Page 64 of No Turning Back
They both shift in their seats like they don’t wanna tell me.
I guess I’m not worthy of the story.
“Well,” Parker starts, “we kinda always had feelings, but-”
Martinez cuts in, voice low. “I got hurt on an op. Parker here… well, it brought out his… emotions. We waited till the tour ended, and… that’s all she wrote.”
I smile at their story, but my eyes lock on one detail. “What happened to you?”
Before he can answer, I tilt my head, voice sugar-sweet. “Someone shoot you?”
“Quinn,” Parker says sharply, a warning.
“What?” I say, wide-eyed, mock innocent. “Just playing around.”
“Why don’t we-” Sam starts, but I hold up a hand.
“What, I can’t even talk now? You can share all your holiday stories, but I can’t ask one damn question?”
Parker’s jaw tightens. He snaps, “Okay, enough. You’ve been nothing but rude since we got here. What’s your problem? We tried to be there for you. You ignored us. Our calls, our texts. And then-” He throws his fork down. “Then you send us your wedding invitation like we were acquaintances instead of family.”
My blood spikes. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I snap back. “What was I supposed to do? Send you a save-the-date right after you gavemy spotto him?” I jab my finger across the table, straight at Martinez.
The air in the room turns to glass.
“I’ll tell you what my problem is,” I say, my voice rising. “Familydoesn’t replace you with the man who ruined your life.”
“Quinn-” Sam starts, but I’m already on my feet, napkin tossed onto the table like a white flag I’ll never wave.
“Have a nice life,” I snap, and storm out before anyone can stop me.
But I don’t head upstairs. I shove open the back door and let the night air hit me.
Blue stirs from her spot on the porch, big eyes following me. She stands, stretches, and pads after me without hesitation.
The screen door slams shut behind us, cutting off the muffled voices inside.
It’s just me and Blue, under the heavy Texas night sky.
Chapter Twenty-One
Quinn
I didn’t think this through.
The wind picks up, biting through my shirt, and pride keeps me from heading back inside. The bunkhouse crosses my mind, but of course I don’t have the damn key.
Great.
So I sit by the creek instead, Blue pressed against my leg, her steady weight keeping me anchored. My fingers run through her fur as tears sting my eyes. I won’t let them fall.
Back then, when I said I was in a bad headspace after my discharge, I meant it. At first, I avoided the team because I didn’t know how to talk to them. So I focused on getting better. Healing. Imagining the day I’d rejoin.
And then came the blow.
The company commander looked me dead in the eye and said he couldn’t give me clearance to head back because my spot was already filled.
By Martinez.
