Chapter Three
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“No, Catori… thank you.”
Catori didn’t stay where she was to watch Josh leave.
Instead she closed the door and then once again leaned her head back onto the hard surface of the allegorical exit.
Nothing that had taken place in the last hour, or last night even, had changed her or given her the peace of mind she thought she’d get.
In fact, having meaningless sex with someone as sweet and young as Josh had left her feeling somewhat dejected.
Pushing herself off what they referred to in the Corps as the Endex, she threw the deadbolt, not that it would keep anyone out if they were determined to get in.
What she needed was a hot shower, hoping like hell it washed away this pitiful solitude.
Catori made her way through the living room and into the small bedroom.
The older furniture in here wasn’t any better than what was throughout the house.
A mattress with sheets, one bedside table, and a dresser consisted of the boudoir, but considering she’d slept on a fold out canvas cot most of her time in the field, she wouldn’t complain.
Plus, this house held a place in her heart that no five-star hotel could ever take.
Catori spun the knob for the water, doing her best not to mull over the fact that she’d just brought a man into a special place that had been only hers and Red’s.
She peeled off her clothes and waited for the water to steam before stepping underneath the plentiful lines of water.
She faced the showerhead, letting the hot beads rain down over her body.
She hadn’t stopped to think that bringing Josh here would sully her memories with Red.
She’d just wanted to feel something, anything other than this tortured seclusion she’d done to herself.
Tears were now mixing with the water and Catori was unable to stop them.
She would have thought that she had no more, but the grief would always hit her out of nowhere and produce more.
She didn’t want more, but whenever she tried to prevent them they continued in droves.
Now was no different. She’d ruined their special place.
What would Red think of that? Whether on purpose or without thought, she’d sullied their memories and she would never get them back.
Catori leaned on the shower wall as the reality of what she’d done sank in, lowering herself to the floor as sob after sob wracked her body.
She placed her arms around her legs and rested her forehead on top of her knees as she tried to breathe.
Why did he leave her? Why didn’t he fight harder to stay alive?
Why hadn’t she been there to save him or at least be taken with him?
This was the worst punishment imaginable, being left alone with no one to share her pain.
There wasn’t a day that passed that she hadn’t wondered what she’d done to deserve this sentence of loneliness.
She’d never again feel his hands on her body.
She’d never get to taste his lips or hear him sing in the shower. She’d been abandoned.
The ill-fated phone call echoed through Catori’s mind as if it were happening now.
The words saying that Red and the team hadn’t checked in at the designated time had been a blow, but she’d never once considered they’d been killed.
She would have felt it—an icy claw around her heart.
Once the twelve-hour mark had passed and then the twenty-four hour check had come and gone, she’d reached out to some officials she’d had contact with at the State Department.
She’d scrambled for days to figure out a way into the hostile territory, but some kind of incident had provoked the combatants.
Thinking she’d be better off to use whatever resources she’d had through Red Starr HRT’s contacts, it wasn’t until later that she’d realized going in herself would have provided her more answers.
No survivors. Fire had been exchanged, along with grenades, mortars, and artillery.
The village had been burned to the ground.
Decimated. Nothing of value was left, so the bodies had been thrown into a mass grave, burned and then what remained had been buried.
These phrases were said over and over until Catori had thrown up the contents of her stomach.
She hadn’t known one could get physically ill over grief, but she’d experienced it firsthand.
She went into denial for the longest time, using every resource available for more confirmation. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Why, Red?” Catori whispered hoarsely, leaning her head back against the ceramic tile. “Why would you leave me here alone?”
She knew it was unfair of her to ask such a question.
It wasn’t like he’d had a choice and it sure as hell wasn’t like he was going to answer.
Her chest hurt from the pain and there wasn’t a single moment that went by when it wasn’t there.
She’d learned to live with it but would have given anything to have it go away.
The only person who could do that was Red and he wasn’t here anymore.
He would never be here. He wasn’t ever coming back.
Had he thought of her in those last few moments?
Had he called out her name? The one uncertainty that constantly whirled around in her mind was if he’d suffered.
How long had it been before he’d stopped breathing, thus ending his suffering?
The questions never stopped and they haunted her every night, triggering nightmares of artillery strikes that were beyond her conception.
Catori wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting in the ceramic tub of the shower, but the chill of the water finally registered.
She rose to her knees and grappled with the handle, trying to turn it off.
She used the knob to help her stand and tried to wipe away the tears.
Shivering and trying to stop her teeth from chattering, she opened the shower door and saw the pitiful reflection of herself in the mirror.
Catori didn’t know the woman who stared back at her.
Her Native American heritage was evident in her long black hair, bronze skin, and dark brown, almost black eyes.
She now resembled an apparition of who she once was.
Her hair was nowhere near the vibrant shiny black it was in its natural state.
It hung in strands as if she were deathly sick.
The skin under her eyes looked haunted and her cheeks had become gaunt.
As for her eyes, there was no soul present—black as a pit.
It had departed this earth the moment she’d heard her husband had left her alone.
Not bothering with a towel, knowing there was no warmth to be had there, Catori exited the bathroom and walked across the room.
She opened a window to allow some of the humidity inside and could just make out the sound of the waves as they continued to crash onto the sand.
She was glad she hadn’t turned on a light in the bedroom as she made her way to the bed.
She curled up in the middle of the mattress, hugging one of the pillows tight against her chest.
Catori knew she couldn’t go on like this.
She’d come to the realization that bringing another man here might have been her way of letting go.
Subconsciously, that was. She’d been lost for so long that she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Exhaustion settled over her, but sleep was elusive as usual.
No matter how many times the plaguing questions came to the forefront there were never any solutions.
As Catori’s muscles finally loosened enough and her chills subsided, her thoughts finally drifted to the folder that was sitting in the living room.
Did she have it in her to start over? As physically exhausted as she was now, she wasn’t certain if she was up to the task.
If she took that step she would have to be intimately involved with each and every hostage rescue mission that took place.
Never again would she put herself in the position of hearing through back channels or secondary comms that her team hadn’t made it out—that her husband wasn’t coming home.
Catori stared out through the sheer curtains, catching glimpses of the moonlight as the clouds rolled through underneath.
Had today’s events been a sign? Was Red somewhere out there looking out for her, knowing she’d reached her limit?
Again, questions that would forever remain unanswered.
She promised herself that come morning she would look at the dossiers that Crest had put together for her.
Whether or not she carried through with the task ahead was another matter altogether.
One thing was for certain…if she were to direct another team, she would never change the name.
Red Starr HRT would always and forever carry the title of her husband, for he would always remain yah-ik-tee.