Burn for Me (Chaotic Love)

31. Thirty-One

Thirty-One

2-7-2025

Sam.

-Jasmine

“This isn’t just an obstacle course. It’s preparation. Treat this like you’re on the field and not like an everyday task!” I shout, my voice rising enough that my throat starts to burn as I wipe the sweat from my brow. I had expected that when we returned, I’d be sentenced to run laps daily for the rest of my life. However, after a month of grueling training, something unexpected happened.

I received a call from Tide—well, actually, Sam got the call and insisted that I sit on the edge of his bed while he monitored the conversation. Despite my internal panic and thoughts of ‘this is the end,’ I was shocked to see Sam grinning, which quickly turned into a full-blown, toothy smile when Tide released an exhausted huff and praised me for my hard work in the field.

I was so excited that I almost overlooked Tide congratulating me on my rank and explaining my new position. Sam spent the rest of the day and that night helping me understand what it means to be a sergeant, all while putting up with my random squeals of excitement. He even maintained his unusually happy demeanor when Sharkie came to our room with a huge bottle of gin.

I'm not naive; I know he played a part in Tide's change in attitude. Sharkie told me about the argument he had with Tide while I was in the middle of a mental breakdown, struggling through one of his silent phases.

At first, I felt disappointed and thought I didn't deserve this promotion, but now I’m grateful because Sam has always seen something in me that I refused to acknowledge. He was only trying to help me recognize my potential.

With a satisfied hum at the team’s improved effort, I grab a rag from the bench to wipe my palms. There’s more dirt caked under my nails than usual from trying to demonstrate a more efficient way to handle the low-hanging wires.

“Much better. You’re not going to hunch over and take a breath when bullets are flying at you or an enemy is trying to stab you in the throat, so don’t do it here.”

As I watch a small girl sprinting around the track with a big smile, easily bypassing most of the men, I can’t help but grin back. For once, I’ve accomplished something significant; I’m no longer seen as the girl hiding on the wall or the person everyone turns away from. I’ve been recognized for my efforts— I’ve gained trust and a chance to prove myself. The girl tumbles over the wall, sliding through the mud past the finish line on her stomach, making me stop the timer on my phone.

"Six minutes and twelve seconds. That’s a new record for today. Everyone, rest up—you’ll be working with Captain Sharkie at the firing range tomorrow." I call out, tucking the rag into my back pocket. I'm not a scary, stern lieutenant like Sam or a strong, determined captain like Sharkie, but I have earned respect, so I appreciate my small accomplishments as they come. As long as I can return to a cozy room that smells like whiskey and features a touch of red in the black interior at the end of each day, I’d say I'm pretty content.

“Dismissed!” I shout, and the group of huddled soldiers grabs their belongings. Some quickly rush through the base's doors, while others linger, conversing in the corners. However, the one who stands out is the girl who steps back to the start of the course and begins to rerun it.

I hesitate for a moment, watching her in awe. If she continues like this, she’ll surpass the others in her training. I should know—I was once like her, but we are also different because I kept my persistence hidden.

Clearing my throat, I brush my hand over the flyaways of my bun and try to remember where this girl came from or even her name. However, I come up empty. So, I leave her behind and head to my favorite spot: the tall stone tower. I arrive just in time to watch the sun prepare to set as I pull out my notepad.

Even though my phone works perfectly well, I still prefer to write to Dove and occasionally to my father. It’s soothing on overwhelming days, and trust me, the days have indeed been overwhelming. My pen glides across the fresh paper while the distant crash of waves creates a calming symphony.

"I swear, as often as I have to come to fetch you, we might as well lock you in the workout room for a day so I can catch a break." Laura's light, airy voice purrs as she pulls my attention away.

"I’ll break the door down with a dumbbell just to get back here. I don’t think Tide would appreciate those expenses, so let’s avoid locking me up." I joke, returning my focus to my task. I pause when my dog tags slip from my shirt, causing the light to catch my ring and create sparkles on the half-written paper.

Pulling on the chain, I examine the small band. I don’t want to lose it, but I can’t part with it either, so keeping it close is the best option. Sam never takes his off; it seems to have grown into his skin. I like that; it shows how proud he is to be mine.

Technically, we never had a real wedding. I didn’t wear a white dress or walk down an aisle, and there was no honeymoon or official visit to the courthouse. But I didn’t want any of that.

Our relationship began authentically and raw—it was a little crazy that he legalized us without telling me, but it was real .

