“You’re saying you don’t count your time in Afghanistan as a vacation?”
“It was better than others’ time there.”
My mom narrows her eyes at me. “Just because you could’ve had it worse doesn’t mean you have to deny how hard it was.”
“I know,” I say. And I do. She’s lectured me enough about it that sometimes that exact phrase plays in my mind on repeat while I’m working out. It makes for a long hour when that’s constantly circling through my brain.
“It’ll be nice for you to see Jaxon again,” Mom says. “You two were good friends during your junior and senior years. I always felt bad for him.”
“If it goes anything like the ten minutes we were together in Denver, I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
“You should see if you can spend some time with him while you’re there. You two always got along so well.”
I grunt a reply, trying not to grimace or give extra attention to her repetition. We, as humans, repeat ourselves a lot. Most of the time, people don’t pay any attention to it, but now I’m analyzing everything my mom says and does, and it’s hard not to take a repeated phrase or a simple forgetful moment as a sign of something worse.
“I’m serious, Carter. You need a friend.”
I shovel more food into my mouth before realizing she’s going to make me answer. “I’ve got Bill.”
“You need friends your age.”
“I’ve got Wes and Vince,” I say, naming my two buddies who served in the Rangers with me.
“Friends in Wild Bluffs.”
“I went to that thing at Ken Harper’s house.”
“That was last summer!”
And I have absolutely no idea what I had been thinking. Jen Harper cornered me in the diner and invited me to their annual summer party. I tried to get out of it, but Bill heard and invited my mom—just my mom—over for dinner that night so I could go. I couldn’t get out of it then, so I went. And it was…fine. I guess.
Except I had to double my time in the gym for the next month just to get the image of Kelsey Harper’s lips wrapped around the tip of a longneck beer bottle out of my head.
No,friendsis not what I need.
Chapter three
Kelsey
“Weneedanotherdeskin here,” I say as I look at my sister Bryn across the folding table where we’re both working. “Remember the good old days when Lila’s desk was free for us to use?”
“Or you could both go to your homes where you have offices,” Izzy replies, leaning back in her nice office chair.
I wonder if I can convince her to give me her desk to work at today.
“No,” Izzy says, as if reading my thoughts. “This is my office. Becca and I pay money for it. You can’t have my desk.”
Becca laughs from behind her screen, but I keep my gaze focused on Izzy.
“I’m not giving in to your mind-ninjaing,” Izzy says sternly. “Buy your own damn desk if you want one in here.”
“Why would I buy a desk for in here?” I reply. “This isn’t my office. I have a perfectly good one at home. With far less company.”
Izzy lifts an eyebrow. “Exactlymypoint. Go work at your house.”
“I need to finalize things with Lila for when I leave next week.”
“Then go work at her house.”
