Page 36 of What I Should Have Done

“Yes, sir,” Bernie muttered, pursing his lips in shame, and stuffed it back in his rucksack.

“Did you not listen during the debrief, Mikey?” Dom shook his head, ignoring Bernie.

Furrowing my brows, I turned to Dom while unhooking the holster from around my thigh. “I did…”

Half truth.

Dom shook his head. “Colonel Duke says we’re good to shower now if we so choose. The rest of us can wipe up, but you and Scottie need an actual shower.”

I chuckled. “Right, it’s just been a long day.”

“Damn straight, Imma head to the chow hall. See what they’ve got ’cause my stomach won’t shut the fuck up,” Bernie answered.

“Count me in!” Duncan cheerily said, peeling off his combat shirt.

“Damn…fucking…thing…” Ford grumbled, trying to pry his off his body. Propping myself up on my heels, I watched him struggling to shake the sweat-soaked clothing over his head.

“Need some help there, big boy?” Bernie offered, wiggling his brows.

“Shut the fuck up, Bernie,” Ford grunted, his voice muffled beneath his shirt.

“I think we should give those two some…privacy.” Dom winked and stood up as Duncan made smoochy sounds.

“Dumbasses,” Ford mumbled, finally getting his head out. “Go eat your fucking food, Bernie.”

I chuckled, gathering my few toiletries and a clean uniform. My last clean pair as it seemed, which reminded me it was time for some hand scrubbing to at least get some of the blood and stink out of my other uniforms.

The men around me rose, disappearing from the tent engrossed in the usual crude humor and banter that sounded like home. Leaving me alone with Scottie, who still remained sitting still as a statue on her bedroll.

Straining my ears to make sure that their voices faded—though I wasn’t sure why I thought checking on a teammate crossed a boundary—I waited until there wasn’t anything more than the echo of the usual sounds of soldiers at a combat outpost that met my ear before turning around.

And a single tear slipped from Scottie’s eye. She didn’t even blink.

I quickly shot over to her and knelt down in front of her as she slowly inhaled. Her glassy eyes didn’t register that I was right in front of her. Hesitating for a moment, my hand raised and hovered over her left cheek.

She exhaled slowly, her shoulders collapsing forward, and she closed her eyes as my thumb made contact with the tear stain. My entire body flushed warm upon contact. I swept the tear away, but for whatever reason, I felt no need to remove my hand.

Scottie sniffed, but she made no move to say anything, nor did I. There was nothing that I could say that would fix whatever was going on in her head. Guilt swam heavy in my belly as she leaned against my palm. She should not have been left alone. Especially in an urban setting like that. I should not have let her be left alone with the responsibility of being the entire team’s eyes resting on her shoulders.

Warm and soft beneath my hand, I swept my thumb gently over her cheek. The adrenaline that had so thickly run through my veins subsided drastically from this simple contact. A shiver danced down my spine, urging my body to stay awake no matter how comfortable it became.

And I knew if I stayed this close to her for too long, I’d not make it to the shower.

Inhaling deeply, I reluctantly peeled my palm from her face and rose to my feet. A chill swept between us, sending goosebumps across my skin despite the heat of the desert, begging me to return to her.

But instead, I snatched up my toiletries and left the tent without a word. Meandering my way through the outpost, the looks tossed my way by passing soldiers just waking for the day were rightfully earned. The sight of the blood on my face without context certainly would be a conversation had behind my back for a while.

Slipping to the right, I disappeared back toward the two-man shower tent. Staring at the tan canvas with the plastic door flapping in the breeze, I couldn’t help but chuckle. They were…accommodations alright. Fancier than the holes in the ground we called toilets, there was adequate lighting inside as well as running water piped in through a tank that was refilled frequently. At least for a few minutes out of my day, I would have some privacy.

Ducking under, I plodded over to one of two cubicles in this small shower tent and unsnapped the plastic curtain. Drawing in a deep breath, all the stress from today rolled off my shoulders. I closed my eyes and placed my stuff on the crudely crafted wooden bench to the side of this small, square shower stall. While the water wasn’t heated, at least for a brief moment there would be a feeling of simplicity. No urgency.

Peeling my own bloodied uniform from my body, I tossed it carelessly to the side of my neatly folded towel and clean clothes and stepped under the spout mounted directly above a temporary basin that would allow for the water to drain without making a massive mess.

Cool water flowed down my skin, washing the reminder of our failed mission from my body. I tipped my head back and scrubbed the blood from my face, quickly soaped and rinsed, and then simply stood still.

The shower was off. But so was my body.

The events of the mission flashed over and over in my head—a grateful distraction from Scottie. Until, of course, those thoughts of the mission ended with her returning late. Not just late, but bloodied, limping, and just out of it.

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