17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
KAT
T he howl of a coyote rising to the moon pulled me from my daze. Not quite asleep, but also not quite awake, until now. Slowly, I pushed up as quietly as possible and glanced around the tent. Laying on either side of me was my mom and Emma, both of them out cold.
A soft purple glow, muted and barely there, brushed at the edge of the tent, and I groggily crawled out of my sleeping bag. Exhaustion burrowed into my bones, but I’d been unable to sleep, and there was no use in remaining still.
Maybe a crisp walk beneath the moonlit mountain peaks would quiet my mind. Slipping my boots on, I tucked my plaid pajama pants into them and ducked out through the tent flaps. Quietly meandering forward, I tugged a sweatshirt over my head and stuffed my hands in my pockets.
Restless. Angry. Embarrassed.
How dare Wyatt act like he had. And, while my father had quietly pulled me aside and apologized for letting him talk to me like that after, I’d not seen Bernie, and he was who I wanted to be comforted by. He was the one who had openly defended me, and I’d not had a chance to thank him for it.
Bernie …
The man who had swallowed my thoughts. The man who kept me up, someone who haunted my dreams. He’d protected me. He’d not even bothered to hide it behind some sarcastic jab, but instead outright defended me.
Wandering around a trunk, I dragged my fingers across the rough bark. I should’ve spoken up and said something along with Bernie. I should’ve done something more in his defense of me too. But I’d remained quiet, taking the tongue-lashing.
With a screech, I caught sight of a slumped figure leaning against a tree.
And skidded on my heels.
My heart jumped to my throat, adrenaline coursing thick through my veins as I went to turn and run.
But, for whatever reason, I didn’t.
Instead, curiosity coiled around my veins, holding me in place. I knew this was how all horror movies started, but there was something familiar about this shaded thing, and I took a couple steps closer.
The creature didn’t turn its head, a hood pulled up, hiding away its face.
One hand rested in its lap while the other clutched at something I recognized.
Wait, it wasn’t a creature at all, but a man, seated on the ground, lazily resting against a tree with a cat I also recognized curled up next to him .
“Bernie, what are you doing out here?” I gushed, relieved.
And confused.
Especially as he didn’t turn and look at me. He hadn’t moved at all.
I cautiously crept closer. Pulling my brows together, I walked in front of him and then slowly squatted down.
His glassy eyes stared at nothing. An onyx hoodie hid him away, still wearing the pair of jeans he’d had on last night. He sat on his sleeping bag, not in it, a blanket scrunched up beside him served as a bed for Muffin.
And in that hand resting on his thigh, he clutched a black handgun.
Fear barreled through me like a tornado.
“Bernie?” I whispered, but he still didn’t look at me.
Slowly, his eyes closed, and a tear slid down his cheek. One single tear.
“Hey,” I quietly said again, worry ripping through me. “Couldn’t sleep?”
His eyelids fluttered open, but his gaze remained distant as he didn’t say a word.
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
“Bernie, look at me please,” I pleaded.
“Why? What’s the fucking point? Of any of this?” he finally slurred, tipping his head up, and the stench of alcohol smacked into me as solid as a metal pole.
“Are you…Are you drunk?” I asked, glancing at the other hand in his lap. There it was, a flask clutched tightly between his fingers.
“Does it matter?” he asked, flopping the gun sideways. “Oh, but you’ll tell me, ‘You’re alive. That’s what matters.’ That’s what everyone says. But why am I?” His eyes locked onto mine. There was something in them I’d never seen before. And it shot terror through me like a lion ripping through its prey.
He tipped his head as if he were a caged animal attempting to break free of chains. “Why am I fucking alive? Why not Duncan?” He waved the gun around, anger rising in his voice. “Why did he point that fucking rifle at him and not me? Or hell, why not at any of the others? Why not Scottie? Reyes was jealous of her after all, not Duncan.”
He paused, narrowing in on me. “SO, WHY DID HE FUCKING AIM AT DUNCAN?”
I furrowed my brows, listening to what seemed like nonsense spew from his lips, as he continued to wag the weapon around.
