Page 64 of My All American Girl

28

DEAN

Iwoke with a start, the insistent ringing of my phone slicing through the late-night daze. I glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. I didn’t have training today. There was nowhere for me to be. I reached for the phone and frowned at the unfamiliar number on the screen. I debated ignoring it, but something compelled me to answer. People didn’t call other people at this hour for shits and giggles. Only bad calls came late at night or early in the morning.

“Hello?” I grumbled, my voice thick with sleep.

“Dean?” The voice on the other end was shaky, breathless, and instantly recognizable. It was Sarah.

My heart jumped in my throat. “Sarah? What’s wrong?” My mind raced through the possibilities. Had she been hurt? Was she in danger? I hopped out of bed, instinctively knowing I needed to get to her. It was a pull like I had never experienced before. If I could grow wings, I would do it.

She started crying, the sound sharp and desperate over the line. Adrenaline surged through me. Something serious had happened. Sarah wasn’t the type to break down easily. I had pushed her to her breaking point and never once had she cried.

“Slow down, Sarah. Take a breath.” I tried to stay calm. I scanned the floor for the pants I knew were down there somewhere. I held the phone between my shoulder and ear and jerked my pants on. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She gasped for air between sobs. “Waterboarding… fight… Rolley…” Her words were fragmented, but I caught enough to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Where are you?” I demanded.

“In the med bay,” she managed to say.

“Okay. Stay there. I’m headed to the airport. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just sit tight.”

“Please hurry,” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

“I will,” I promised, feeling a rush of protectiveness. “Everything’s going to be okay, Sarah. I’m on my way.”

I hung up, pulse pounding. I threw on a shirt and shoes, grabbed my keys, and bolted out the door. I drove to the airport while searching for a direct flight to Spokane. Thankfully, there was one leaving in twenty minutes. I hit the gas and whipped into the airport parking lot. I sprinted toward the gate after clearing security. I couldn’t remember the last time I flew commercial, but I didn’t have time to find an Air Force transport. And I didn’t want to raise suspicions about why I was flying up to see the general’s daughter. This was me on my own.

Sarah’s distress echoed in my mind as I took my seat. I couldn’t imagine what she had gone through. Waterboarding was no joke, even in a training environment. The fact that Rolley and others had been involved? It made my blood boil.

I wasn’t able to get much out of her, but I understood it was bad. I needed to see her and hold her. I had to reassure her everything was going to be okay. I couldn’t stand the idea of her crying. I didn’t want her in pain or suffering in any way.

I touched down in Spokane, oddly enough only a couple hours after I had left Mississippi. I rented a car and drove the short distance out to the base. I practically sprinted to the med bay. Thankfully, I knew a lot of the people on base and was quickly shown to the med bay. Inside, I found Sarah sitting on a bed, her eyes red and puffy, her hands trembling. She looked up at me with a mixture of relief and pain.

I rushed to her side, my heart breaking at the sight of her. “Hey,” I said softly, sitting beside her and gently taking her hand. “Are you okay?”

Sarah shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks.

My jaw clenched. “Tell me what happened.”

She threw her arms around me, clinging to me as if she desperately needed the reassurance of my presence. I held her close, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other resting on the back of her head.

After a moment, I pulled back slightly to look at her. Really look at her. That was when I noticed Sarah’s swollen lip. I took a second to take it in and temper my anger.

“What happened?” I asked again. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sarah, dammit, I’m not in the mood for bullshit,” I growled. “Where? How bad?”

“I have a bruised collarbone,” she said.

I carefully took her right hand in mine and saw the split knuckles. She had clearly been in a fight. As reckless as she was, Sarah wouldn’t start a fight during survival training without good reason. She was fiercely loyal. And saw in black and white. Wrong was wrong in her eyes. I imagined she was sticking up for someone.

“You were in a fight,” I said.

“It’s not what you think,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. She glanced over at the bed where Rolley lay, beaten and battered. I had not even noticed him when I walked in. I grimaced when I saw what kind of shape he was in. Her tears spilled over, running down her cheeks.