Ari stills in my arms, like she somehow understands I’ve never spoken these words to anyone. She holds her breath, waiting for me to continue.
“As the Commanding Officer of my unit, it was my job to make sure the mission went off without a hitch. I thought I planned for everything. Ididplan for everything. Everything except the cruelty of war.”
Ari nuzzles her nose into the side of my neck, then traces her fingertips up and down the back of my neck where she’s holding onto me. Is this woman comforting me?
“What happened next?” she asks, her voice soft, like she’s talking to a timid animal.
“We moved in on the target—a building where we believed the enemy was storing weapons. It was seamless. One of those rare missions when everyone was in total sync, a true machine with all the parts working together in tandem. All of our intelligence and surveillance told us the town had been evacuated weeks ago, and from what we had seen so far, that was true. We didn’t know.Ididn’t know.”
I pause, swallowing thickly as I try not to get weighed down with the gritty details. Ari continues to gently stroke the back of my neck while her nose brushes my ear.
“I believe you,” she murmurs.
I didn’t know that’s what I needed to hear, but damn if I don’t nod, thanking her for acknowledging the most important part.I didn’t know.
“I didn’t know,” I repeat out loud this time. “We had nearly cleared the entire building when one of my men discovered a basement. There were dozens of civilians down there, hiding, waiting out the raid, afraid for their lives. The new mission immediately became to get everyone to safety as quickly as possible.” I stop to take a breath, feeling light-headed and empty but needing to finish my story. “Nearly forty people made it outalive before the enemy launched an aerial attack on the building. It was a setup. Using their own goddamn citizens, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t catch it in time.”
“You saved forty people,” Aria whispers.
“And lost five. I nearly killed my best friend. His leg is still fucked up, and I haven’t talked to him in months.”
“But–”
“We’re here,” I announce as I carry Ari up the porch steps and into my cabin. I’ve never been happier to have an excuse to change the subject. The very last thing I need is Ari feeling sorry for me, or worse, thinking I’m a monster for the lives I lost.
I head to the bathroom but quickly realize I won’t have enough room to work. Changing course, I march to the king-sized bed in the corner of my one-room cabin and set her down in front of it. Then, the most surprising thing happens.
She hugs me.
I’m tense and awkward, unsure what to do with my arms. Ari simply squeezes me tighter, burying her face into my chest. She’s so short, her head doesn’t even reach my chin. Something about that breaks the spell, and I fold my arms around this unexpected woman and her overwhelming sweetness. I tuck her head under my chin, and yep, we fit perfectly. Just like I thought.
Ari doesn’t say anything. She doesn't need to. This is enough.
I’m not sure how long this angel of redemption has been holding me, but when she shifts her weight and lets out a restrained whimper, I remember the whole reason she’s here in the first place. She hurt her ankle.
Jesus, I’m losing it.
“I’ll get my first aid kit,” I tell Ari, my voice gruff. I guide her to sit on the edge of the bed, and race to the bathroom to grab my med kit.
By the time I get back, Ari has her shoes and socks off, and sure enough, her left ankle is bruised and swollen. Kneeling infront of her, I take her calf and gently lift it so she can rest her foot on my knee so I can stabilize the injury with a fabric wrap.
I still can’t seem to look her in the eye. She knows more about me on a personal level than I’ve shared with anyone. The only thing I know about her is that she lied about having a big, loving family. The scales are off-balance. Too bad I was never a good conversationalist, even before the incident that sent me running up this mountain.
“I have Aspirin for the pain and swelling,” I tell her, clearing my throat as I gently set her foot down and stand. Before she can say anything, I race off to the kitchen to grab water and pain meds.
“Thanks,” Ari says with a smile, craning her neck to try and look me in the eye. “Are you okay? I know you’re probably not thrilled to be sharing your space, and I promise I’ll be out of your hair once–”
“Stay,” I choke out. Ari startles a bit, and I shake my head at my stupid booming voice. “Sorry. I meant you’re not bothering me. Please stay the night. You take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
“What? No, you can’t sleep on the floor,” she protests, even though she’s already pulling back the blankets on my down-feather mattress. Ari snuggles up, minding her sore ankle. I bite back a smile at how adorable she is.
There’s that word again. Adorable.
“I’ve slept on worse surfaces,” I tell her, grabbing an extra pillow to prop up Ari’s foot a little more before tucking a blanket around it. “Besides, it’s a good floor,” I assure my houseguest. “I made it myself.”
“Really?”
The awe in her voice has me looking at her despite my earlier intention to avoid eye contact. Those green irises sparkle with wonder as she takes in my cabin as if seeing everything in a whole new light.