“I guess I’ll just inform your husband that you’re busy.” My head jerks towards Laura as I try to comprehend if I heard her correctly. Moe has taken over the traveling aspect of Seaborn, and Sam has stepped up to fill Tides’ position since he’s been focused on preparing for Sharkie and his future, so I hardly ever see him. He’s constantly involved in paperwork, concentrating on global problem areas and occasionally traveling to Greenport, the only place Moe hasn’t been granted access to.

It’s been a week and a half since I last saw Sam. Jonathan needed help addressing some issues in Australia. There was a kidnapping of his coworker’s wife, who was held hostage for information about their faction. From the staticky FaceTime call with Sam, I learned they managed to reach her in less than 24 hours, and thankfully, everything turned out alright.

Sam decided to stay a little longer to help sort out the aftermath of what went wrong. He’s a natural-born leader, and I couldn’t be prouder of the smile he wears, even if it’s due to the adrenaline of the situation or simply because he's covered in blood. He deserves something good in his life for once, even if it's in the form of chaos.

Still, I miss him.

My thoughts finally catch up with the moment. If Laura says she was sent to fetch me for him, then that would mean he’s back home. I narrow my eyes as I try to gauge her expression, wondering if this is some sort of cruel trick to get me off the tower. However, I come up short in getting a read on her, so my best option is to call her bluff.

“It’s getting dark, Sam,” I call out, rolling my eyes to show how unimpressed I am with her tactics. She shakes her head, braces her hands on her hips, and tilts her head towards the camera. My brows furrow, and my temper flares. This is serious; my husband constantly risks his life for me, his friends, his family, and the world.

My lips part, ready to revert to my old ways and lash out. I'll take the backlash and the possible punishments that might come with it. Just as I go to step forward, the intercoms crackle to life—not just from one tower, but from all of them—and my heart rate skyrockets.

“You look so good when you get your chance to shine, Darlin’.”

Sam.

The name echoes in my mind like his voice bouncing off the concrete walls, forcing me to freeze and a shaky breath to escape my lips. Without hesitating, I quickly shove my notepad into my uniform and race across the wall, down the steps, and into the courtyard. I half-expect to hear his voice urging me to slow down or teasing me about my eagerness with his warm chuckle. But it doesn’t come.

As I step into the large area, I look around to make sure my soldiers don’t see me almost in tears from how fast my heart is racing. However, I don’t get the chance to scan the full area before I’m drawn to the base's bulletproof door, which swings open with such force that it sends the scent of the person's clothes wafting in my direction.

I can’t help but smile, knowing that only one person carries a lingering scent of something smoky that makes me melt in the best ways. I no longer think of flames licking at my skin or dolls burning against wood. While I still have flashing memories of his body, sweaty and tight around mine while beams fell, the fear of fire no longer lingers in my mind. Instead, it's the fear of losing him that worries me. But that fear fades away when tattooed arms wrap around my body, and a hand with a skull imprint covers my mouth—not to silence me, but to give me a mask I’m proud to wear.

“Couldn’t get to me fast enough?” I nearly squeal as I leap into Sam’s arms, burying my nose firmly into his neck and wrapping myself around him like a spider monkey. If he was already at the entrance, he must have been running as fast as I was, if not quicker.

“I thought your demons were chasing you, so I was trying to save you.” he huffs with a laugh, his hand tangling in my hair.

“They don’t chase me.” I tease between heavy breaths, leaning back just enough to trace his features with my eyes, searching for new scars or bruises. “They worship me.”

"You're damn right they do, and if a single one steps out of line, I'll take care of them," he murmurs with a grin that I don't get to enjoy as he crashes his mouth into mine. He uses one hand in my hair to tilt my head to his liking while the other wraps around my waist, holding me firmly against him.

“I want to hear the stories,” I murmur against his mouth. He pulls back just enough so I can still feel his lips brush against mine, but he can speak properly now.

“Will you let me watch you write them down?”

He’s always been such a weirdo with his fascination for watching me do things. He steps back, pulling us into the building, but I refuse to leave his arms, burrowing into his neck instead.

“I missed you.”

“There’s no need to miss me when I’ll always come back to you.”

“For better or worse?”

“Till death do us part, Little Devil.”

This is what I’ve needed my whole life—someone to love me when I can’t love myself, someone to give me a chance to prove I’m better than I seem–someone who can take all my bad and cherish all the good. I’ve always needed him.

Whether it was God or the devil, they knew it too. Perhaps they are the same, both aware there is no salvation without damnation.

It's good that he thrives in destruction while I find joy in preservation.