Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
After quickly making some sandwiches, we go out onto the back porch.
“I understand,” I say. “You have to do what you have to do sometimes.” He doesn’t have to ask what I’m talking about. The Mafia. The fight.
“I made a promise.”
He speaks quickly and softly, questioning whether I heard him right.
“I’m sorry?”
He looks at me with his eyes dark. “Nobody’ll understand, but the things I’ve done … I made a promise.”
“What promise?”
He shudders, fists clenching. Loki yawns and whines as he looks up at him.
“You can tell me,” I murmur, unsure why it feels so authentic. Maybe it was all that stuff with Mom, revealing what happened with Dad. I feel like I can trust him, and now I want him to trust me.
“I’m just another Marine with just another story,” he grunts, suddenly seeming angry.
Leaning over to him, I touch his hand again. “No, you’re not. Whatever happened, it happened to you, and you have to live with it.”
“There are some things you don’t live with,” he laughs ruefully. I know it’s not my job to drag it out of him, but I can tell he wants to talk. He needs to get whatever is holding him back off his chest. Loki confirms it when he becomes puppy-like and starts whining at a higher pitch. He can sense Tristan’s mood. Animals always can.
“It’s just—”
“It’s not just anything,” I say, hearing a hint of the old Mom in my voice. That’s sad to think, but I’ll probably never hear that tone from her again, even with the new drugs.
He sighs, staring into space. “I can make a report, ma’am.”
I almost make a joke, but then I see he’s serious. It’s his way of dealing with it. Even so, he reaches down and starts absentmindedly stroking Loki under the chin. Loki grins, his body wagging, as the muscles in Tristan’s forearm twitch.
“We were in Afghanistan in 2020, somewhere in Helmand province. Routine patrol, they said. Routine doesn’t mean jackshit out there. The ambush came fast. We were in the ravine, and suddenly, we were caught in a kill zone. Bullets started flying, kicking up dirt and rock. It was so damn hot, I swear, you could smell the sweat, theirs and ours, and the gunpowder—.” He cuts off like he’s pissed at himself for giving so much detail, then his tone goes blunt.
“Wilson went first, a bullet right between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground. O’Connor tried to drag him back, but a burst of fire cut him down. The whole squad was dropping like flies, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. One minute, we were joking about O’Connor’s latest botched football wager. In the next minute, the squad was gone. Odin, my Belgian Malinois, I told you about him, remember?”
“I remember,” I whisper, transfixed, not wanting him to stop, not wanting the spell to break.
“He went straight into the fight. He was fearless, always had been. I saw him charging and heard his growl over the chaos. Then came the yelp, that god-awful yelp. I crawled over to him, bullets still flying, dirt in my mouth, and hands shaking. He was hit bad, blood pouring from his side.”
Tristan looks down at Loki, deep into the dog’s eyes, as though he can’t imagine the same happening to him. Tristan’s eyes are shimmering, but it’s like he’d never let himself cry.
“I held him, tried to stop the bleeding with my hands, my shirt, anything. His eyes were on me, those trusting eyes. I whispered to him, telling him he was a good boy, the best damn dog I’d ever known. He was slipping away, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I felt helpless. He died there, in my arms, in the middle of that hell.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the words feeling useless.
“Reinforcements arrived,” he goes on, shaking his head as if to say, too late. “We pushed the bastards back, but it didn’t matter. So damn many were gone. After the firefight, it was like the world had been muted, but inside, I was screaming. Then guess what?”
He laughs dryly like the whole world’s a joke.
“As I tried to move, a sharp pain tore through my side. I had taken a hit; it must have been the adrenaline keeping me from feeling it until then. I slumped against a rock, blood soaking through my uniform. I made a promise to Odin, right there, right then, that I’d make something good come from all this shit. I promised him I’d open a dog sanctuary where dogs like him could live, train, and be loved. It was the least I could do for him, for all of them.”
Now, he turns his glassy eyes to me. Shivers dance through me, but they’re not the steamy kind. Or maybe they are, but not completely. There’s more going on here. I want to say something to help, but what? I’m grateful when he goes on.