She could, but she didn’t want to. She wanted the best of both worlds. She wanted to stay friends with them, but she didn’t want to go out on missions; she wanted to train Tweety operators.

Likely she wanted more than she could have.

Through her dusty windshield she watched Boom, Snake, Trapper, and Jelly approaching. Levi wasn’t in sight. Either he didn’t want to talk to her because he was furious she’d quit the team, or he wasn’t here. She marked the odds at fifty/fifty.

She climbed out of the car and went to lean against the hood, waiting for them. The scorching August sun beat down on her bare head, sent waves of heat against her sunglasses and forming sweat where the frames touched her face. Maybe if she sweated enough they wouldn’t notice any stray tears.

As they got closer she could see the tension in their expressions, and her stomach twisted. But as they neared, Boom tossed a bottle of water at her and said, “Crutch?”

Automatically she caught the bottle and twisted the cap off, another internal organ affected by the one-word question. “Not Crutch,” she said hurriedly. “Me.”

They formed an arc around her, four big men standing with their boots firmly planted, sweat dripping off them, guzzling from their own water bottles. “You?” Snake asked, sending a quick look down at her feet. “What’s up? You having problems?”

She could just say that she’d been reassigned, which was true as far as that went, but definitely not the whole story. She took a deep breath and sagged against the hood. “I... I quit,” she said, almost strangling on the word. Then she looked down at the ground, because she couldn’t bear looking at them and seeing the disappointment on their faces.

Trapper was the first one who spoke. “Quit? Babe, you never quit anything. A couple of times I thought you’d kill yourself rather than back down.”

“I quit this,” she said in a small voice. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore.”

Boom moved to her side, leaning his bulk on the hood. His deep voice rumbled as he asked, “Is it because of what happened in Syria? You don’t trust us now to take care of you?”

“I could hear,” she said hurriedly, sidestepping the issue of trust because she hadn’t worked through that yet. “My comm was damaged and I couldn’t transmit, but I could hear y’all. I knew Crutch and Voodoo were hurt, I knew you had to get them out. It was on me to get myself to the extraction point. And I did. But I don’t want to do it again.”

They were silent, shuffling their feet a little. She swallowed hard, fought back the impulse to bury her face in her hands and sob. “The thing is... I loved being a part of the team, being with y’all, but the rest of it was something I had to force myself to do. I’m a nerd. I want to do nerdy things, like working with Tweety. I don’t want to be in situations like Syria. I don’t want to be a moron who jumps out of planes, no offense to you morons who think doing that’s normal. I’ll always be a liability to y’all, because deep down my heart isn’t in it.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “So I quit. Mac reassigned me to training the drone operators.”

More silence. Then Jelly said, “So... now that you aren’t on the team, does that mean I can ask you out?”

Jina’s head snapped up, and her mouth fell open. Her expression must have been one of shock and horror, because the other three men started laughing. Jelly wiggled his eyebrows at her, then Snake gave him a quick slap on the back of his head. “Dumb ass,” he said.

“What?” Jelly rubbed the back of his head. “Ace said no fraternizing when she joined the team, but she isn’t on the team now, right? So—fraternizing.”

Aghast, Jina pointed an accusing finger at him. “You made me get a tattoo,” she said. She liked her tattoo, but still. “No. Way.”

He assumed an innocent expression. “You could have said no to the tattoo.”

“I know that. Doesn’t matter.”

Boom straightened away from the car, heaved a sigh. “I wish you would still be with us,” he said. “Damn.”

“I know.” And she did. “Being a part of the team was great; it was doing what the team does that wasn’t great.”

Boom blew out a breath. “Does Ace know yet?”

“Not unless Mac has contacted him. I thought he’d be here. I was going to tell everyone at once.” But he wasn’t here, which meant she’d have to go through all of this again, but with someone who wouldn’t be as accepting.

Boom looked at her, studied the misery in her expression. “I’ll tell him for you, if you want me to.”

Relief flooded her and she said, “Yes, please,” the two words tumbling on top of each other in their hurry to get out of her mouth. Quitting was hard enough as it was. Dealing with Levi was still more than she could handle.

The doorbell ringing at night signaled nothing good. Jina glared at the door. She knew who it was, because no way could she end this day without another confrontation. Boom had to have told him hours ago, but her phone had stayed silent and she’d begun to hope that he either wouldn’t contact her or he’d put it off until tomorrow, or even that the team, depleted as it was, would be tasked with something easy like a pattern of life mission and they’d already left the country. She wanted time before she had to deal with Levi, time to settle into her new job, time to get squared away withherself.

No such luck, though. Just for form she checked the peephole, and as seemed to be the norm in their interactions she considered not opening the door. She was in her pajamas; she could stuff cotton in her ears and go on to bed, leave him out there leaning against the door frame. But he’d want to know why she’d quit his team and the showdown had to happen sooner or later, so it might as well be now.

She jerked open the door and barked, “What?” at him. He wasn’t her team leader now; she didn’t have to do what he said. She wasn’t just prepared to fight with him, shewanteda fight, wanted some outlet for her resentment and emotional turmoil.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the glitter in his eyes, or the duffel bag at his feet.

Taken aback, she looked down at the bag. “Another mission so soon?” She’d hoped, but she was still surprised.