Page 12 of Oathbreaker

“Do you have things in the bathroom?”

“Just a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant.”

“Let me grab those.”

She bustles around doing everything except looking at me, and I desperately want to ask what she’s thinking. Feeling. She’s upset with me, and I can’t blame her. But how will we get past this if we don’t talk?

“Briar, I want to tell you?—”

“Not now.” She shakes her head, still not looking at me. “Please. Let me get you settled at the house and then see if we need to call in a doctor. Or take you to the E.R.”

“I’ll be okay,” I say. “I pulled something when I was in Nashville and?—”

“You were in Nashville?” She frowns.

“I thought maybe I’d talk to Atlas first.” This time I’m the one who looks away. “I chickened out. And also, I didn’t realize it was a big, public funeral. I didn’t want to do anything to interrupt that. It’s a good thing, too, because I did rip out my stitches getting there, so I was back in the E.R. for a few days before I could fly to L.A.”

A million emotions cross her face in that moment but then she just picks up my bag.

“Let me put these in the car. I’ll be right back.”

I hate feeling helpless. Nervous. Unsure of myself.

This isn’t what I want but I keep reminding myself that it’s been five long years since Briar saw me. She thought I was dead. That’s the part that really guts me. What we shared right before I left goes a lot deeper than her virginity. That was the beautiful, meaningful cherry—no pun intended—on top of the sundae that represented the future we talked about.

I had to get through training. That much I told her. Then I would talk to Dash.

Well, I didn’t tell her that.

We spent two days loving and dreaming and planning.

She’d work for a year while I figured out the next phase of my career. Then I’d come home and ask her to marry me.

I stupidly didn’t tell her that either.

Instead, I wrote letters.

Letters she never got.

Mother. Fucker.

I get pissed off all over again when I think about the sheer arrogance of my superiors—making life-changing decisions without telling me.

It’s easier, they told me during my debriefing. To let go of everything in your past. And so that there’s no one they can use to manipulate you. No one they can torture you to get information about.

What they didn’t understand is that I would have—and almost did—die before I told them about Briar or the boys. There was nothing they could do to me to get me to give up the only family I have.

The family—and woman—I may have lost now thanks to those damn decisions.

Some were my own, but the rest was all them.

And something scarier than the worst torture I endured?

Not knowing if I can fix this.

Five

Briar