Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
But seeing him still just standing there, staring up so disappointed at me while the sandy wind whips his hair all crazy, makes me feel like shit. So I call down, “Maybe I’ll catch you later, huh?”
And just like that, his face brightens back up, which makes me feel like even more of a piece of shit.
Art just shakes his head beside me. “Man, you gotta stop giving him hope like that, or he’s gonna be stuck to you for the rest of the tour.”
I shrug. “It’s not that long. Maybe if we can just get him to shut up, he can hang around in the background.”
“No one can ever get Elmer’s to shut up,” Banjo says from behind me.
“Maybe if we glued his mouth shut,” says Art, always ready with the comeback.
Everyone laughs at that.
I shake my head at them and lean back against the side of the Humvee, letting my eyes fall shut. My eyes are so goddamn gritty, and I swear it always smells like BO, motor oil, and smoke on these transports. I can’t imagine ever getting this goddamn smell out of my nose.
I try to picture Angelique Boyer. Art brought her up on the computer the last time we got internet privileges. Some guys have folks back home they want screen time with. Not Art and me. I roll Angelique’s name around on my tongue. She was smokin’ hot. I bet she smells nice. Nothing like this truck full of stinking grunts.
I’m still trying to envision Angelique when the fucking blast hits—
No one even screams until it’s too late.
—And then it’s just my voice screaming in the dark.
And someone yelling my name.
“Isaak. Isaak, wake up! Isaak!”
My eyes pop open as I shoot up in bed. I look around but can’t see a thing in the total darkness.
“What?” I shout, my arms flailing outwards. “What is it? Where?”
I suck in a breath of air, expecting diesel-choked smoke.
Instead, the air is fresh and smells feminine. Something sweet, maybe floral. A woman’s shampoo.
“Isaak?” comes a quiet voice. From the other side of the bed. As in, from the floor.
I blink hard, all my wits suddenly flooding back in.
“Kira!” I scramble over to the other side of the bed, my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness to recognize and remember I’m in Domhnall’s guest bedroom.
Of course I am. Where the fuck else would I be?
And there, laid out on the floor, is Kira. She’s on her back, lit by a tiny shaft of moonlight coming through the bottom of the blackout curtains.
“Fuck. Are you okay?” I ask, reaching down for her hand.
She takes it and pulls herself up to a sitting position, then climbs back on the bed. “I’m fine.” She pulls out her mussed ponytail and redoes it.
“How’d you end up down there?”
“I just fell off the bed. You were getting a little… intense in your dream, then you suddenly woke up.”
My guts fall out my ass. “Did I push you off the bed?”
I stumble off the opposite side of the bed from her, then drag my hands down my face. “Fuck!”
“You didn’t push me! I was just surprised and sort of toppled off!”
“I never should’ve slept in the same bed as you. Fucking selfish and stupid.” I snatch my pillow off the bed and stomp over to the couch by the window.
“Isaak,” Kira cries, getting up on her knees on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“What I shoulda been doin’ the whole time.” I punch the pillow and lie down on the couch. “It was fucking stupid to risk you like that.”
“Get back in this bed,” she demands.
“Nothing’s getting me back in that bed, Princess. Especially you.”
“I’m not a fucking princess. I told you I fell off the bed. You didn’t knock me off.”
“Good. Then try to stay on this time.” I punch my pillow again and turn on my side, back to her. The couch isn’t long enough for my entire body, so on my side is the only way to fit. I curl my legs up and breathe out.
Not that I especially want to go back to sleep any fucking time soon.
“Isaak—”
“I said I’m fine,” I snap. “Now leave it alone and go back to sleep.”
“Fine!”
I glance back just long enough to see her yank the covers back over herself while muttering something like ugh, men! to herself.
Then I curl into myself again on the couch and squeeze my eyes shut.
I always said the sandbox could kiss my ass forever the day I left it behind. I had no fucking clue it would just keep haunting me long after I climbed on the C-17 that flew me out of that goddamned place.
Soon enough, Kira’s gentle snores quietly fill the room again. It relaxes me. Some.
But mostly, I just lie there, paralyzed in a cold sweat, alone with my ghosts.