“Bernie,” I cautiously began. “Where’d you get the gun?” I crept forward, closing some of the distance between us.
He leaned his head back and cackled, deranged, full of a burden I’d never known. “Your dad gave it to me last night saying no man should be in the woods without one.”
“What does…What does he think is going to come and get you?” I hesitantly asked. My father had given it to him?
Bernie grinned. A grin that sent a shiver up my spine. “ Monsters , Kat. Don’t you know that?”
I furrowed my brows. “What monsters?”
“The ones that followed me home this time. And they won’t fucking leave me alone.” Bernie cocked the gun and shoved the barrel up against his temple. “Why won’t they go away? ”
“Bernie!” I gasped, as he rocked his head to the side, pushing harder against the weapon he held steady at his head. My body ran cold, spiders crawling beneath my skin as I stared at what he was threatening to do.
“You scared, Kat? Does death scare you?” he asked, his voice sounding so unlike him while another tear slid down his cheek.
“Yes, it does,” I whispered, my voice cracking as he tightened his index finger on the trigger.
“See? Death should scare me.”
“Don’t do it,” I whispered, but he seemed to not be listening or notice I’d spoken.
“Rational people are scared of death,” he continued.
“Bernie, please,” I pleaded again.
He smiled wickedly, his eyes black. “But death is the only thing that makes fucking sense to me.”
And he squeezed the trigger.
“No!” I cried out.
Lunging forward, I crashed against his arm as the gun simply clicked.
Clicked .
As my knees slammed into the sleeping bag on either side of his waist, he barely budged from my movement despite being drunk. My fingers dug into his arm, my heart racing.
“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” I screamed, tears flooding down my cheeks.
His head lazily flopped sideways toward me, once again, a world away. “We weren’t even friends at first. I didn’t like him. He was way too quiet, too…exact in his ways,” he muttered, and slowly, his arm lowered, drawing my hands and the gun away from his head. Bernie gestured to my left, to the opposite side of him, and there on the ground was the magazine. Empty. The bullets sat scattered around it.
He’d known this entire time that squeezing that trigger wouldn’t actually do anything.
Yet, he’d still squeezed it.
Returning my gaze to Bernie, it was only then that I realized how both hollow and heavy he looked. As if split between two lives, two worlds. As if two separate beings were crammed into one soul.
Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as Bernie’s gaze shifted. Every haunting, dark feature upon his face flipped into something of anguish and pain. “I’m drowning, Kat, and I don’t know how to make it stop,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine.
“It’s okay,” I whispered and placed a hand against his cheek.
He slowly shook his head, unblinking as if attempting to remain whole. “I don’t want you to try and save me.”
I gave him a tender smile and slid my other hand down his arm, wrapping my fingers around the gun. It may have been unloaded. It may not even have a mag in it, but I needed him to focus on just me.
“I’m not worth saving,” he added beneath his breath.
I furrowed my brows, feeling his fingers tighten around the gun as he pulled his other hand out from under me.
“I don’t even like drinking alcohol,” he continued and tossed the flask down beside the bullets .
Slowly, I slipped my hand from his cheek and threaded it through the back of his hair. He closed his eyes, his features tightening beneath my touch.
“Funny since the first time I met you, you were absolutely wasted then too,” I whispered.
He chuckled. “Everyone expects me to always be happy. To always crack jokes. Even my mom asked what’s wrong with me lately.”
“Bernie,” I began and finally managed to shove the gun out from his hold. The moment the metal released from his fingers, I tossed it away and scooted closer to him. “I don’t expect any of that. So, please. Just… talk to me.”
He shook his head, his face even with mine, and I ignored the pungent liquor on his breath.
“Tell me. Let me drown with you so we can swim together,” I said again. “Who’s Duncan?”
He exhaled heavily, silence filling the space between us. The sound of crickets rose through the night air and an owl hooted. I continued to sweep my fingers back and forth through his hair, and his breathing slowed.
Then, with a rush of gentle exhaustion, he spoke. “The reason I was in Arlington.” His confession danced quietly into my ears. “The reason my whole team was there. The entire group of people you said were very loud and crude.”
