Page 2 of Written in the Charts

I scurried to my feet, tears in my eyes as I raced after him, hoping to stop the bleeding before it was too late. “Evan, you don’t understand. Please, just listen to me.” I pulled his elbow, hoping to make him stop, but he jerked away from me, collecting his boxers and jeans from the ground. He jammed his feet into the legs and pulled them up, closing himself into them.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” His eyes darted around the room, I assumed searching for his shirt, which was still lying in my living room. They spied his shoes, left by my bedside.

“Evan, please just give me a chance to explain myself.” I cradled my stomach, acutely aware that I had no shirt and feeling awkward at being half-naked during an argument. “I just—”

“Lied to me again,” he said, plopping onto the edge of my bed. He shoved his feet into his shoes without even untying the laces first. His left shoe wouldn’t go on, so he stood and stomped his foot a few times until his foot sank into it. He glared at me as he coldly brushed past me, heading back out.

“Evan, please.” I cried harder, tears blinding me as I followed him down the hall. I didn’t even bother with my shirt. If I took time to find it and put it on, he’d be out the door and gone.

I needed him to listen. I’d never intended to hurt him. My fears got in the way. It was my fault.

“No, Gypsy. I’ve listened enough. I’ve heard enough of your lies. That’s all it’s been this whole time, hasn’t it?” He bent and picked up his shirt, cramming his arms into the sleeves first then shrugging it on over his head. I whimpered, feeling out of control at the moment.

“You can’t leave. You have to let me explain.” I reached for his hand, hoping the physical contact would calm him, let him know I never meant to hurt him, but he pushed my hand away.

He picked up his coat, discarded across the back of the couch as we came in with a flurry of activity. “I don’t have to do anything. And I’m done. I should never have come back. You know that? I was better off out there getting my heart stomped on by other bitches. I can’t believe you lied to me again.”

“Evan!” I startled myself as I screamed his name. He had his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. “Listen to me. I was going to tell you tonight, after our night was over. I wanted to tell you sooner.”

His eyes narrowed. “How far along are you?” The way he asked felt more like he was cutting my heart to pieces than accepting my apology.

I looked down, ashamed. “Eight weeks.”

“Eight weeks.” Suddenly, his voice was low, even, and steady, but not calm. “You’ve known for Eight weeks, and you said nothing. Let me give you the benefit of the doubt and say you learned when your period was late. That means you’ve known at least four weeks. Let’s say it’s late often, so you didn’t think of it for a few more weeks after it was late. You’ve known for weeks. For fuck’s sake, Gypsy. You’ve known long enough to have gone to a doctor, gotten pills prescribed, and had your first checkup. You know the due date, and maybe even the gender by now.”

I shook my head firmly, squeezing the tears back as I blinked hard. I couldn’t control the sobs now. My whole body shook. “No, that’s not true.”

“Maybe not, but what is true is that I’m done. There’s not a single woman on this planet who can be trusted.” He glared at me coldly. “Goodbye, Gypsy.”

Cold air from the hall outside my apartment whooshed in as he opened the door and left, slamming it behind himself. I collapsed into a puddle of snot and tears near the end of my couch.

Evan couldn’t leave me. I couldn’t lose him again.

What had I done?

CHAPTERONE

Evan

Six months earlier...

As soon asmy feet hit the ground and I heard my knee crunch, I knew I was in for a load of pain. I put weight on it but wished I hadn’t, my knees buckling. I did a firm ass-plant on the hard-packed dirt beneath the suspension training bars, and it roused a round of chuckles from the team. My knee hadn’t been right since jump school, which was one of the reasons I was grounded—not the only reason or the biggest reason, but a reason all the same.

I scowled, staring up at Private First Class Gordon Yates as he offered me a hand, and I took it. Even with the added support, the knee still smarted more than it should have. I weighed all of 160 pounds soaking wet. I shouldn’t have had that much trouble with a drop from less than one meter.

“You alright, Sergeant?” He patted me on the shoulder as I got my balance, favoring my sore knee.

“Fine, thanks. Jumper’s knee flaring up, that’s all.” Most of the men knew I had a bad case of patellar tendonitis and rarely demonstrated things like I just had, but this group was exceptionally dense.

“You ought to go see Captain Jones.” Gordon’s comment stung. I didn’t need a doctor. I was fine. And I hated when greenhorns came in and assumed they knew more than me.

“Run a mile,” I ordered, “all of you.” I winced as I lowered my foot fully and stood with my weight equally balanced.

They responded with a resounding, “Yes, sir,” and took off as a group, forming six rows of five men each as they went. I listened to the sound of their boot strikes growing fainter as they headed out across the lawn, then turned and limped my way to the barracks for a cup of water.

Having been diagnosed with PT wasn’t a death sentence in the military, but given my preexisting weakened knee from high-school athletics, it meant even the slightest thing would cause it to flare up. I’d been tossed from several command units due to the issue, but after the shit that happened with Misty, I was permanently grounded. And rather than blame it on the court martial like they should have, they told me it was because of my knee.

I sat on a bench outside the barracks, drawing a cup of water from the thermos prepared for today’s exercises. The entire area was full of activity, new recruits coming in daily now. May was always a time for boot camp to start, and summer would balloon out to over 500 new recruits on the grounds before ship off happened in late summer or early fall, depending on start dates. I’d be busy, but I enjoyed my job.

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