Page 121 of Oathbreaker

Making excuses to Frankie and pretending to be sick so I can work from home, thus avoiding Atlas and his far too keen sense of knowing when something’s wrong. Putting off a planned shopping expedition with Willow and Aspen for baby clothes for Jade.

Because I can barely keep it together knowing that history is repeating itself, but I know I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell doing it while surrounded by adorable baby clothes.

I sigh and roll to my side, closing my eyes and trying to tamp down on the misery.

Instead, it just grows because I think about the lie I told to explain his absence—Colt needing to go to D.C. for a debrief.

I don’t like lying to my family and I already kept too much from them over the years about Colt and Frankie and me, but we might not find a way forward together after this and I won’t do anything to harm his relationships.

I sigh again, flop over to my other side.

Lies. Broken promises. Heartbreak. And…worry.

I’ve been worrying myself into that sick.

Worrying he’ll get hurt.

Worrying he won’t make it back alive.

Worrying his friend will die and him leaving will be for naught.

Worrying what I’ll tell the guys and Frankie if he doesn’t come back.

“Enough,” I hiss, rolling to my back and staring up at the dark ceiling. Sleep isn’t going to come. I should just grab my laptop, get up, and do something productive instead of continuing to chastise myself.

I push up, flick on the light, and don’t reach for my laptop.

Productive isn’t going to happen.

Instead, I open the drawer and reach for the TV remote.

Only, instead of my fingers closing around the remote, they bump into a bundle of papers.

No.

A bundle of letters.

Colt’s letters.

So many of them, he wrote to me.

And I haven’t been able to bring myself to open them, to read them.

Because he left.

Because it hurts too much.

Because I need to slam the steel door on those thoughts in my mind—if I don’t, I won’t be able to function?—

Like I’ve been functioning so well?

Existing like a half zombie.

Hiding from my family.

So here in the quiet darkness of night, I rip off the Band-Aid.

I pull out the bundle.