Chapter 27

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Nicki

"Nicki. Wake up."

My eyes are closed, but I hear Bey's ragged whisper. She's holding me, just the way she was when I fell asleep last night.

Her breath touches my cheek. "Nicki."

For some reason, I don't want to open my eyes yet. I want to stay like this, cocooned in Bey's arms, warmed by her touch.

"Nicki, please. I have to talk to you."

Her voice is urgent and shaken. I look up into her agonized eyes.

I sit up too fast and groan at my bone-dry mouth and the headache pounding behind my eyes. I so should not have touched that tequila.

"Bey," I croak, touching my throat, like that's going to help, "of course."

I press my hands to her face. "Talk to me."

She wraps her hands around my wrists and closes her eyes briefly.

Then she gently pulls my arms away, squeezing my hands for a second before getting off the bed.

She starts walking in tense circles, hands cupping the back of her head. She's wearing the pants that she wears rappelling and a bra, the ones I'd teased him about having fashionably ripped knees.

She'd archly informed me her pants got their holes the old-fashioned way, by clawing up cliffs and scrambling over boulders.

Bey takes a deep breath and slowly exhales it.

"I know you're exhausted," she says. "But if I'm going to tell you this, I have to do it now. I can't put it off anymore. It's making me crazy."

I nod. She's finally going to tell me what I've wanted to hear.

But right now, all I can think about is how badly I need to pee. And how thirsty I am.

"Sorry," I say, shuffling awkwardly toward the bathroom. "Just give me a minute."

I start to slide on the jeans that Bey must have taken off me last night, then decide not to bother.

It's unlikely anyone is in the hall to see me in just my T-shirt and panties. Everyone's probably still asleep.

I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, gulping down a paper cup of water I've refilled twice.

I crawl back on the bed, propping up the pillows and tucking my legs under the covers.

Bey is still pacing.

Munchie curls up next to me, and I run my hand over his head and back.

Then I give Bey an encouraging nod. But the look on her face sends a prickle of dread over my skin.

"Do you want to sit down while we talk?" I ask, hating the trepidation in my voice.

Bey shakes her head. "I need to move around," she says, drawing another deep breath.

After a long pause, she starts talking.

"I enlisted in the Army the day after I graduated from high school. Against my old man's wishes, like I told you."

She smiles faintly.

"And I loved it, Nicki. Every bit of it. I sailed through basic training. I loved the camaraderie and the sense of purpose it gave me. I couldn't wait to get over there and, as cliched as it sounds, serve my country. I couldn't wait."

Her voice trails off. She's staring at the picture of her mother on the desk.

"I wanted to spend my life in the military," she adds. "I wanted something totally opposite of what my father did with his life."

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