My cheeks flamed pink as he leaned back and his hand wrapped around the back of my head. Slowly, he brought me forward and cradled me against his chest. I remained silent and slid my palms down, tucking them around his waist .
“Seven years ago, I met Duncan. He was this scrappy guy, wiry but strong. Fucking smart. Made me feel like an idiot,” he began, and I glanced up at him. He gave me a small smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I come across like an actual idiot.”
I tucked back against his chest, feeling my heart rate slow as he draped his arms around me, cocooning me into him. “Anyway, the guy was precise. His math, his statistics, every little thing about our missions had to be calculated to the exact decimal point. He often got pissed at my shit in the beginning because I didn’t see the need to be so particular. We didn’t get along at first either. He thought I was too loud, which I can be, and I thought he was too uptight, too quiet. Then, one day, after one of our missions, I came out of the showers and found him eating my mom’s cookies she’d sent.”
I gripped his shirt tighter, cuddling into him and falling into the steady thump of his heart but remained silent. I had so many questions, but they could be asked later. Right now, he needed to talk.
His chin plopped against the top of my head. “Anyway, I didn’t bother putting my shit away and stopped directly in front of him. Staring down at him, I knew he knew exactly what I was accusing him of and without breaking eye contact with me, he shoved an entire cookie in his mouth.”
A gentle rumble bounced through his chest, the memory clearly swirling in his head. “I was shocked and said ‘Damn. I didn’t think that would fit.’ He didn’t fucking miss a beat, didn’t blink, and said, ‘That’s exactly what your mom said last night.’ I nearly died from both shock and laughter. After that, everything was different. Hell , he was the one who always went along with my Halloween pranks even when Ford wouldn’t. ”
“Bernie?” I quietly said, piping up for the first time during his story.
“Hmmm?” he asked, the sound vibrating against my head.
“What happened to him?”
I felt his chest deflate. “He was killed, Kit Kat. Shot standing right behind me as I laughed at his damn joke. The last fucking thing he heard was me, being the usual idiot that I am.”
“Shot? Killed?” I questioned and pried myself away from his chest. Glancing up at him, I furrowed my brows. “I’m so sorry if I sound ignorant, but I have to ask. Do you not sit on some ship? We’re not, like, actively battling anyone right now, are we?”
He smiled, finally actually smiled. “Sweetheart, no, we’re not in an active major war right now, but we’re always fighting someone. And no, I also don’t just sit on some ship somewhere.”
“But your ID said Navy?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so then you’re in some office on a base?”
He grinned even wider and slid me away, cupping my cheeks and tilting my head up. My hands rested against his waist as his eyes began sparkling again. “Kit Kat, I’m a Special Forces Operator in the Navy. I’m a SEAL.”
My mouth fell open. Disbelief coursing through me as cold as ice. “You’re a Navy fucking SEAL?”
“Yes, Kat.”
“Damn.”
He chuckled and slid his hands down my arms, wrapping them around my back again.
“Just…damn,” I stated again, staring at his mossy green eyes .
“Thought that was my line,” he whispered.
Slithering through the pain swirling in the air, came a modicum of ease as he recognized my quip.
And then the disbelief had me widening my eyes in embarrassed horror. “Oh my gosh. And I have totally said some very insensitive things to you. Why wouldn’t you tell me this? Why would you let me say things like I did?”
Bernie smiled gently and looked over my head. “I don’t really go around saying anything because most of the shit I do, I can’t actually talk about. Plus, seeing you squirm right now makes it all worth it.”
“Oh you ass,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. His grin widened as I continued. “So, your team is one where they black out your faces in pictures.”
He nodded again. “Yep.”
“And what is it you do…exactly? If you can tell me.”
“I’m an explosives officer. I deal with all kinds of bombs.”
“Ah. And I’m assuming that Duncan was killed in a mission gone sideways or something?”
Bernie’s grin immediately fell from his face. “No. We were successful. Target eliminated.”
Cold. Short. His words held malice that sliced as sharply as shears through wool.
There it was, that hollowness back in his gaze. So lost. So burdened.
