and the fear didn’t close in on her. Sawyer met his gaze. Tension crackled like lightning between their lips. She felt his breath on her face and watched the blue of his eyes darken a shade. Sawyer licked her lips, her heart beating so hard she tasted her pulse.
“You did good, Sawyer,” he said, his voice thick. Andrew slid her down his body to the ground, making sure she was sturdy on her feet before letting go and taking a couple steps away.
He swallowed, his gaze darting to the ground. Andrew grabbed his duffel and took out two of the electrolyte drinks, handing one to Sawyer. He wouldn’t look at her as he emptied his bottle and replaced the cap. Oh, right. He was seeing Emory.
Well, whatever. She wouldn’t let his weird and grumpy mood dull her high. Besides, she had to be at work in—Sawyer checked her watch—a little over an hour. Just enough time for a bubble bath. Without saying a word, Sawyer turned and walked toward the starting line, figuring she’d find her way back to his truck from there.
“Where are you going?” Andrew sounded a little too amused.
“I have work later.”
He touched her hand. “My truck is back that way.” The idiot grinned and pointed over his shoulder. “Let’s get the stuff and I’ll take you back. Besides, I want to talk to you about something.”
Sawyer groaned. “Not more shrink stuff, I hope.”
They reached a tree with a ladder and Andrew climbed up to unhook it. “The stigma isn’t as big as it was say, ten years ago.” He jumped down and Sawyer held the duffel open while he coiled the ladder up and put it inside. Andrew took the bag from her and motioned on. “Lots of people go.”
She nodded, her insides squirming. “Where I grew up, I’m sure lots of people did it, but you didn’t tell the world, or even recommend a shrink to your neighbors.”
“You make talking to a professional sound like doing drugs.”
Sawyer shrugged. Said nothing.
“Well, Jennifer is great. I see her.”
That shocked her. “You?”
“Yup.” Andrew deftly unhooked the first speed bag and tucked it in his bag. “PTSD. Trying to figure out this shit storm called life.”
“Aren’t we all?” Her sneakers crunched dead leaves. When Andrew didn’t continue, Sawyer asked, “What happened?”
He paused. “You sure you want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked.” If he told Emory, Sawyer wanted to know, too.
He didn’t speak for a long while—they gathered the rest of the equipment in silence and walked back to his truck. When they were both inside, he leaned back in his seat. Gathering his thoughts, probably. She let him have his time, keeping an eye on the clock. If worse came to worse, she could call in. She had never missed a shift, even with her … extra-curricular drinking.
“We were ordered into a village in Afghanistan to help the army keep the peace while a SEAL team went in on the sly. All that week, there’d been firefights and bombers hitting targets at random. Maybe a quarter of the people had taken off. Everyone was restless.”
His biceps bulged and stretched his sleeves until Sawyer thought they’d split open Hulk-style. She slid across the bench seat until her thigh touched his. Andrew relaxed a fraction.
“Nine days in, the fires started,” he continued, his voice strained. “Smoke blocked out satellite view. You couldn’t see shit on the streets past your outstretched arm. We formed chains and tried rescuing people the best we could, going room by room through the houses, but—” Andrew shook his head. “So many dead. Burned alive. What kind of fucking jackass piece of shit nut jobs kill their own people as a distraction?”
She didn’t have an answer. There were “jackass piece of shit nut jobs” everywhere, even on home soil. One of them married her sister.
“On the second day of clean-up, my platoon and I were patching up a couple women and their kids. One of them kept trying to get our attention, but he didn’t
“You did good, Sawyer,” he said, his voice thick. Andrew slid her down his body to the ground, making sure she was sturdy on her feet before letting go and taking a couple steps away.
He swallowed, his gaze darting to the ground. Andrew grabbed his duffel and took out two of the electrolyte drinks, handing one to Sawyer. He wouldn’t look at her as he emptied his bottle and replaced the cap. Oh, right. He was seeing Emory.
Well, whatever. She wouldn’t let his weird and grumpy mood dull her high. Besides, she had to be at work in—Sawyer checked her watch—a little over an hour. Just enough time for a bubble bath. Without saying a word, Sawyer turned and walked toward the starting line, figuring she’d find her way back to his truck from there.
“Where are you going?” Andrew sounded a little too amused.
“I have work later.”
He touched her hand. “My truck is back that way.” The idiot grinned and pointed over his shoulder. “Let’s get the stuff and I’ll take you back. Besides, I want to talk to you about something.”
Sawyer groaned. “Not more shrink stuff, I hope.”
They reached a tree with a ladder and Andrew climbed up to unhook it. “The stigma isn’t as big as it was say, ten years ago.” He jumped down and Sawyer held the duffel open while he coiled the ladder up and put it inside. Andrew took the bag from her and motioned on. “Lots of people go.”
She nodded, her insides squirming. “Where I grew up, I’m sure lots of people did it, but you didn’t tell the world, or even recommend a shrink to your neighbors.”
“You make talking to a professional sound like doing drugs.”
Sawyer shrugged. Said nothing.
“Well, Jennifer is great. I see her.”
That shocked her. “You?”
“Yup.” Andrew deftly unhooked the first speed bag and tucked it in his bag. “PTSD. Trying to figure out this shit storm called life.”
“Aren’t we all?” Her sneakers crunched dead leaves. When Andrew didn’t continue, Sawyer asked, “What happened?”
He paused. “You sure you want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked.” If he told Emory, Sawyer wanted to know, too.
He didn’t speak for a long while—they gathered the rest of the equipment in silence and walked back to his truck. When they were both inside, he leaned back in his seat. Gathering his thoughts, probably. She let him have his time, keeping an eye on the clock. If worse came to worse, she could call in. She had never missed a shift, even with her … extra-curricular drinking.
“We were ordered into a village in Afghanistan to help the army keep the peace while a SEAL team went in on the sly. All that week, there’d been firefights and bombers hitting targets at random. Maybe a quarter of the people had taken off. Everyone was restless.”
His biceps bulged and stretched his sleeves until Sawyer thought they’d split open Hulk-style. She slid across the bench seat until her thigh touched his. Andrew relaxed a fraction.
“Nine days in, the fires started,” he continued, his voice strained. “Smoke blocked out satellite view. You couldn’t see shit on the streets past your outstretched arm. We formed chains and tried rescuing people the best we could, going room by room through the houses, but—” Andrew shook his head. “So many dead. Burned alive. What kind of fucking jackass piece of shit nut jobs kill their own people as a distraction?”
She didn’t have an answer. There were “jackass piece of shit nut jobs” everywhere, even on home soil. One of them married her sister.
“On the second day of clean-up, my platoon and I were patching up a couple women and their kids. One of them kept trying to get our attention, but he didn’t
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