Page 20 of Broken Mountain Man

I shake my head ruefully, a humorless chuckle escaping. "Looking back, we were just a couple of naive kids buying into the hype without a clue..."

My trailing words hitch as the first flashes of memory assault me - the sweating slog of basic training, the dry mouth fear of being deployed overseas for the first time. My hands start to tremble tellingly.

Before I can second-guess myself, Lyla reaches out and clasps one of my shaking hands firmly between hers.

"I'm right here," she murmurs, holding my gaze as she gives a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Take your time."

Drawing strength from her grounding presence, I forge onward.

"We were so damn happy when we finally got called up to a war zone," I continue, "Felt like real heroes about to go save some lives, you know? Like we were invincible." I bark out aharsh, mirthless laugh. "I quickly learned it wasn't quite the brotherhood fairytale they sell in the recruitment videos. There was no camaraderie, no one watching your back. We were just a bunch of grunts left to fend for ourselves in that hellhole."

Lyla's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't interject. Instead, she squeezes my hand in mute support as I do my best to continue.

"I saw...things over there that still give me nightmares to this day. But that wasn't even the worst of it." My free hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist beneath the water's surface. "Aaron went out on a routine patrol one day...without me. And he never came back."

The anguish rises like bile in my throat as I violently slam my fist down, sending up an eruption of water droplets. Lyla instinctively flinches back, shoulders tensing.

"Hey," I croak out roughly, "you don't have to be afraid of me, okay? I would never..."

But she's already shaking her head adamantly.

"I could never be afraid of you, Russell. I know you're a good person down to your core."

Her unshakable belief in my decency steals the breath from my lungs.

Am I, though? The flicker of doubt ignites like a slow burn.

"Aaron's squad was ambushed that day," I finally grit out, powering through the lump in my throat. "I begged to be allowed to join a team to extract them, but my superiors wouldn't authorize it. Like my best friend's life meant nothing to them. None of the lives did."

"They didn't even let you try to save your best friend?" Lyla's voice is soft with dismay.

I shake my head jerkily.

"I get it. They didn't want to risk more lives over a mission that was likely already a lost cause. But what kind of soldier leaves their brothers behind like that? I should have been there with him. I should have..." I trail off, unable to voice the horrible thought aloud.

Lyla's palm connects with my cheek in a sharp slap, the crack of skin on skin loud in the stillness. I recoil, gaping at her incredulously.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"No," she retorts fiercely, eyes blazing. "But you must be out of yours if you're honestly thinking you should have died alongside your friend that day. Would your best friend be happy hearing you say that?"

I grit my teeth, working my jaw against the sting of her words and the lingering sting on my face.

"Aaron would've been pissed as hell to hear me talking like that," I admit roughly. "He was always the upbeat one, the life of every party. And ever since he's been gone, I..."

I swallow hard, the confession like shards of glass in my throat. "I haven't been able to enjoy life the way he would've wanted. I couldn't even go out without getting blind drunk until I could barely walk. That's why I had to escape and come out here."

"So, you just ran away from everything?" Lyla asks, brow furrowed.

I shake my head, "It wasn't like that. I just...needed some time to myself to process everything, you know? Get my head on straight again. But then that time just kept stretching out longer and longer until I got too used to the isolation. Felt like I had nothing tying me back to reality anymore."

Lyla's hand comes up to rest on my shoulder, her touch warm even through the cool lake water.

"But don't you miss any of it? Talking to other people, human interaction and contact?"

I flinch instinctively at her physical gesture, my body tensing. A large part of me knows I should brush her off and re-establish those boundaries. But an even bigger part craves her nearness's solace, the simple comfort of another person's presence surrounding me.

My gaze drops to her parted lips, noticing for the first time just how full and rosy they are. Without meaning to, I imagine how soft they would feel pressed against my own chapped mouth.

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