"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 25: Trust

Trust, just like fear, is a complex beast.

While fear lingers in the background waiting for its time to reign, trust seems to always be at the ready. As soon as someone meets another person, there is that question which is asked almost immediately: can I trust this person?

First impressions are everything.

Do they give you the ick? Do they have a strong handshake? What are their vibes like? Is how they look at you approachable or does it make you recoil in disgust?

But then they could just be acting, couldn't they?

A flash of a smile could dazzle you, a quick compliment to attract you, and they would have you entangled in a web of trust that is difficult to unweave yourself from. And if the threads that connect the two of you are ever severed by the other person and not by your own hands, it takes forever to reassemble any semblance concerning how you trust people.

It could take months or even years to trust someone like you used to as the relinquishing of yourself came so easily, so effortlessly.

It would never be the same, though, once ruined.

Any connection you make with new people will always be thin and frayed unless they give you a reason to take that extended hand of theirs and begin to repair a broken loom.

And that was how I felt sitting in Price's office as I stared back at him, both of us hesitant to try and repair what we'd both done. Him, yanking me out of a place of comfort to force me into a life I really didn't want to live again. Me, going behind his back out of pettiness.

"You're not ready," he said. He'd said those words countless times before, it just irked me even more this time around.

I tried to breathe through the irritation building in my chest, and as much as I wanted to give him a true piece of my mind, I had to keep my composure and those fiery emotions in check. "I feel ready, Price, and you're not giving me the chance to prove myself."

"Feelin' ready and bein' ready are two different things, Kelsey... I can't just let you go on a mission when you're not physically where you were a year ago. It would be suicide."

This was more of the Price I knew, unlike the one that dragged me out of Russia a month and a half ago. A Captain who truly cared whether or not dog tags returned attached to living, breathing human beings around a warm neck with a strong pulse.

Seeing that he actually wanted to treat me as a person and not a soldier, I let my tensed shoulders slump a bit. "How long did you expect to give once bringing me back, Price? You searched to find me for a reason, and now that I'm here, it's being procrastinated."

I felt as if I were getting a taste of cabin fever with the same, bare walls everywhere I went, taunting me. Like a rat trapped in a maze, I couldn't find my way out, and I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. There was no exit until permitted to do so.

"I don't want to send you out before I have absolute confidence in your abilities. I do agree that our best shot at getting Graves' attention and location would be by utilizing your idea, however, it's going to take a lot of planning."

I didn't hesitate when I answered, "Then let's start planning."

The sutures that lined my skull fought for dominance in the war that the notches of my vertebrae wanted to initiate when it came to which felt more burdened. So much of the day enveloped my cranium as if it were trying to constrict the brain matter right out while the stress lined my spine that pushed through every physical and emotional pull the day had subjected it to.

Granted, it was my fault for elbowing my way through the rest of the conversation with Price as if I were being dog-piled by hoards of hostiles, continuing to argue with him being so stubborn. It took at least fifteen more minutes of advocating for myself before he conceded.

A promise from me finalized his decision.

He would settle for nothing but perfection. Perfect aim when shooting and not a single loss in sparring. I could not be tardy for anything, and if I stepped one more toe out of line, he'd call Alejandro back up and push the dates back further and further. Or cancel the whole mission entirely.

It was up to me now, or I compromise the whole thing.

I didn't even bother knocking when I wrenched the door open to Simon's private quarters, knowing he was done with the bulk of socialization his duties demanded of him and would most likely be finishing up signing off on paperwork.

My assumptions were confirmed when he peered up from said documents, and I couldn't decipher if it was more amusement or relief when he saw that it was me who barged into his personal space.

"I just need to lie down," I said as I face-planted into his mattress with a muffled grunt.

As I sank further into his sheets, surrounding myself with the familiarity of solace provided by his secluded domain, the sound of papers ruffling filled the room before the chair creaked, signaling that he'd stood up.

I turned my head when I felt the space next to me dip from his weight when he joined, a brow raised as he inquired silently about my day.

The way he looked back at me iced my stomach with guilt.

It was like I was the only woman left on this godforsaken planet, reminding me of the trust I might demolish between the two of us.

No, there was no 'might' about it. This was going to strangle every ounce of it right from his heart and whatever was squeezed out, would automatically be stomped on repeatedly until nothing remained but the dirt.

There was nothing that I wanted more than to allow everything to spill from my tongue at that moment, disclosing the plan that he would surely disagree with me leaving for, but I kept it all behind the prison bars that were my teeth.

The second thing I desperately wanted was to close the rest of the proximity between us. That one I could unapologetically allow myself. Turning to my side, I tucked into his chest as he propped his head up with an elbow, palm on his cheekbone.

Burying my face in his chest, smothering myself in his scent, I was caught off guard by smelling a hint of pine instead of his usual tobacco and smoky vanilla. It immediately sent me back to springtime in Tennessee where the cool air engulfed me like a warm embrace that could only be compared to a lover's. I could almost hear the rush of a passing ravine over moss-blanketed rocks, and my hands squeezed onto the back of his shirt a bit tighter, an attempt to get as close to him as possible.

"You smell like the mountains..." I murmured, the fragrance practically lulling me to sleep.

"You like it?"

A bit of my homesickness seeped through my tone. "Smells like home."

His chuckle vibrated against my cheek I had rested against his chest. "Is it wooing you?"

In my mind, the question translated to: is it tempting you to stay?

I matched his chuckle, albeit, it was a bit subdued compared to his, my exhaustion winning. "I think I've already been wooed, Si, but it's definitely working in your favor."

Was it, though?

Was it?