Page 58 of What I Should Have Done

“Is that all you want it to be?” he asked, his voice so low, it blended in with the howling of the storm outside. I sucked in the side of my cheek, studying him.

“That’s all it can be,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure why it hurt so much. The twinge in my heart as those words left my mouth shot a pang of discomfort through my entire body. Unexpected. He wasn’t more than a friend, so why did it bother me to voice that boundary?

“Understood,” he mumbled.

And my entire soul shattered.

Turning away, I wrapped my arms around myself. Hollowness filled my heart.

I hadn’t even realized it had been so full of Mikey until he accepted my boundary. But no man, not another person was worth ruining my career over. My job, my position as an excellent sniper, was all I had in this world.

So, why did I suddenly feel so empty?

So absolutely alone…

Chapter 20

MIKEY

Iwas right. The moment that she saw the demon I was, she tucked tail and left. Having her as a friend was something I had been willing to settle for, because that was better than not having her at all. But now, I’d lost her completely.

“So,” she asked, picking at her bootlaces. She sat at the far side of this cave, which wasn’t really that far away, but felt like an impassable amount. “Why’d you join the military?”

I simply looked at her. If she wanted to keep me at arm's length, then she could stay there. Which meant asking for personal shit like that was not in her purview right now.

“Why not?” I replied, casually.

Pain swam across her gaze. Immediately, I regretted my snippy answer, but there was nothing to do about it now.

“Mikey…” Her voice cracked.

“Why’d you join?” I countered, looking away from her at the back wall.

I heard her sharply inhale and then silence. The wind whistled outside of this small shelter, and through the slit we’d squeezed under, nothing but red sand whirled, blacking out anything from view.

“I went to college first. Like the good girl I thought my foster parents wanted,” she began, her gentle voice breaking. “They didn’t even show up when I graduated with my mechanical engineering degree. No phone call or nothing.” Slowly, my eyes drifted from the wall to Scottie. She pulled her knees up to chest as I remained silent.

“Anyway, I remembered how proud they were when my two oldest foster brothers joined the Marine Corps—their only biological kids. They kept boasting about them to everyone in town. When the two of them graduated boot camp, the entire time they were home before their first deployment was non-stop partying. I’d always looked up to them; I mean, they’re the ones that first taught me how to shoot when I was seven. So, I thought well, it wasn’t like I enjoyed college that much, so why the hell not.” Her bottom lip trembled, barely visible in the dim light of the glow stick by my side.

“I went with the Army to be a little different, you know? Well, boot camp came and went, and nothing. I was tapped out by another soldier. I called them, two days later, and they couldn’t stop talking about how my oldest foster brother just made colonel. My drill sergeant talked about how my marksmanship was off the charts, so I thought, hell, if I could do something like be the first woman to graduate from sniper school, they couldn’t gloss that over right?” She chuckled to herself.

“Boy how wrong I was. I haven’t heard from them since that phone call two days after boot camp.” Her breath hitched, and I wasn’t sure if I should say something or not. “Anyway, I don’t regret it, because I’m good at it and rather enjoy it. But yeah, that’s why.”

“Do you hear from your foster brothers?” I hesitantly asked.

She shook her head. “Not really. The second oldest was KIA during his second tour, and after that, the oldest just kinda disappeared. I don’t think he told his parents that he made colonel; I honestly believe that they just kept tabs on him.”

“Why do you call them foster parents and foster brothers? Weren’t you raised by them?” I wasn’t even sure if that was appropriate to ask, but she was being open with me—a rare change. A twinge of guilt vibrated in my heart. I’d closed her out, harshly, and here she was being vulnerable with me.

“They never adopted me. The two oldest were, like I said, their biological kids, the rest of us were all fostered by them. They never adopted any of us,” she explained, her voice trailing off.

All she wanted was to make the people who were supposed to love her proud. Which was something I could relate to, though I’d failed miserably.

“Anyway,” she rapidly said and inhaled sharply. “That’s why.”

“I was quickly headed down a path that would’ve landed me in prison or six feet under,” I bluntly stated, knowing that if I waited, the courage gained from listening to her story would’ve quickly fled.

“Huh?” she asked, her brows knitting together.

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