"Pull over."

I glanced across at the passenger seat where Ryan's knuckles were turning white as he braced himself against the dash of my jeep. Sure, maybe I was going a little faster than what was legal, but it was completely necessary. So I ignored the demand for me to pull over.

"I said pull over," Ryan repeated with a glare.

"I heard you the first time, but we're on a time sensitive mission here," I replied. Clearly he didn't understand my urgency.

"Sunshine, I'm warning you." I looked at him briefly. He did look a little green, so I gave in and pulled onto the side of the road. I really didn't want to be cleaning puke from my seats any time soon. He climbed out of the passenger seat, walking around the vehicle, until he reached my door. He yanked it open.

"Get out."

I frowned. What did he mean get out? He couldn't kick me out of my own car. You can't just go around doing that kind of thing.

"Why?"

He sighed. "Just do it."

"Fine," I huffed, removing my seatbelt.

He took my place, and I walked sulkily to take my place sitting shotgun.

We sat in silence for probably close to half an hour as all the scenery blurred together. The radio was playing some crappy pop song that I didn't know, and Ryan was tapping his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel.

I eventually broke the silence. "I still don't get why I can't drive."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Sunshine, I know how badly you want to see your brother, but with the way you were driving you would've killed us both before we got there."

I sighed, knowing that he was right. Wasn't he always?

I stared at his profile while he drove and I couldn't see any flaws. He had a perfectly even skin tone, a symmetrical nose, and flawless skin, not to mention his abnormally long eyelashes, and wasted on a guy. Surely this guy was to good to be true. There must have been something about him that wasn't completely perfect. I had a lightbulb moment. He must be gay. That was the only explanation I had, but then again he did date Erika, which still kinda makes sense. One dose of Erika would be enough to make any straight man want to bat for the other team.

"Like what you see sunshine?" Ryan asked, his lips pulling upwards into a smirk.

Hell yeah.

"Are you gay?"

He launched into a massive coughing fit, trying hard to keep his eyes on the road. He caught his breath, steadying his hands on the wheel.

"It was just a question, no need to be so dramatic. It's okay if you are, I was just wonderi-"

"I'm not gay sunshine."

"Oh," I blinked. "Why didn't you just say that the first time?"

"You kinda caught me off guard, it's not exactly a question I get asked everyday."

I shrugged, turning my head to look out the window. In a way I kinda wished he was gay, not only because gay people make great friends, and I would no longer have to shop with Tara, but if he was gay I'd have no choice but to get over the little crush I'd developed on him, because clearly he wouldn't be able to return my feelings. Not that he would return my feelings anyway, but in my head, if he wasn't gay I still stood a chance.

Selfish? Maybe, but I couldn't help myself.

~*~*~*~*~

I blinked, confused at why my face was squished against the window. It was literally sliding across the slippery surface as we drove down a long, straight road.

You're probably really confused right now, trust me so was I when I found myself physically stuck to the window.

I groaned, squinting as I peeled my face from the window. It was drool that held my face captive. I self consciously wiped my chin and cheeks with the back of my hand. It returned slick with my slippery saliva. I made a face. That's nasty.

I glared at the window, which was also extremely slimy, dry landscape flashing by outside blurry.

"Hey sleeping beauty, you're awake."

I leaned my head against the headrest, completely losing focus on what he just said.

"Where the hell are we?" I asked instead. I didn't see any other cars on the road. I felt that if we were to get a flat tyre of break down we'd starve, then get pecked to death by vultures, and finally, we would be consumed by rabid dogs.

"To be honest, I have no idea. But this place creeps me out," Ryan replied, as if reading my thoughts.

"That's comforting," I muttered. "What do you want to be when you leave school?" I asked out of the blue, to take my mind off our creepy setting. He must've been surprised because he said a few incoherent sentences before giving me a proper answer.

"An architect," he finally answered. I nodded picturing him on a construction site wearing a hard hat and work boots. He looked good. but didn't he always? He would probably still manage to look hot in a meat suit. Lady Gaga ain't got nothing on Ryan Martinez.

"You?" He asked.

Huh? Me what? I was so caught up in my thoughts about meat suits that I forgot what we were talking about. I'm pretty sure we weren't having a conversation about Lady Gaga's fashion statements.

"What do you want to do when you're older?" He clarified.

Oh, right.

"The goal is to do art for the rest of my life, but not many people make enough money to live off that," I thought for a moment. "I want to travel too."

"Where do you wanna go?"

I shrugged. "Everywhere. I want to go to France, Germany, Switzerland, Greece, Albania, Belgium, New Zealand, Australia, India, Croatia."

He smiled as I listed off all the places that I was dying to explore.

"What about you? Are you going to travel?" I asked.

"I'd love to travel, but with my current money situation it probably won't be for a while."

I nodded in understanding, letting a comfortable silence fill the car.

My phone vibrated on my lap, causing my leg fat to jiggle. It felt funny.

I picked it up, staring at the screen. One new message from Jeremy Johnston: we're at Fort Irwin. Caleb's been taken into surgery.

Surgery? Why surgery? I frowned down at the screen, tapping my fingernails on my phone case.

"What's with the frown?" Ryan asked.

"Why would he be in surgery?"

He shrugged. "You said he got shot so maybe they're taking out a bullet."

I nodded vaguely, hoping that he wasn't in too much pain. I mean, I know hospitals use anaesthetics but the thought of scalpels piercing my brothers skin made my own skin crawl. I tried not to worry about him because he told me that I worried too much, but I couldn't help but let questions flood my brain.

