Chapter 462
[ 489 words ]
Chapter 462:
She snatched her hand back as though the brace had burned her.
“Show some respect, Nurse Wright,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was dangerously cold, carrying across the sudden hush that had fallen over the nearby tables. “You were warned once today about boundaries. I will not warn you a third time. If you require remedial instruction on military protocol, personal conduct, and basic professional judgment, I can have your supervising officer provide it in writing.”
The blood drained from Ashley’s face, leaving it a sickly, mottled white. The eyes of everyone around them were fixed on her, a mixture of pity and scorn.
Caroline watched from the entrance, her expression perfectly, unnervingly calm. There was no anger, no flicker of jealousy, not even surprise. She looked like she was watching a mildly interesting but ultimately irrelevant nature documentary.
After dispatching Ashley, Jarrod’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for her. He knew she must have come looking for him. Their gazes met across the mess tent.
He saw the placid look on her face. He had expected, hoped for, a flash of possessiveness, a tightening of her jaw, a storm in her eyes. He saw nothing.
And in that moment, a hot, irrational anger surged through him, far more potent than the irritation he’d felt with Ashley. Her calmness wasn’t trust. To his frayed, terrified mind, it was indifference. It was proof that he simply didn’t matter enough to her to fight for.
Jarrod strode toward her, his long legs eating up the distance across the mess tent floor. His face was a thundercloud, his eyes dark with a storm of emotions she couldn’t begin to decipher.
Brenna saw him coming and immediately stood up, grabbing her empty tray. “Okay, we’re leaving,” she whispered to Caroline, giving her a panicked look before making a hasty retreat with Dr. Croft in tow.
𝗥еa𝘥 𝘧𝗿𝗈m у𝗈𝗎𝘳 𝗉𝘩оnе 𝗈ո 𝘨𝘢l𝗇𝘰𝘷𝖾𝗅𝘀.𝘤𝗈𝘮
The table was empty by the time Jarrod arrived. He didn’t sit. He stopped beside her with the packed meal carrier held awkwardly against his left forearm, his right arm still locked across his chest in the heavy brace. Instead of slamming anything down, he set the carrier on the table with a hard, controlled thud that made the plastic bowls rattle inside. The sound echoed through the suddenly quiet tent.
He stood over her, not with his hands braced on the table, but with his rigid body angled forward just enough to loom. His braced right arm stayed pinned to his ribs. His splinted left hand hung stiffly near his thigh, the swollen fingers incapable of closing properly. He looked like a predator cornering his prey, despite the fact that half his body was being held together by canvas, metal, and sheer refusal to fall apart.
Caroline flinched at the noise but kept her composure. She picked up the extra portion of bread from the carrier and held it out to him. “You forgot yours.”
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