Page 11 of Erik's Salvation
He closed his eyes and let the water hit his shoulders, those memories of his past biting at him again. Tormenting him.
Erik couldn’t breathe. Twelve hours had passed since the fucking devastation that was his mission. Four of his seven teammates were dead. Dead! All because of one fucking new recruit who hadn’t listened.
He wanted to hit something, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
He swallowed, trying to calm his breathing as he made his way to the military aircraft. He had to calm the hell down before he got home. Vicky couldn’t see him like this, not in her current condition. He had to be okay for her.
At the thought of Vicky, he pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on for the first time since arriving in Syria. He was about to step onto the plane—but he stopped at the sight of so many missed calls. Text messages asking him to get in contact. Some from family. Some from numbers he didn’t know.
He stepped away to click on the number that had called the most—his mother’s.
His chest tightened, fear catapulting his heart into a faster rhythm. Was it his father? Someone else in the family? Had something happened?
His mother answered on the second ring. “Erik…”
The second he heard her voice, that fear twisted into something worse. Something uglier. Her voice wasn’t itself. It was pained. Heavy. “What is it, Mom?”
There was a pause, and in that time, the dread spiraled throughout his chest, weaving and poisoning, burning like acid. “Tell me.”
“Honey…it’s Vicky.”
Erik turned off the water and stepped out of the stall, every muscle in his body suddenly unbearably tight.
When his phone vibrated on the counter, he picked it up to see his sister’s name.
Andi: See you in twenty minutes. If you’re not at the coffee shop, I will hunt your ass down and find you. And I won’t be held responsible for my actions.
He dropped the phone and went into the bedroom to throw on clothes. He’d already canceled on her twice in the last week. He wasn’t getting out of this one.
He threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, then shoved his phone into his pocket.
The phone rang again when he was behind the wheel of his Corvette, pulling out of the garage. He thought it would be Andi, already asking where the hell he was. It was Chandler.
He used the car’s Bluetooth to answer. “What do you want? I’m off work for two months.”
“Well, hello to you too, sunshine.”
“Chandler.”
“They’re pushing for you to come back early.”
“No.” The word was out before Chandler had finished speaking. “I’m on break.”
He turned left when he reached the road, letting his fingers glide over the smooth leather steering wheel.
“That’s what I told them. Meanwhile, Marco’s having all the fun.”
Marco was another contractor. Erik wouldn’t go so far as to call the guy a friend, but he was as close as it got in the industry. “Let him.”
Chandler sighed. “Fine. But if you change your mind, you know where to—”
“I won’t. But thanks.”
Chandler laughed. “Okay. Everything else going all right?”
“Yeah, slowly getting there. Some of the house has been kept in great condition, other parts, not so much.” Like the damn deck. He’d been working on it bit by bit this week and was still nowhere near finished.
“You know, you could always hire someone. You have the money.”
