Page 63 of Unmade

Coward.

Beckett cocked his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s gotta be something else. There are so many operators here who can vouch for the Quinns. They’re good people. They’d welcome you with open arms—and you still hesitate?”

I averted my gaze once more, and I had to swallow twice. The pressure on my chest started returning, and I felt cornered. It was one thing to be honest. A whole other to expose my weaknesses for assessment by my superior. That might be the one thing I’d rather do with Doc if I had to choose someone.

Although, my answer wasn’t about Beckett—for the most part. I could tell him a little bit.

“For the past six years, I’ve known fuck-all about my future,” I said quietly. “I guess it’s made me cling to what little history I have. Memories, stories…and I don’t want them to change. My mom literally made up stories about my dad, and even though they’re… I don’t know—they were a comfort. And meeting the Quinns would change everything.”

He hummed. “What if it changed for the better?”

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I knew it was beyond ridiculous, but I just couldn’t risk losing what little I had.

“Let me ask you this,” he continued. “Say you go out on a date. He’s nice, you get along, you have a lot in common—whatever. Would you call him again and suggest a second date, or would you back off and be happy for that one date?”

Like I said, I knew I was ridiculous.

“I’m like that with everything,” I admitted. “Even before Mom died. Like, when I learned how to swim, I kinda stopped once I could do it—until I joined the Army. When Mom wondered why I no longer wanted to go to the pool, I said I didn’t want anything to happen. The best pizza I ever had—I never went back to the place, just because I didn’t want it to be a fluke.”

He frowned and absently cracked his knuckles. “First of all, that’s fucked up. Second, you’re not like that here. You’re advancing at Hillcroft every day.”

Not the same thing. “It’s about attachment. I’m not exactly loving the training here. It’s a fuckload to learn, and every workout comes with a new bruise. But, like…the people? The friends I’m making, hanging out with Alex, all the common areas—there’s life around, someone’s always up. It doesn’t have to be big. The pizza, for instance. It was just a good memory. I went there with Mom and Aunt Laura one time.”

“Ah.” He nodded slowly and lowered his stare to the table. He had to be exhausted by now, always trying to figure me out.

I needed to do that too, ’cause fuck me if I didn’t wanna take things further again, and it was all his fault. Why did I wanna tell him stuff? Why did I wanna say shit that made me feel vulnerable and mortified? Was I some kind of masochist?

“You’re another example,” I said, hating myself.Shut up, shut up, shut up!“I regret not backing off sooner, because then you’d just be the mentor who was really nice and helpful.” Oh my God, these words were actually tumbling out of my fucking mouth. What was wrong with me? Beckett furrowed his brows and stared at me, and I was about to run my mouth once again. “You took a step back once I started watching Alex,” I elaborated. “It kinda sucked, even though I know why you did it. You gotta set boundaries and shit. But…you know. I liked having breakfast and lunch with you.”

Yup, I definitely hated myself. I had to look away, and my ears felt hot. Fuck him for making me word vomit like that.

“And now I’m the mentor who backed off,” he murmured.

Shoot me.

This was my hell.

“Like I said, I knew why you did it,” I answered. “You can’t be friends with a recruit.”

It wasn’t his fault I took it so personally. That was my problem. My attachment.

He sighed heavily and leaned back against the cushions, and he draped his arms along the back of the sofa.

“Boundaries are important,” he confirmed. “Maybe I should have communicated that better, though. I didn’t take a step back because I didn’t enjoy hanging out with you. Once Alex came here, I felt the lines were becoming blurry, and it’s fundamental for Coach and me to assess the recruits from a wider perspective. If we stand too close, we’ll miss a lot.”

I bobbed my head and picked at a thread in the corner of my pants side pocket. That one was gonna bother me, so I pulled out my folding knife and cut it off.

“I hear you,” I said eventually.

“But those boundaries won’t always have to be there,” he said next. “Once you pass final selection, I’ll be the first to shake your hand and buy you a beer. You’re already weirdly easy to talk to, so I have no doubt we’ll be good friends.”

He thought I was easy to talk to as well? Interesting. But yeah, being friends with Beckett would be nice. I just had to get over my crush first, ’cause it was getting out of hand when the dominant feeling was disappointment.

Crushing on the straight superior, how fucking pathetic.

I needed to change the topic. “Is it true that final selection takes place in South America?”

His mouth twitched. “Did Tanner tell you that?”

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