Page 53 of Playing Hard to Get

I hadn't uttered his name in years, and it felt like a knife plunged deep in my gut.

“We knew.” I gasped for a breath that was right there but so far away. “They wouldn't listen. We knew something was going to go down. Just kept watching and waiting. The guys were all sitting around eating, joking, having a fine damn time… And the fucking Jihadis were sneaking up on us.”

Vivian’s hand moved to my neck as her face lifted to mine. “You don't have to tell me,” she said, so quiet it was like a dream.

Because the sounds of bombs and gunfire echoed loudly throughout my memories.

“No,” I told her. I pressed my lips hard against hers, then squeezed her to me like she could save me from this hell. “I need to, Viv. I need to tell someone. Need someone to remember him with me.”

She clung to me. Held me as I held her. Gave me that comfort I needed to get through this.

“James… Tyler James. He was my best friend. Couldn't stand the son of a bitch when we first met.” I let out a harsh laugh and shook my head. “But I would have done anything for him.”

Vivian’s hand on my neck brushed against my skin. Like she knew I needed to feel her here.

“The first bomb got Calhoun. He was just… gone. Fisher was hurt bad. We couldn't…”

“Mitch…” The sweet kiss against my cheek was the only thing keeping me here, out of the nightmares.

“Another blast took out Harrison.” I swallowed hard to clear the lump in my throat. “I got hit with shrapnel. Thompson lost a leg.”

I paused to breathe. Dragged my hand down my face and found it shaking. Vivian took my hand in hers. Placed sweet kisses across my knuckles before tucking our hands against her chest. Those piercing blue eyes met mine. They called to me. Called me back from the edge I’d found myself on too many times before.

“James dragged my sorry ass back to safety.” My voice had gone quiet, a whisper in the silence. “He tried to help me. Flagged down Lee and Barnes and Macevoy when they came back from chasing down some Jihadis out into the desert. And all the yelling and confusion covered the guy who snuck up on us from the rooftop. I couldn't… I couldn't get my gun up in time. Bastard got off a couple shots. Hit me in the leg and…”

I clenched my eyes shut. Saw his face as he fell to the ground before me. Smelled the blood in my memory, so real I could taste that coppery tang. The sounds of screaming echoed in my ears. Lee. Barnes. Macevoy.

My own.

Until that week, James was a jokester. Everyone loved him. Always had a cocky-ass grin on his face and a joke to go with it. But he was a helper, too. When Lee pulled me aside to talk strategy, get my opinion on some move we were about to make, James took up my slack. Jumped in to give a hand wherever it was needed. Carried more than his fair share and was willing to give away what was his if he saw someone in need.

That week he was quiet. That ache in my gut was there in his, too. Telling us something wasn't right. Something was coming.

“Lee got the Jihadi on the roof… too late. James, he…” I couldn't speak it. Instead, I tapped a finger against my forehead. And she knew. Her gasp rocketed through me as her hand reached for my face.

“Mitch, no.”

I pressed my face into her hand, kissed her palm and took her comfort for my own.

“They sent me home to heal. Removed the shrapnel and fixed my body. But they couldn't fix this,” I said, tapping my fist against my chest. I tapped a finger against my temple. “He’s here. The last moments of his life are trapped forever in my mind. I relive every minute of that day, wondering if I could have done something different. If I could have been more vocal. Gotten Lee and the guys to listen to me. If I could have moved just a little faster. Gotten a shot off to take the Jihadi out before he got James. I die a little every night, every time I dream of that day. It changed everything for me.”

Vivian studied me, her head tilted to the side and her lip pulled between her teeth. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head. I'd never told anyone before. But I needed her to know. Needed her to understand me in a way I’d never needed anything like this before.

“I loved the Marines. Once I got in, I expected to stay in for life. Never wanted anything else.”

“Was it the ambush?”

“No.” I pulled her body closer. Needed to feel her. To touch her. To ground me here. “Just couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't find the love I once had for it after he died. I went back to finish my time and got out as soon as I could. Decided to travel. Ended up in Japan and fell in love with the peace the country brought me. It helped keep the demons at bay.”

Silence floated between us. I kept glancing at Vivian, sure she’d be scared away as I tore my soul open for her to see. But she was there. Watching. Waiting. Comforting.

Staying.

Her fingers trailed along my arm. Touching the ink that stained my skin. Asking without words for the answer to a question I’d never asked myself.

Why? Why ink my skin? Why cover my scars?