What if there was a complication with the surgery? What if something went majorly wrong? What if he didn't make it?

The unanswerable questions buzzed around in my head, making me want to cry as my brain thought of new ways to internally torture me. It had a way of discovering the worst possible scenario and making it seem like there was an entirely real possibility of it actually happening. When realistically, there was probably less than a one percent chance of it occurring. It was so real to me though, like when you have a dream about all your teeth falling out and when you wake up you have to physically check to make sure they're still there.

The hours dragged on and on as we sat mostly in a tense silence. Barely any words were uttered as we neared our destination. I think Ryan could tell that there was no way in hell that he was going to get me talking, so he kept quiet, turning up the radio, which to be honest I didn't mind. The bullshit words helped to distract me from my inner turmoil.

The closer we got to Fort Irwin, the clammier my palms became, and soon I had to swipe them down my jeans to clear them of the moisture.

Ryan noticed and captured one of my small hands in his large one. I cringed as his warm hand closed around mine, not because it was a bad feeling, but my hand was grossly sweating all over his.

"Don't stress sunshine, I'll be there with you the whole time."

I nodded feebly, but that didn't settle the butterflies in my stomach. Actually, they fell more like helicopters. Or freaking bumble bees.

Ryan drove slower as we entered Fort Irwin. We looked cautiously at the men milling around wearing kaki shirts and pants, as well as boots and hats.

"Are we allowed to be here?" Ryan asked skeptically.

"Probably not, but we didn't drive all this way to turn around and go back."

He muttered a few choice words under his breath, following the GPS to the hospital, which was was pretty damn hard to find, seeing as the building was quite small for a hospital.

He parked my jeep in the parking lot, which stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the dull brown colour that coated the rest of the vehicles there.

The hospital seemed empty, barren almost, as we walked up the path to what we presumed were the main doors. It was weird. The was no hustle and bustle of people being ushered in different directions, wheelchairs being rolled on the sterile floor, patients on gurneys being transferred to new hospital wings, there wasn't even another person anywhere to be found as we wandered down the long corridor.

"Would this be a good time to tell you that I really don't like hospitals?" Ryan asked with a sheepish smile.

I suddenly felt bad for dragging him into this. "You don't have to come if you don't want to," I said quietly.

He squeezed my hand. "I was kidding."

"So you aren't afraid of hospitals?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified of hospitals, why do you think I need to hold your hand?"

I secretly smiled, glad that he wasn't one of those guys who hid things about himself that weren't deemed 'manly'.

A nurse wearing a blue shirt and blur pants suddenly appeared from a side corridor, not noticing as as she rushed to her next destination.

"Excuse me!" I called scurrying to catch up with her, dragging Ryan with me.

She turned around, startled and surprised to see us there. She was probably in her mid fifties, with her dark hair tucked into a neat bun and her laugh lines showing us that she was probably generally a happy person.

She smiled gently. "How can I help you?"

"You don't happen to know a Caleb Harper who was admitted a few hours ago, do you?" I asked hopefully.

She thought for a moment before nodding. "Ah yes, the young man in surgery. Such a brave soul."

I sighed with relief. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's still in surgery love, but the waiting room's that way," she pointed to the smaller corridor where we had originally seen her appear from.

I beamed, thanking her profusely as we went our separate ways.

I could hear the people in the waiting room before I could see them, and as we rounded the corner I figured out why. Occupying all but about five seats were marines. Marines, marines, marines, marines, marines. I'd never seen so many burly men in one small room before.

A lot of them stopped their conversations as they spotted us standing there. One guy in particular stood out, mostly because he was older than the rest, but his face was extremely stern looking, kind of like my old geography teacher - I never saw him crack a smile.

He rose from his seat, sauntering over to stand in front of us. He towered over me, and almost matched Ryan's height. The stranger looked us up and down, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He looked down the end of his nose at us like we were gum under his shoe, and I hated it.

"Who are you?" He spoke sharply.

I crossed my own arms, letting go of Ryan's hand in the process. I copied his stance. "Who are you?"

"I asked first," he said, rather childishly if you ask me.

"I asked second, big deal, there's no need to state the obvious here."

He studied me for a moment, narrowing his eyes and I stared back, unblinking. Eventually a grin broke out on his face. I was a little shocked, I thought he was incapable of smiling.

"He told me you were stubborn, but I give you kudos, you're good," he held out his hand for me to shake. I looked at it skeptically, hesitantly taking it in mine.

"Okay, so who the hell are you?" I asked.

He chuckled. "You're a lot like him you know," he gestured to the rest of the guys dressed in camouflage. "I'm lieutenant Adams and this is the rest of his platoon, thought we'd come here to make sure Harper's alright before we go home to our families."

I nodded, trying to take it all in. "So he's still in surgery?"

"Shattered shoulder blade takes a while to fix I guess."

Shattered shoulder blade.

~*~*~*~*~

Guess who has 15.15k reads and 803 votes? This girl right here.

It's actually crazy and I want to thank you guys for all the positive comments and votes on my story.

I did get a negative comment a while ago, saying how much this certain individual hates Tara and how much the plot sucks. Now if any of you guys write, you'll understand that your characters are your babies and you will defend them with all your heart and soul. This person clearly wasn't a writer because if they were they'd know how long it takes to come up with a half decent plot. Needless to say, that comment was swiftly deleted.

Thanks for listening to my rant, I feel better now :)

Thanks to all the people who follow me too, love you guys.

Vote, comment, follow.

Until next time.