to invent anything more to get off. The memories alone did the trick, and my release was powerful enough to make my legs go weak and black spots merge in my vision. I didn’t realize until afterward that the water sliding down my back had turned cold. Almost as if the universe were trying to keep me from crossing that line.
Too late.
MY EYES FOUND Kelsey, her hips once again swinging to the music. Bodies swarmed around her in the club and lights flashed overhead. There was a crash like thunder, and the club floor shook. Kelsey kept on dancing, oblivious, but I looked down to the rifle in my hands.
The rest of the world came into focus—the helmet strapped tight beneath my chin, the vest heavy against my chest, and the smoke singeing my nostrils.
Sand began to roll across my boots, riding on the wind and stinging the few places where my bare skin showed. In seconds, the club became a desert and the colored lights morphed into the flare of explosions. I was knocked off my feet, my ears ringing, but my eyes went to Kelsey once more, still standing. I heard the tap-tap-tap of gunfire, almost benign in it’s simplicity. If we were somewhere else, it could have blended in with the sound of street traffic or construction. But in the desert, the sand seemed to suck away all the other sounds.
Tap-tap-tap.
I stood, whirling, trying to find the source, and I wasn’t alone. Rodriguez was there at my heels. Ingram, Johnny One, and Teague, too.
“Come on!” Ingram roared, gesturing for us to retreat back behind a barricade. He slid over the top, knocking down glasses and beer bottles perched along the bar.