Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose.
This was how Leighton differed from everyone else. Had this been an ex-girlfriend—while we were dating—I would’ve ignored the problem and said shit would work out one way or another. Sometimes I accepted an assignment just so I could fuck off for a few weeks. And by the time I came home again, the previous issue would’ve been forgotten.
I didn’t wanna forget anything now. It was the opposite; I was constantly thinking back and analyzing my behavior to make sure I didn’t hurt him by being thoughtless. Well, except for when I managed to hurt him by deliberately being the dick who avoided him.
That had to stop.
Whether I liked it or not, he was part of today’s op, and he deserved a good unit commander. Not one who made him walk on eggshells.
“Recruit,” I said, nodding toward the forest on my left side. “I’d like a word.”
The instant nervousness in his expression was my fault.
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
I took the lead and walked toward the western sector, where I knew we had people on the lookout along the outer perimeter.
He trailed after me in silence.
I looked around to find a spot where we could have some privacy.
The scenery didn’t change in these woods. Maples, red oaks, and some other trees shared the forest, painting it orange this time of year. Especially now, closer to sunset.
We had about an hour’s worth of daylight left, and once I’d spoken to Leighton, it would be time to round up everyone for a strategy talk.
I came to a stop between two tall trees and looked back. Nobody could hear or see us from here.
He adjusted his helmet and stood straighter, his operator-in-training replacement for the poses drilled into his skull in the service. He still thought it felt unnatural to be so relaxed in his stance.
Time for honesty.
“I owe you an apology,” I said. His eyes flashed with surprise. “When I found out you were involved today—and trapped in that van with Coach—I almost lost my shit.” I cleared my throat and felt weirdly exposed, but he deserved to hear this. “If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
His expression softened.
“The problem is, when I worry about you, I miss out on your progress,” I went on. “I bury every accomplishment under a pile of downsides, concerns, and…whatever. I just see what you need to get better at—which, at your level, is still a lot. It is too soon for you to work in the field.” I firmly believed that. Objectively. “But, as Coach pointed out to me, we’ve had the rare opportunity to see what you can handle when shit hits the fan, and it’s more than I’ve given you credit for. So—” Fuck, this was hard. My chest felt all tight and shit. “Coach and Hudson clearly think you should be here tonight, so that’s what’s going to happen. There’s a spot for you in the unit.”
He raked his teeth across his bottom lip and tilted his head. “I’m more interested in hearing what you think.”
I drew a breath, and I…had to go with honesty here as well.
“My judgment is clouded by personal feelings I don’t know how to process yet,” I admitted. “You’ve caught me off guard here, pup.”
He did a decent job of concealing how good that felt to hear, but the slight tug of smugness at his lips gave him away.
He was fucking adorable.
“Why, Bo Beckett,” he murmured, “it almost sounds like you’re catching feelings for me. Actual, actual feelings.”
Punk-ass.
“Or the flu,” I said. “Could be the flu too.”
He smiled quickly. There one second, gone the next. “Don’t worry. I know your stance on relationships.”
No, you don’t.
I swallowed past the pressure coming up my throat. “It’s easy to swear off relationships when each one in the past was a fraud.” When every I-love-you felt like a lie, when you had to force actions… I coughed and tried to clear my mind. “I don’t feel like a fraud when I’m with you—but I can’t wrap my head around anything in my personal life when the guy who ordered my brother’s murder is half a klick that way.” I pointed toward our camp. “I hope you understand.”
I’d already killed the motherfucker who had pulled the trigger, but I wanted their leader. He had to die, and he had to suffer.
“Then that’s my priority too.” Leighton took a step forward, resolute. “I’m sorry if my being here has taken some of that focus from you. That was never my intention—and I feel shitty for throwing a pity party for myself when you avoided me. This isn’t about me at all.”
Something cracked inside me, releasing a fuck-ton of pressure, and a breath gusted out of me.
He gets me.
How did he do that? He actually understood what I was saying? He understood my position. He wasn’t trying to change the topic, and he didn’t say, “Well, if we’re doing your thing now, we have to do my thing later.” Or something like, “Okay, fine, but you better make it up to me.”