Ever.
Carlos.
The therapist.
Guys from my unit who hadn’t bothered the second I was out.
I ran a hand through my hair. Still too short.
I shook it off.
My thumb trembled as it hovered over the icon.
It was a mistake.
It had to be.
He picked up before I could rethink it.
“A bit early, isn’t it?” Rustling followed. “This better mean you’re finally ready to meet up, kid.”
I breathed out. This was stupid. The fall hadn’t been that bad. It shouldn’t be taking this much out of me.
“Sorry, sir.” I rasped out the words. I barely recognized my voice. “I can do an early breakfast.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I was so screwed. “If it’s okay, sir. I understand?—”
More rustling. “It’s okay. Send me a pin, and I’ll pick you up.”
“How do you?—”
“No fucking way you’re this worked up in that mansion Carlos told me about.”
Shame swirled up. At least, it was a more familiar feeling.
“Sir?”
“You can drop the military speak, you know?”
I shook my head. I needed something to tether me. Something to tell me where the boundaries were.
“Hypothetically, do you know anyone who…” I licked my lips. “I think I need someone, a professional, to hear about…stuff that went down, and just tell me what happened, because I, I I think I just, I need to know, sir.”
“What kind of stuff?”
I cringed. I should have waited. I should have texted the question after I got through breakfast, I just…
Deep breaths.
I had to focus on that.
“Sexual,” I pushed the word out in little more than a whisper. “Maybe. I don’t know. She was a higher rank, and I…”
I clamped a hand over my mouth before I blabbered out more than I should in the middle of a vacant road.
“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted. His voice was lower than I’d expected for a therapist. “Yeah, I can give you a few contacts after breakfast, but Santos?”