“Maybe to whoever you report to. But I can only imagine…” I whispered, and his brows pulled together, tightly creasing.
“How do you do that?” he quietly asked.
“Do…what?” I scooted closer .
“Make me talk about shit. I don’t need you thinking I’m a monster, too. I already know I am. I would like just one person in my—”
“You’re not a monster, Bernie.”
He shook his head, knotting his jaw. “I chose this shit, Kat. Don’t you get that? I went to college. I could’ve done something else, but I chose to enlist. I chose to go through BUD/S. I chose this life. Duncan didn’t. He had no other option. It was just him and his mom after his dad bailed on them for some other chick. He grew up so fucking poor, he shouldn’t have survived, but somehow he did. The only out for him, the only way for him to have something better was the military. I didn’t. My parents sacrificed everything needed so I could go to college, and I chose—”
“You didn’t choose for him to die, Bernie. Some people are just meant to do the things that most of us can’t. You’re meant to do the things the rest of us can’t.” I raised a hand and placed it against his cheek.
He closed his eyes. “I’m no hero, Kat. I don’t think you get it.”
“Try me.”
“I like it. The chaos, the violence, I thrive in it. My head is quiet when I’m out there. I’m really good at it. I can pretty much build a bomb from almost anything, and I crave that. I need that adrenaline rush just to…just to feel something.” His words seared hot, like iron straight from the kiln.
“The bronc. Even castrating. Your impulsive tendencies. Sneaking into my room,” I whispered, realizing why he had so easily agreed to those things. It all made sense, and he slowly nodded.
“The thing is, people have said shit like ‘Oh, but I bet before you joined, you didn’t have those issues.’ But they’re wrong. Hell, other than me thinking a grenade is about to go off when someone does something as simple as clicking a pen now, I was impulsive before. I’ve always been this way.” He opened his eyes and exhaled.
“And… How do I fit into all of this?” I hesitantly asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t ask me something you don’t want an answer to.”
“But I do want an answer,” I quickly replied, and he dug his fingers into me.
“Please don’t take this as what it’s not, but you make my head quiet. You are—”
“A distraction.” I looked up at him, and his gaze met mine.
Slowly, he pulled his lips into a thin line and nodded.
I stared at him, unsure of what to think or feel. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.
A distraction. I was nothing more than something to keep his mind away from all of the insanity that was his life. I was a tool to keep the demons he constantly fought at bay. Only temporarily, though, it seemed.
“I already said that this can’t be—”
“More than whatever it is. I know,” I interjected.
He narrowed his gaze. “You keep interrupting me, you know that?”
I took a deep breath but kept my mouth shut. Despite what he said, despite the reiterated emphasizing that I wasn’t anything more than something to keep him from thinking about shit he hated, there was a truth hidden between his words I wasn’t sure he recognized. As if he had to say it more than once to remind himself that I wasn’t anything more to him.
“Don’t,” he whispered, as if reading my thoughts. “Don’t get your hopes up. ”
“My hopes, or yours?” I replied quietly.
His jaw knotted as he tipped his head back and let his lashes flutter down over his eyes. “What happened to you not picking up on my stupid hints? Especially ones I’m making unintentionally that I’m not even sure I’m actually making?”
I smiled to myself. “That all went away when I had confirmation you were flirting with me.”
His lips twitched upwards. “And now? Now that you know how fucked up I am?”
I slung my arms around his neck, and he cautiously opened his eyes. “I’m not looking for an angel, Bernie.”
He cocked a brow, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. “Be careful what you wish for, Kit Kat.”
Rocking onto my knees, I pressed my chest against his as his hands slid down to my hips. “Maybe I’m wanting a distraction too,” I whispered, leaning forward.
His eyes flickered to my lips. “What are you wanting to forget?” He inched closer, the velvet of his kiss dusting my mouth.
“The fact that my life is planned out for me by someone else.” My heart raced, my stomach swirling with excitement as he dug his fingers into my skin. This “distraction” was in my control. Bernie was my choice, no matter the consequences. No matter how absolutely messed up this entire situation was, for a moment, I at least had a choice.
And I crushed my lips against his.