Page 57 of Trussed In Hope
He gave a dry laugh. “Not really.”
We stood there for a while, neither of us saying much. The base had that eerie calm it always did after midnight—quiet enough to hear your own thoughts if you were unlucky.
Wyatt finally dropped onto the bench beside me. “You ever think about what happens when all this ends?”
I looked at him, brows raised. “This? You mean the job?”
He nodded. “Yeah. The missions. The noise. The constant movement. One day, we won’t be needed anymore. What the hell are we supposed to do then?”
“Sleep,” I said.
He smirked. “Sure.”
The silence stretched again, heavier this time. I could feel the weight in his question—the same one that sat in my chest most nights. What happens when the only thing you’ve ever been good at is surviving?
I reached down, grabbed my water bottle, and took a long drink before answering. “I don’t know. Guess I’ll find somewhere quiet. Maybe work with my hands again. Figure out who I am when I’m not holding a weapon.”
Wyatt nodded, eyes fixed on the floor. “You think we’ll ever get used to normal?”
“Doubt it.”
He gave another quiet laugh. “Yeah, me too.” He hesitated a second, then said, “Got this buddy who told me about some matchmaking company. Said they work with vets—help guys find someone who can handle our kind of crazy.”
I arched a brow. “You serious?”
“Dead serious. CalledLove Catered. It’s supposed to be more… personal. Psychological or something. They do profiles, compatibility assessments—the whole nine.”
I shook my head, grinning. “Sounds like bullshit.”
“Probably is,” he admitted. “But I figure it can’t hurt to try. What about you?”
“Me?” I scoffed. “Hell no. I’m not built for that.”
He shrugged, grabbing his duffel. “Neither am I. But maybe that’s the point.”
He started toward the door, then paused and looked back. “You ever change your mind, I’ll send you the link.”
I watched him go, the echo of his boots fading down the hallway until it was just me, the hum of the lights, and the ghosts that never seemed to leave.
I didn’t know it then, but that conversation would be the first domino.
Because months later, when the noise got too loud and the silence hit harder than the bullets ever had?—
I’d fill out that damn application. Apparently, he had too.
THE END
