Page 10 of Wrong Number, Right Soldier
“So hedidn’tghost you?” Cleo asks over glasses of wine at Stasia’s place.
“He just went no-contact for like, two weeks,” Stasia clarifies for me.
“But he didn’t have a choice,” I explain to them.
“What’d they have to do?” Kim asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Where’d they go?” Cleo asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Babe,” Stasia says, topping off our glasses before she sidles in next to me on the sofa, “how are you gonnado this?”
“I don’t know.” I heave a sigh. Which seems to be everyone’s cue to take a long, looong sip of wine. I reach for my phone to show them some of the things that I found, in my desperate attempt to…I don’t even know, scare myself away?
“I worry about him a lot more now. How doesanyoneeven do this?”
“He’s in Kuwait though, they don’t see combat,” Kim assures me.
“But look. There was a shooting at an infantry base. InGeorgia—not thecountryGeorgia, thestate. Trey is infantry,” I expound to them, the constant concern and dread ever consuming me.
“Honey, unfortunately, this is the U.S. There are shootings here.”
“Yeah…God.” I bite down on my cheek.
“Great party, Stas,” Cleo deadpans, nose wincing. She pounds more of the wine.
“Soldiers died during a live-fire night-training exercise in Kuwait. It wasn’t Trey’s unit,” I carry on ranting. Lord knows why. “And did you hear about the Black Hawk—”
“Okay, you’renotallowed to look at the news.” Stasia rips my phone from my hand.
Kim pins me with a parental look. “Turn offyour social media.”
Then Cleo asks, all too shrewdly, as if my love life is being played out in some lab and she’s been just watching, taking notes: “Are youtryingto find reasons to not fall any deeper in love with him?”
Thatpunches me into silence. My throat closes around tears that suddenly decide to take up residence there. I nod. “Yeah.”
“Then babes, it’s already too late.”
A long, awkward, still silence comes over us like a weighted blanket. And then out of nowhere, Kim grabs her wineglass, drains it, and pops to her feet.
“Let’s go out.”
“Right now?” Cleo asks, warily.
Stasia bolts up from the sofa. “I’m in!”
Cleo’s head tilts left then right, left again, as if seeing if the idea has balance. Then she stands up. “Okay yeah, let’s do it.” She looks at me. “It’d be good for you, Say.”
Kim reaches her hand over the coffee table, waiting for me to place mine into it. “Youneedto get out. You already passed your big test. Clear your head. C’mon.”
Andthat’show we ended up back at the club where it all first started.
If I thought the déjà vu was strong when we first walked in, it’s overwhelming now, as I spot the guy who first handed me the business card with the phone number on it that had a nine that looked like a four that led me to Trey.
And here he comes.
