I knew he was confused.

I licked my lips.

My voice cracked as I explained. "I started having nightmares the day you left for deployment," I informed him. "The same one, night after night, assaulted me in my dreams. You dead and not able to come home to me." I coughed and cleared my throat. "I swore to myself that I'd never have to deal with that. And I think I purposely picked a fight with you so you wouldn't be able to up and die on me, leaving me alone," I hesitated before adding, "It backfired."

I swallowed, chancing a look at his face.

It was blank.

No expression whatsoever.

"Think it's time for you to go," he said softly.

I turned on my heels.

"I'll call you once an hour. If you don't pick up, I'm coming back over here," I whispered.

I saw him nod over my shoulder, and I hurried to my car and didn't look back.

And when I got home, yet again, I cried.

Chapter 5.

When life's too hot to stand, kneel. No really, because heat rises, and you might die if you breathe that air.

-Masen to Mia Masen My luck had run out.

I knew it would.

Booth, although quiet, wasn't afraid to speak his mind.

I'd called him no less than once an hour, setting my own alarm clock to ensure that I wouldn't forget.

And when I'd called at six, he hadn't answered.

He'd answered all the previous times, sounding more and more himself, within four rings.

This time, nothing.

So, I'd gotten in my Jeep, wearing the tight compression shorts and a baggy t-shirt that I'd worn to bed, and started driving across town to Booth's parents' place.

The drive was short, because, let's be honest, Kilgore was small.

It took eight minutes to drive from one border to the other, and that was if you were driving the speed limit.

Go faster like I was doing, and it'd take less than five.

I pulled into the driveway and shut my Jeep off, bailing out of the car and running to the front door.

The door was unlocked, thankfully. I hadn't replaced the key last night in my haste to leave.

The first thing I saw was Booth's body on the floor.

"Booth!" I cried, running towards him.

I stopped, though, when those very pissed off eyes landed on me.

"What?" He snapped.

"You didn't answer," I said hastily, backing away now.

His anger was palpable in the air around us, and I knew instantly that this was one of those times that I needed to think carefully about what I would say.

Booth was a hothead.

He didn't speak much, and when he did, you really should listen.

But get him mad, and he was a force to be reckoned with.

"I'll leave," I said, turning on my heel to hurry to the front door.

I had my hand on the door handle when my body was suddenly covered with the hard, sinewy body of the man that I was in love with. So fucking in love with.

"Why are you leaving?" He asked silkily.

I shivered at the cold menace that practically dripped off his words.

"Because you're okay," I shivered.

"Hmmm," he said, pressing his lips against the back of my neck and inhaling.

My hand groped for the door handle that I'd somehow lost purchase on, but I found his hand instead, covering the handle and locking it at the same time.

"I need to leave," I urged.

"No you don't," he countered. "I have some things I'd like to say to you."

My shoulders slumped, knowing where this was going before any words even left his mouth.

"Okay," I replied, resigned.

He let me go with one last kiss to the back of my head, and I turned to see him walking unhurriedly back to the middle of the room.

He sat on the bar stool that was next to the bar that spanned one side of the room.

A place where we'd played chess. Monopoly. Drank and ate.

Among other things, I thought.

"I remember everything you said last night," he informed me.

I bit my lip and pressed my back closer to the door, praying that it'd swallow me whole.

It didn't.

"What's that?" I decided to play dumb.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, I know what you're referring to, but I'm not sure what there really is left to say about it," I amended.

He crossed his arms over his chest, making the muscles on his chest bunch and jump with the movement.

My eyes zeroed in on the tattoo that I'd seen the night before at the hospital, the one I'd prudently ignored.

Now, though, in the light of the morning, there was no denying it.

That was our tattoo.

I had the same one on my back.

When we were front to back earlier, they'd most likely been touching...as they were intended to.

His was the mouth of a cougar, strong and fierce, teeth gleaming against his sun kissed skin.

When they were touching? Well then mine looked like my flesh was being pierced by those teeth inked to his skin. Looked so real that you could swear it was the real thing.

It was stupid...something we both did when we were young. But there was no denying that we had the tattoo, and when we were in the same room, everyone would know what they meant.

He led right into what was bothering him, not pulling any punches.

"What hurts the most, is watching you walk away. We had everything. Love. Time. Our whole motherfuckin' lives in front of us, and you threw it away in a fit of anger over something that I had no control over!" He finished with a roar. "You fucking gutted me. Pulled my heart out from thousands of miles away and stomped on it. Only minutes before I had to go on patrol," he pointed his finger at me accusingly. "Who does that?"

I was crying.

I didn't mean it! I wanted to say.

But I had meant it. At the time.

I'd known minutes after doing it that I'd screwed up.

I'd tried to call him back, but I'd known the instant I'd pressed *69 that it wasn't going to work like I wanted it to.

He'd called me back after getting my message to call him. He'd called from the community phone. It was routed through so many people and places that I knew it was fruitless.

I'd written him letters.

I'd sent him emails.

I'd called. And left messages.

Over and over again.

Hell, I still sent him letters.

I'd tried to move on.

But after trying to do it for years, I knew, just like I had known with Bowe, that it was pointless.

Sometimes I put on an act...one that made me seen like I was more 'okay' than I really was.

I had nothing to say. Nothing at all.

'I'm sorry' didn't even seem good enough.

But I tried any way.

"I'm sorry," I whispered brokenly.

He laughed humorlessly. "You're sorry?"

I closed my eyes.

"If you were sorry, you would've not said those words in the first place," he said through clenched teeth. "Then I come home, and you're right back in my heart. In my fucking space. And you lay that shit on me last night and don't even have the nerve to stay? That's just fuckin' typical of you, Masen. You say what you have to say and never face the consequences of your words and actions."

I shook my head, trying to clear my brain.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"Look at me," he said through clenched teeth. "I want you to stay away from me. If I'm somewhere, you leave."

I nodded. I could do that.

"Okay," I said.

"And don't be mean to Emily," he said.

"Emily?" I said, hoping he wasn't meaning who I thought he was.

"You saw her the other day at the fire station," he said.