Page 82 of What I Should Have Done

Rage for Mikey and my team surged through me as hot as the volts of electricity that once coursed within my veins. I wanted to rush forward and crack a fist against Reyes’s jaw. He had no right to say any of that. It wasn’t Mikey’s fault. Adrenaline prickled in my veins as I waited for Mikey to deal a blow that would leave a mark.

But it never came. All Mikey did was tip his head, twitching as if he’d just emerged from a horror movie. In fact, Mikey simply stared at them, unmoving, unspeaking. Eventually, Reyes pursed his lips and nodded at his buddies. “Let’s go. This loser isn’t worth shit,” he muttered. The three soldiers walked away, leaving Mikey standing alone.

I took a few steps forward, purposefully moving noisily, but Mikey didn’t even glance over his shoulder. Instead, he disappeared around a tent as quickly as he could.

Snapping my teeth together, I glared at the space that he left completely empty. He’d known it was me, he had to. Pissed off over Reyes being more of an ass than usual, annoyed with Mikey ignoring me over the past three days, angry that he’d left while I was confessing something very vulnerable with him, and just overall frustrated with everything, I spun on my heel.

There was one thing I could fix.

Mikey was going to speak to me if it was the last thing I attempted.

Clutching my toiletries to my chest, I ducked beneath the tent flap and then snapped it closed behind me. Not a sound emanated around me. The lights were dim, as Mikey seemed to have only turned a couple on. I’d expected running water, or the sloshing of soap against skin, but there wasn’t even a steady plunk of liquid dripping from a recently used faucet.

Quietly, I crept to the right toward the shower stalls. The curtain was closed on the second stall, while the other was pushed open. Glancing beneath the rim that hung an inch off of the ground, I saw feet resting next to his boots.

My heart trilled nervously in my chest. As silently as I could, I returned to the first stall, plopped my things down on the bench, and then crept back to his. Pausing in front of the curtain, my hand trembled. I shouldn’t do this. I should turn away.

But the anger that hardened in my heart pushed me forward. Slinging the curtain back, my eyes darted to Mikey, who sat as still as a brick on the bench. He wore nothing but his boxers. I remained standing at the entrance, one hand clutching the plastic curtain.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t react to my presence. And the fuse lit.

“You piece of shit,” I snarled.

Mikey blinked, but still didn’t move.

Rage burned like a forest fire through my veins. “Fine. If you’re not going to say anything, you can just fucking listen because you hurt me. I was vulnerable with you. I expressed things to you that I should’ve just kept to myself, and then you ignored me for three fucking days? And you’re still ignoring me now!” I threw my hands in the air, the curtain rustling as it fell out of my grip.

“But you want to know what hurts the most? In the middle of me telling you how broken I was, you got up and left. To go take a fucking piss that I don’t think even happened!” I stomped into the stall and crossed my arms, steam rolling from my ears.

He didn’t look up, his eyes remained fixed on something behind me, as if he stared through my legs. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he muttered. His voice so quiet it sounded almost defeated.

My brows snapped together. “Then what the hell have you been doing? Because we haven’t spoken in three days, Mikey.”

“Working, Scotch.”

“Working.” I shook my head. “Working on—” I closed my own mouth as Mikey finally lifted his ocean eyes to mine. He leaned back, resting his hands in his lap. “Reyes said to quit snooping around the IT tent,” I muttered in recognition.

He nodded. “I don’t think he realizes what my rate is. Or Duncan’s. Which means, he doesn’t exactly realize that as Intel Specialists, we have authority to use the equipment.”

“I mean, we in the Army always address by rank, not rate like you special folks in the Navy,” I teased lightheartedly. He gave me a tight smile but didn’t respond, so I continued speaking. “Alright, IS1, tell me what work you and Chief are doing?”

“Trying to find other possible ways of locating the Black Box.” He pulled his lips into a straight line and then looked away. “And running through ideas of who the mole might be plus who paid to have you kidnapped.”

I nodded, inhaling deeply. The anger subsided. “Any leads?”

“Sorry, Scotch, but I can’t exactly discuss that with you.”

“Why not?” And the frustration was back.

“A rat is a pretty sensitive topic and a major accusation. So, Duncan and I are keeping that shit to ourselves and our superior until we have concrete proof or come up empty.”

“So everyone gets to know but me?”

“No, Scottie.” He rose from the bench, his features pulling tight. “Stop making this entire thing about you. Believe it or not, not all of this shit revolves around you.”

“I’m not making it about me!”

“No? Do you hear yourself?! You barged in on my requested alone time to ask why you’re being ignored? Which, as I just explained, I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m working. And then you also came in here to yell at me for hurting you during your vulnerable time. Which, I can’t figure out how I did because I listened to everything you had to say.”

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