"I did two tours in Afghanistan," I say, because I'm tired of him guessing.Tired of the questions I can see forming behind his eyes."Marine Corps.Infantry.Got out eighteen months ago on a medical discharge."
"Combat related?"
"Yeah.I was in a jeep crash.Fucked me up real good."
It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.The real reason I got out was Randall.The real reason was that staying in meant staying with him, and I was going to die if I did that.
But Timothy doesn't need to know that part.
"Where did you serve?"he asks.
"Helmand Province.Sangin.Marjah.All the garden spots."
His mouth quirks."I spent time in Sangin.Small world."
"Too small."
We stand there in the dim light of my living room, two former soldiers who probably passed each other a dozen times overseas without knowing it.
"Army Rangers," he says."Fifteen years.Retired six months ago."
"Why?"
"Took shrapnel in Kandahar.Leg."He taps his right thigh."Healed, but I walk with a limp now.Knew my days running ops were numbered, so I got out on my own terms."
I glance down at his leg.I didn't notice a limp, but now that he mentions it, I can see the way he favors his left side slightly.
"What brought you here?"I ask.
"I needed a change.Needed somewhere quiet to figure out what comes next."He pauses."You?"
"Same."
It's close enough to the truth.
"The guy in the truck today," he says."You thought it was someone else."
My stomach clenches."It doesn't matter.It wasn't him."
"But you thought it was."
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
I look away."Someone I used to know."
"Someone who scares you."
No sense in lying when he already knew the answer to the question."Yes."
"Is he looking for you?"
"I don't know.Maybe.I've been careful."
"How careful?"
"Careful enough."I turn back to face him."I paid cash for this apartment.I don't have social media.I don't use credit cards.I work at a diner where no one asks questions.I've done everything right."
