Chapter 27
SCOTTIE
He came back—eventually. Something changed in him. He wasn’t exactly cold toward me, but his expression wasn’t as lighthearted and tender as it had been. I wasn’t even sure what I’d said to tick him off, but something had set him on edge.
And how dare it be when I found no safety unless I was with him.
Every bone in my body ached, grogginess settled within my figure as he found his way back to me. The thing was, I didn’t think he actually went and peed because I hadn’t heard anything, and it was rather quiet out here. But I didn’t say anything as he pulled me back into his lap and cradled me within an embrace of warmth.
My eyes burned, desperate to remain closed, but every time they fluttered shut, all that ran through my head was the image of that man and his disgusting, unwanted desire for me. “What right did he have to think he could do that?” I mumbled, leaning against Mikey as his fingers rhythmically swept through my hair.
I knew he heard me. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t falter in his movement. Nothing changed in his touch as he gently held me in his comforting lap.
With a quick glance up to his face, I found his eyes fixed on a single point in the distance. A glassy, unblinking stare holding steady on the nothingness in the horizon. Mikey was in a world that didn’t exist here.
Behind the dissociation in his gaze, pain, shame, and a boyish vulnerability washed his features.
I attempted to rouse him from the state he was locked in with a gentle shake, but he didn’t even twitch. He didn’t blink as I whispered my fingers gently across his cheek. My heart jumped into my throat as my touch hovered over his lips.
Lips that had once aggressively taken mine. Passion burned through the anguish darkening my mind. The simple thought of how protective Mikey was of me flamed like a light slowly swallowing the black clouding my head.
My burden was lighter with Mikey around. But I hated that I needed it—wanted it. I wasn’t raised to need anyone. I’d been able to keep up with seven boys, outshoot them all in a desperate attempt to gain attention from my foster father.
Maybe it wasn’t attention that I’d sought all those years, but his affection.
Well, shit.Leave it to Mikey to help me sort through my own fucking issues without intentionally doing so. Amidst this nothingness we were holed up in, my thoughts wandered to someone I hadn’t considered in years.
I was genuinely curious as to what my oldest brother was up to. Maybe there was some fault of my own for not reaching out directly to him. I bet there was a way to track down what James was up to. But that was tomorrow’s problem.
Right now, I needed to figure out how to close my eyes and actually get some rest.
The simple drumming of Mikey’s fingers through my hair drew my attention. Maybe I should talk to him. Distract my mind with his voice as I closed my eyes. Inhaling deeply, I coaxed my eyes shut. “When’d you meet Thompson?” I asked, hoping that he would come out of whatever dissociation he was in.
“Hmmm?” His chest vibrated with his hum.
“Thompson. You knew him as a kid. When’d you meet him?” I asked again.
“Oh.” Mikey shifted his weight, hoisting me closer to his body. “Right after shit went down with my parents. He caught me fighting a kid after school. Gave me a roof over my head, some food, and started training me. Kept me going straight for a while.”
“What happened?” I asked, staring at the back of my eyelids.
“He took a new position in the military and disappeared. I got roped into the stupid MMA shit by a different trainer who wasn’t quite as honest as he was. Then got caught up in, you know, some illegal things, ended up getting arrested and at the recruiter’s office, and here we are.”
“So, you haven’t seen him in like fifteen years or so?”
“Uh, he called off and on as I got older, but the last time we talked was almost ten years ago.” Mikey leaned his head back as exhaustion, blissful exhaustion, finally crept through my bones.
“I’m pretty tired,” I mumbled.
“Then go to sleep. I’ve got you,” he quietly said, tenderness creeping back into his voice.
“I’m terrified I’ll dream about Merlin,” I confessed. “Specifically his shriveled up dick.”
“You mutilated it pretty good,” Mikey lightheartedly replied.
“I did, didn’t I? And you know what else?”
“What?”
“I know this will sound so cliché, but like, at least the bad guy actually had a small dick. You know how guys with small dicks try and act all tough and stuff? He lived up to that.” I giggled, finding some comfort in the dark humor surrounding my trauma. Fuck. I actually giggled. Damn you, Mikey.
