Page 15 of Dirty Beasts: Chance

I sit beside her, and we eat in silence. I finish by the time she’s on her fourth bite, earning me an amused smirk from her. I set my plate on the coffee table and lean back, feet up.

“I have nightmares,” I say, apropos of nothing. “About combat.”

She pauses, looks at me. “You do?”

“Yeah. Not all the time, but yeah.”

“Why tell me?”

“Something to share.” I shrug. “Most of the time, it’s the same thing—my boy Julius getting shot in the throat. After Rev, I was closest to Julius. He was with us from Basic through Recon training, same squad, everything. Took a round to the throat. I held his shit together until the medic showed. He survived, but the trauma to his larynx was…fuck, it was awful. He can still barely manage a whisper. I dream of that moment, him beside me, the bullet hitting him, blood everywhere, coming out through my fingers while he chokes.”

She sets her plate and fork down on her thighs. “Jesus, Chance.” She looks at me. “Talk about heavy.”

“Sorry.”

At that moment, Silas, Saxon, and Solomon exit the gym, each of them dripping sweat, panting. They head to their individual rooms without a word to each other or us, without so much as glancing this way. I watch her watch them, then look at me.

“Strong silent types, huh?” she says, cracking a grin.

I laugh. “You could say that, yeah.”

She finishes her food, sets her plate on mine and kicks back with me, bad leg resting over her good. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Yup.”

Silence.

“I can’t stay down here forever.” She says this quietly.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Just can’t. I’ll go nuts. I have a job. And no matter how long I stay, Alvin will still be out there, and I guarantee you he won’t forget.”

“I’m not saying stay down here forever.”

“What are you saying, then?”

I shrug. “I dunno. Just stay, for now. We’ll figure out the rest.”

“We will, huh?” She looks at me. “You gonna pay my debt for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Bullshit.” She snaps this. “Bullshit. I owe twenty-five grand. You got that much?”

I lift an eyebrow at her. “Good lord, woman.”

“Oh fuck off.” She hangs her head, shaking it, and then lifts it and looks at me. “Wasn’t just meth. Painkillers, too. You wanna be technical about it, it was painkillers first, and then when I tried to quit those, I ended up on meth.”

“Frying pan into the fucking volcano, Jesus.” I wipe my face. “You don’t do things in half measures, do you?”

She snorts a laugh. “No, I do not.”

“Tell me something you’re proud of.”

“What are you, my fucking therapist?” she snaps, but it’s with a suppressed half grin.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” I shoot back. “There’s a surprising amount of downtime in the military, and they provide a shitload of online options for continuing education. I have a degree in psychology.” I lean toward her, stage whispering. “Don’t tell anyone.”