Battle Scars

Chapter Two: The Fresh Start

Moving in with Nate was supposed to be the easy part.

I'd had weeks to prepare myself for this—weeks to think about what life would be like without the rigid routine of the military. But now, standing in my new room, surrounded by half-unpacked bags, it felt like reality was catching up faster than I could keep it at bay. The apartment was bigger than I expected and had this strange mix of Nate's clutter and an almost sterile cleanliness that I figured belonged to Jayson. My new roommate.

Nate had been right—Jay was intimidating. More so than I imagined. Tall, dark-haired, covered in tattoos that even made me pause for a second, and I'd been around plenty of inked-up military guys, hell I'm covered in tattoos myself. But it was the way he looked at me like he was sizing me up, waiting to figure me out.

What he didn't know was that I wasn't the figuring-out type. Not anymore.

"Leah, you need anything?" Nate's voice carried down the hallway, breaking my thoughts. He knocked lightly on my door before opening it a crack. I could see the excitement in his eyes. Nate had always been a bit like a puppy—eager to help, loyal to a fault, and never quite knowing how to sit still.

"Yeah, I'm good," I lied, plastering on the smile I'd mastered over the years. The one that told people I was fine even when everything was a mess inside.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Great! I was thinking we could order some takeout tonight. You know, celebrate your first night back in civilian life. Jay's got this obsession with Korean BBQ, but I figured we could do whatever you're in the mood for."

"Korean BBQ sounds great," I replied automatically, more interested in taking the focus off myself than caring about what was for dinner.

Nate beamed, and I could see the relief in his eyes. He needed this to be okay. He needed me to be okay. And I'd be damned if I let him down.

"Awesome. Jay is out for a run, but he should be back soon. We can all eat together." He looked around the room, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's not too bad, right?"

"It's perfect, Nate. Thanks for letting me crash here for a while."

"Of course," he said, his voice turning serious. "You're family."

The words hung between us, heavier than they should have been. There was a time when that word—family—meant something simpler, something safe. But now it was a lifeline, and I didn't know how to hold onto it without pulling Nate under with me.

"I'll let you finish unpacking," he added quickly, like he could sense the shift in the air. Nate wasn't great at reading between the lines, but he knew when to back off.

Once he left, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I wandered to the window, looking out at the street below. The city felt different from the base—no fences, no rigid schedules. No one yelling at you to get up at the crack of dawn or run drills until your muscles screamed.

It was quieter here. Too quiet.

The doorbell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. I heard Nate shuffling down the hall, followed by the sound of the front door opening. He was back to his enthusiastic, rambling self—probably the delivery guy. I headed out of my room to join him, hoping that some greasy takeout and Netflix would help me forget about the empty spaces in my mind.

When I stepped into the living room, though, it wasn't a delivery driver at the door. It was Jay, his t-shirt drenched in sweat, earbuds still dangling around his neck. He glanced at me, then quickly looked away, muttering something under his breath as he made his way to the kitchen.