“Small? I thought it was fairly average,” he answered.
I would’ve opened my eyes, but my eyelids were so heavy, they remained shut. “Average? Mikey, have you not seen your own?”
Mikey chuckled, and I could only imagine the cocky-ass smile on his face. “You haven’t even seen my cock, Scotch.”
“Yeah, but I know how it feels,” I lazily bantered.
“Oh, I’m very aware that you know how it feels…through pants.”
“Shut up, Blondie. Though, I will admit I didn’t expect you to still be a bit of a grower.”
“Mostly in girth, but yeah.”
The world was slowing, the hazy feeling of sleep inching its way closer and closer. “I bet you’ve had issues getting it to fit in some girls before.”
“Two things. One, you’re getting very comfortable talking about my fucking cock.” He brushed a thumb across the tip of my ear, and I was too wrapped up in the comfort to slap his arm. “But two, you talk as if I’ve had a lot of partners before.”
“Have you not?” I inhaled deeply, letting his sweet and musty scent of sweat coat my nostrils.
“No, believe it or not. I still only need one hand to count them,” he quietly replied.
“You know what else I want to know?” I mumbled, rather enjoying this clearly across-the-boundaries discussion with him.
“What else do you want to know?”
“How is it comfortable-like running around with all that junk? Doesn’t it slap against your thighs or get stuck to your skin?” I blurted out, unfiltered.
“Well, for one, I wear compression boxers for a reason, and powder helps. But two, you should go to sleep,” he replied with a gentle chuckle.
“Mmmmm, sleep sounds nice,” I muttered.
And I could’ve sworn he said something about how I could dream about his cock right before the world slipped away.
“Hey, Scotch.” The muffled tones of a deep voice roused me slowly from my slumber. Never before had sleep felt so comfortable. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken up so rested, despite all of the crap that had gone down.
Protesting, I groaned and tucked myself tighter against Mikey.
Gentle shaking joined the repeated statement. “Scotch, baby.”
My heart skipped a beat. Baby? A cacophony of both euphoria and dread swirled in my stomach. I hated how much I loved the tenderness with which he spoke the simple word. I hated that I wanted him to say it again, knowing that we were destined for catastrophe.
“You gotta wake up,” Mikey said gently.
“Mmmmm,” I hummed in reply, finally prying open my puffy, dry eyes.
“Ten minutes until you need to go rouse Bernie for watch,” Mikey explained in a whisper.
Stitching my brows together, I peeled my cheek off Mikey’s chest. “Ten minutes…” I muttered, smacking my lips together. Didn’t that mean I could’ve slept for at least eight more? Or cuddled for at least five.
Then reality slammed into me like the RPG to our annihilated buggy.
My eyes flew wide. “Bernie’s watch?” I gasped, startled. “Ten minutes until Bernie’s watch?” Disbelief soared through my veins. He’d let me sleep right through my shift. Mikey didn’t complain, didn’t even try to rouse me from my slumber, and simply stayed awake as I blissfully remained unaware of the possibility of danger.
Suddenly, unexpected anger sizzled beneath the disbelief. What right did Mikey have, deciding whether or not I was in the right state of mind to effectively keep watch?
“I’ll sneak on down, then you come ten minutes later and trade out Bernie, okay?” Mikey carefully slid his legs out from under me, guiding me with a soft plop to the sandy floor.
“How dare you,” I hissed.
I knew I shouldn’t have confessed to Mikey that I was scared. It made me look weak, and he chose to let me skip my watch because he didn’t believe I could handle it after the shit that happened with Merlin.
“Excuse me?” He paused, still squatted beside me. Confusion twisted his features. Shadows deepened over his eyes beneath his primal brow bones.
“You had no right assuming that I couldn’t handle watch!” I pushed off of the ground, slicing a glare at him.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, rising with me.
Ramming a finger into his chest, I huffed in anger. “I confessed to you that I was scared because of that asshole, and you used it against me. I’m not weak, so—”
“I don’t think… Wait, what the fuck are—”
“Don’t cut me off,” I snapped, dropping my hand from his chest and crossing my arms.
