The General

Chapter 2.

The hum of the tires against the asphalt provided a steady, rhythmic backdrop to the reunion. Briar gripped the steering wheel of her car, her knuckles occasionally whitening as she navigated the congested traffic leaving the base. In the passenger seat, Archer was a whirlwind of restless energy, adjusting the vents, fiddling with the radio, and eventually settling on just staring out the window at the civilian world he’d missed for nine months.

​In the backseat, Victor Bennett was silent. He sat perfectly still, his large frame making the interior of the car feel suddenly very small. He didn't look at his phone; he didn't fidget. He simply watched the world go by, his presence a heavy, silent weight that Briar could feel pressing against the back of her headrest.

​"So," Briar started, breaking the silence as she merged onto the highway. "Nine months in the sand. How was it? Besides the obvious lack of Mom’s pot roast."

​Archer let out a short, dry laugh. "Hot. Dusty. Repetitive. Honestly, Bri, most of it was just waiting. Waiting for orders, waiting for intel, waiting for the wind to stop blowing sand into my coffee." He glanced back at Victor briefly before looking back at her. "The rest is... well, you know. Red tape and 'need to know.' Let’s just say I’m glad to be back in a place where the air doesn't feel like a blow dryer."

​"I bet," Briar murmured. She glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes accidentally snagging on Victor’s icy blue gaze. He didn't look away, and for a second, she felt that strange jolt again. She quickly returned her focus to the road. "I tried to keep the 'stay safe' texts to a minimum, but I think I hit a hundred by month three."

​"I saw them," Archer said softly, his silly persona momentarily dropping to reveal the genuine affection underneath. "Every time I got a signal, those pings kept me sane. Thank you."

​The car fell into a momentary, comfortable silence before Archer shifted in his seat, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Speaking of sanity... how’s Travis? I’m surprised the guy didn't fight you for the keys to come pick me up. Is he waiting at the house?"

​Briar’s grip on the wheel tightened. The comfortable bubble of the car popped instantly. She stared straight ahead, her jaw setting in a firm line.

​"Travis isn't at the house, Archer. And he didn't fight me for the keys."

​Archer’s brow furrowed. "Trouble in paradise? Did he forget an anniversary again?"

​"We broke up," she said, her voice clipped. "Four months ago. The engagement is off."

​Archer went rigid. The playful brother was gone, replaced by the soldier who protected his perimeter. "What? Why? What did that i***t do?"

​Briar took a deep breath, her chest tight. "I caught him, Archer. In our apartment. With someone he 'met at the gym.' He didn't even have a good lie prepared. He just stood there looking pathetic while I packed my bags."

​Archer let out a low, dangerous growl. "I’m going to kill him. I’m actually going to find him and-"

​"No, you’re not," Briar interrupted, her voice steady despite the hurt. "He’s not worth the paperwork or court. I’m done with him. I’ve moved my stuff out, and I’m back at Mom’s place. It’s over."

​She felt the need to clear the air, feeling the silent observer in the back seat. She glanced at the mirror again, catching Victor’s stoic expression. "I’m sorry you have to listen to this, Victor," she said, her voice softening. "This probably wasn't the 'welcome home' vibe you were expecting. But this is probably the only time Archer won't be around Mallory for the next two months, and I have to say it."

​In the reflection, Victor didn't look uncomfortable or annoyed. He simply gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, his blue eyes calm. "I’ve heard worse in the barracks, Briar. Don't worry about me."

The atmosphere in the car, already thick with the fallout of Briar’s broken engagement, took a sharp, surreal turn. Archer had been fuming about Travis, his hands balled into fists, but Briar wasn't finished. The weight of the secret she’d been carrying for the last three weeks felt like lead in her stomach.

​"There’s more, Archer," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "It’s about Mallory."

​Archer turned his head sharply, his protective anger momentarily eclipsed by confusion. "Mallory? What does she have to do with Travis being a scumbag?"

​Briar took a shaky breath, her eyes locked on the road. "Three weeks ago, I went to The Rusty Nail. I saw her, Arch. She was in a booth in the back with some guy. It wasn't a 'friend.' They were all over each other. Making out, hands everywhere... I left before she saw me, but I couldn't let you go home and not know."

​She braced herself for the explosion. She expected the same "low, dangerous growl" he’d reserved for Travis- or worse.

Instead, the tension in Archer’s shoulders simply… evaporated. He leaned back into the headrest, a strange, weary smile playing on his lips.

​"Oh," he said simply. "That."

​Briar blinked, her foot hovering over the brake in surprise. "‘That’? Archer, she was cheating on you. While you were risking your life, she was at a dive bar with a stranger."

​Archer let out a short, dry chuckle and reached for the radio, finally settling on a low-fi station. "She wasn't cheating, Bri. We have an... arrangement."