Chapter Four

Katy

“Scottie,” Jones calls after me as I’m exiting the clinic after a backbreaking day.

“It’s Scott,” I correct with a smile.

He nods. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Exhausted. How was patrol?”

“Same shit, different day,” he says as we pass the mess hall.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m working really hard to dodge the snaps this time.”

“More boring the better then, huh?”

“You said it,” he says. I can tell he’s trying to rally. We’re both having a hard time being away from home, and I’m sure it’s the reason he’s approached me.

“So, what’s up?”

“Came to invite you to a poker game.” His eyes light with mischief. “Mullins is already in on it, and I thought I’d come by to see if you wanted to join us.”

My bones are aching at this point, but after the day I’ve had, I’m anything but ready to go to sleep.

“Sounds fun, actually.”

“Briggs has managed to swipe some hooch from one of the Rangers.”

“Briggs is there?”

“Yeah,” he says with a frown. “That a problem?” He reads my indecisive expression. “Trust me, I’ve known the guy forever. He’s harmless. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

“He’s just so…” I can’t think of the words to describe the animosity I feel toward him.

“Blunt?” Jones chimes in. “Yeah, he’s not really about the bullshit, but if you give him a chance, I promise you there’s more to him than his rampant mouth. Besides, there’s booze, and you look like you could use a drink.”

“Yeah, I could.”

“Come on,” he says as he leads me through base to the Ranger tent. As soon as we step inside, I hear my name.

“Scottie!” Briggs greets. My eyes follow his voice to find him at the table with a handful of fanned cards, and a playful light in his eyes. “Come on over. I’m sure these two need a good nurse by now.”

“I’m a damned good nurse,” Mullins scorns as she throws back a shot out of a Listerine bottle cap. “And you’re cheating.”

“You sit on a throne of lies,” Briggs replies, laying his cards down as the rest of the table groans at the sight of his winning hand. “You ladies never had a chance.”

“There’s only one lady at the table, asshole.” Morrero slaps his hand on the table to protect his stash of Now and Laters as I pull up a chair.

“That remains to be seen,” Briggs replies, snatching the earned candy out of Morrero’s reach.

Briggs tosses a few bags of Skittles and other candy my way. “I’ll pay your ante until you can get me back.”

“Thanks,” I say as Mullins puts a hand on my shoulder. “You good?”

Briggs watches me carefully for the answer, and suddenly all eyes are on me. I realize then that I need to be more present. My pity party has gone on long enough. I’m not going to help anyone with the way I’ve been behaving.

“Can I have a shot of that?” I ask Briggs, who sits across from me. He doesn’t hesitate a second to fill the cap close to the rim, and I grip it from him and toss it back. Warmth spreads through me as I finally answer. “I will be in about five minutes.”

Briggs nods, shuffling the deck six ways, making it look easy.

“Should I be afraid?” I whisper to Mullins.

She leans in conspiratorially as Briggs grins at something Jones says. “He’s only lost two hands in the last hour.”

“Damn.”

“I told him you wouldn’t come, but he insisted Jones go get you. I’m glad you came.”

Briggs wanted me here?

I look up to find him grinning at me.

“Want another?”

I swallow. “Another what?”

His smile widens with amusement. “Another shot, Scottie?”

“Oh, sure, yeah.” I extend the empty cap and return his grin as Mullins nudges me, “Someone is crushin’ on you.”

As if Briggs can hear her, he speaks up on his own behalf. “You’ve been killing yourself over there,” he says with a twinge of what sounds like respect. “You need a break.”

“Thanks for noticing, but I’m okay.” I take my cards and spread them out. I only have a pair of tens. I toss three down, and Briggs deals me three more. “I’m not the one risking my life out there every day. Don’t make a hero out of me.”

Morrero speaks up next from where he sits beside Mullins, who hangs on his every word. “I’ve seen the traffic coming in lately,” he says in a somber tone. “You’re appreciated,” he adds as he pours another shot in front of me and then looks over to Mullins. “Both of you.” He hands the Listerine bottle filled with liquor to Mullins, who takes a healthy swig after toasting with me, and I toss mine back. It’s here, sitting at a table full of soldiers with lives, families, and fears of their own, that I finally start to breathe a bit easier.

“During a loud thunderstorm,” Briggs says, before tossing a shot back, “a little girl runs into her parents’ bedroom. ‘Holy shit!’ she screams. ‘And you wanted me to see a doctor about sucking my thumb?’ ”

I shake my head as the rest of the table cracks up laughing. Briggs has been on a roll for the last two hours, freely pouring shots while sweeping the table with the hands he lays. Most of his jokes are chauvinistic or in poor taste, but I can’t help but laugh at him. His attention is divided equally among all of us, and it’s over this time I realize he’s that guy, the attentive one. In his own way, he’s taking care of all of us. I can’t help but admire his spirit—the way he always seems to make the best of the situation. And for those hours, with my head buzzing from the whiskey, and the laughter bubbling up, I forget the ache of missing home.

“Tell the one about the husband and wife,” Morrero orders as he takes another shot.

“Not appropriate,” Briggs says, grinning at his cards.

“Oh, please,” I say. “Like you’ve really been holding back.”

His eyes shoot to mine and hold my gaze. “Trust me, I have been.”

Uncomfortable with the roundabout comment, I shift in my seat and fire back. “Might as well, and for the record, you need new material.”

“Nah,” he says, pulling one of his cards out and pushing it back in his hand. “I’ll keep this one to myself, and if you’ve got better, I’d love to hear it.”

I shrug. “Not my thing.”

“They’re jokes, Scottie,” he says with a frown. “It’s not exactly a hobby.”

In that moment, I feel like an ice princess. I don’t know why I’m riding him so hard or always on the defensive. Maybe I’m a little jealous of his carefree demeanor. I’ve never been one to woo a crowd, but he’s done nothing but cater to all of us since I showed up.

“Tell you what,” I offer. “You find yourself in need of a nurse, I’ll show you exactly what I’m good at.”

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Jones, grab your gun, but don’t get that bullet anywhere near my dick.”

Our eyes lock over the table as I shake my head with a hesitant smile.