“You interrupted me first,” he snarled back. All tenderness once etched upon his face toward me snapped away like a file deleted from the internet.
“Well, you should have woken me up. Shit may have happened to me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle my fucking job,” I roared in response. “And you of all people doubting me after everything hurts the most.”
Red clouded my vision. How could he? Mikey had become the one person I knew I could count on, until now. Until this stunt he pulled.
“I didn’t wake you up because…” He paused and ran a hand over his face. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and turned away. “I didn’t do that because I thought you couldn’t fucking handle it, Scottie.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I hissed at his back as he began silently walking down the ledge. Of course he would lie. Of course he would simply walk away. He’d done the same thing the first time he’d looked at me.
He paused at my words. I stared at his still frame, so large, so powerful. So much strength exuded from someone who wasn’t as heartless as I’d first thought. But he said nothing and simply resumed walking away.
Tears welled up in my eyes as pain shattered my soul. What had I just done? Agony seared in my heart, inflicted by my own choice—by my own words that I should have never spoken. But how dare he…
Collapsing to the ground, salt stained my cheek. How dare he sacrifice some of his time to sleep to allow me to rest longer. And all I did was get frustrated with him and accuse him of seeing me as weak.
How long was I going to believe the lies I told myself?
Of all the people to end up pissed at, to tear apart, Mikey was not one deserving of my anger—anger imploding from the bottle I’d kept capped for so long.
And I knew, as he disappeared beneath the outcrop, the next time we’d be alone so I could apologize was undetermined and not guaranteed. He’d fought through hell, became the devil himself to rescue me, and I destroyed him in a completely different way.
Why? Because I was a fucking coward. Because I’d convinced myself I didn’t need him. That never having him hurt less than having him and knowing I would have to eventually let him go.
Consumed in my own misery, I waited the ten minutes and then quietly crept down from the ledge that swallowed my soul whole.
Whether Mikey was actually asleep or not was a mystery to me. His eyelashes didn’t flutter open as I roused Bernie. Mikey remained lying on his side, unmoving, with his back pressed up against the cold, petrified sand to the right with one arm angled beneath his head and the other holding his rifle.
As I laid down on my back in the open space between him and Duncan, every cell in my body ached to see his ocean gaze once more. But I knew I lost that privilege. And I also knew that there was no sleep to be had for me for the foreseeable future. The one place I found comfort, the one person who provided me with any semblance of solace, I’d ruined.
I simply stared at the dune ceiling, waiting for the dreamland to overtake me.
Waiting…
Wishing that I could take back the words I’d spat in anger toward someone who didn’t deserve an ounce of my malice.
Eventually, Bernie returned and quietly traded out Ford for watch. The sky was slowly beginning to darken, and I knew we’d be in those dune buggies, cruising toward base in just a couple hours. The moment Bernie settled down on the opposite side of Duncan, I shifted sideways and stole a moment to gaze at Mikey.
He hadn’t moved a single muscle. His face remained as stoic as it had been the last time I glanced at it. In the dimming light, every chiseled feature of his was highlighted with shadows that danced across his body.
Honestly, I didn’t mind the facial hair. But Mikey seemed to prefer it shaved, and I liked being able to see his jawline. Beneath the dried crimson that stained and marred almost every inch of his exposed skin, waited a handsomeness that honestly beat out all else.
A fire blazed to life in the pit of my belly, flames licking at the edges of thoughts I’d never had about another man. I’d been with men before, but something about Mikey resonated differently, hit differently.
I sighed heavily, studying his face as the sun ticked lower and lower down in the horizon. Every line, every sharp angle of his bones, seared into my mind.
What a fool I’d been. And what doom crept into my soul as the reality of everything settled upon my shoulders. I’d destroyed Mikey. Thompson was dead. The Black Box was missing. Our only lead to where it could be was in a coma back in the United States. And someone entirely different than al-Jabari had been after me. Plus, we still hadn’t even managed to snag a photo of Karim.
Every fucking thing that should have gone right, failed.
Iwas a failure.
And the longer I lay here, the deeper I sank. Drowning in chaos and destruction that was of my own making, and I couldn’t seem to find the strength to swim.