“Sawyer, another of my teammates, disappeared during the ambush. We went back later to search for his body, but couldn’t find anything. Then we discovered he’d betrayed us. Sold us out.”
An angry hiss comes from Yara’s direction.
I shift my attention from my lap to her face. “Wethoughthe’d betrayed us. That’s what our superior told us. There was proof. I saw it. Everything pointed to Sawyer taking a payoff, then taking off for parts unknown.”
She nods, silently urging me to continue.
“After that, our team wasn’t the same. Garrett, he was my best friend. And Sawyer… he was a brother to me. Alec, he was another teammate, decided not to renew his contract. Then I was approached about joining Delta—they wanted another HAZMAT expert—and it seemed like a good way to get a fresh start.”
“But?”
“It wasn’t a fresh start. A new team didn’t erase the memories. And I started to struggle with—” I stop. My chest goes tight.
“Ace.” Yara takes my hand. “You can tell me anything.”
In a low tone, I say, “I started to struggle with anxiety. Paranoia. Instead of feeling confident going into an op, all I could think about were all the ways things could go wrong. At first, I thought I’d get past it. But then… my dad got sick.”
Her fingers lace between mine, squeezing gently.
“Congestive heart failure,” I explain. “So ironic, because he’d always been in such good shape. He was a Ranger before he retired. He’s the reason I enlisted.”
“He must have been so proud of you.”
I shrug. “He was. But that’s because he didn’t know how badly I failed.”
“Failed?”
“I failed my team. Garrett. Sawyer.” Shaking my head, I continue, “He wasn’t a traitor, after all. Our superior was the one who took the payoff and set Sawyer up to take the fall. Sawyer was in captivity?—”
I stop, afraid of triggering her.
“You can tell me.”
“Four years. Four fucking years. He just got out last year. He’s doing better now, but shit. I thought he was a traitor. I hated him. When I should have believed in him instead.”
“That’s not your fault,” Yara says. “If your superior told you?—”
“Rationally, I know that. But it doesn’t help.” I shake my head again. “Anyway. My dad got sick, but I was on a months-long op, and I couldn’t get back to see him until… Shit. He only had weeks left.”
“But he understood. Being a Ranger…”
“He did. But it didn’t give me back the months I lost with him. It didn’t make me feel like any less of a failure of a son.”
“Ace.”
“After he died, I went back to work. Threw myself into it, really. But the anxiety…”
“It got worse, didn’t it?” Yara’s voice is soft with understanding.
“It did. A lot worse. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus. My mind wouldn’t stop buzzing. I tried those stupid meditation apps, yoga, hikes in the woods, but nothing helped. Then… I was on an op, and I froze up. Panicked. Literally couldn’t move.”
“Like what happened to me in Tacoma.”
“Kind of.” I turn to her. “Except I could have gotten my team killed.”
“You didn’t, though.”
“Not that time. But what about the next? I couldn’t risk it. And honestly, I was a fucking mess back then. So I took medical leave. And a couple months later, my contract was up. I didn’t renew it because I couldn’t handle being Delta anymore. Couldn’t handle being a soldier anymore.”