Cruel Summer

Chapter 5

A/N: The drama...the tea...I think you'll enjoy this! As always, let me know what you think!

If Meg thought that her life had ended many times before—having to see John Egan ride past her in a jeep, unable to even look in her direction was the apocalypse in her opinion. She could handle her brother being shoved unceremoniously back into her life and forcing her from her quiet life of abuse and espionage.

She could handle killing her husband and blowing up a damn house—being a gunner and escaping assault yet again. She could handle coming face to face with her father and even could handle being hugged—even though it made her want to vomit, made her way to stab him in the chest for even touching her—

But him? Her untouchable Bucky Egan, the dream that silently kept her moving, kept her breathing, kept her alive? She couldn't handle him—not when she was like this and broken and shattered beyond repair. His presence was a damn tornado touching down suddenly in the middle of a summer storm and there was nothing she could do to stop the carnage that he would wreak on her heart—her heart which she had buried and locked away for this very purpose.

To her credit, Meg did not move. She just stood there wearily and warily—taking note of the fact that there was a growing crowd of men and surely they would have questions as to why a woman was with a group of American pilots that had been downed in France.

Colonel Lewis seemed to have the same thought, gaze sharpening. "Interrogation, now." His stern tone left no room for argument from any of the men.

But Alex just gave a wince and Colonel Lewis's head snapped towards him. "You're hit—"

"Not me. Margie here got stabbed."

If looks could kill , Alex Lewis would be dead, buried, and his sister would be dancing on his grave by now. As luck had it, none of those had happened. Colonel Lewis's sharp gaze fell on his daughter—concern shooting through him as he realized that there was indeed crimson bleeding through her shirt.

"It's just a stab wound—" Meg started.

But her father had already determined that if he was going to do an interrogation with his daughter, it would have to be done in the hospital wing of Thorpe Abbotts. "Jeep, now. We're headed to medical and you can give me your report while you're there," He merely pointed at the jeep, regular commands slipping from his lips.

For a moment there, Meg wondered what would happen if she just said no. She wasn't one of his soldiers, she wasn't one of his subordinates—she was a damn spy for the SOE, the Special Operations Executive. And while her father may indeed be someone inducted into the smaller portions of the order, he was not her boss. Not by a longshot.

Sensing that denying her father his request would end worse than she wanted, Meg just let out a huff and gave a nod. The jeep ride along the base was quiet, the three remaining members of the Lewis Family unable to form a single coherent sentence. Unable to navigate the uncharted waters that they now found themselves in.

When they arrived outside the hospital wing, Meg nearly tripped getting out of the jeep. Her head felt entirely like she had shoved cotton swabs down inside of her brain—and there was a nauseating dizzy feeling that was starting to hit her from the fingers and up into the rest of her body.

"Meg—" Alex's voice was filled with a slight tone of worry.

She just straightened up, shooting him her worst glare—she didn't need him helping her or touching her in any capacity. "I'm fine," she insisted, words coming out like the very knife she ripped from her ribs.