23
Trisha couldn’t figure out if she was chicken or pissed. And being in that undecided state, she decided it was best to simply steer clear of Billy. Mostly because she had no idea what she’d say and what she wouldn’t be able to take back later if she changed her mind. Once her head cleared, once her temper had eased enough to think rationally, then she’d be safe. Until then she was as stable as century-old TNT dripping with nitroglycerin.
Stupid Navy didn’t put locks on the doors. If it was valuable, you had a small lockbox, but that was all that was private in the military. That and your thoughts, which she couldn’t seem to get away from.
So, after the following night’s flight, she grabbed a couple sandwiches and a water bottle, then disappeared back to that sprawling empty bunkroom
