“Nah. It’s Boston she dislikes. The beach is great.” However, now I think back on her reluctance, I wonder. “Besides, security on the island is excellent.”
Mack nods thoughtfully. “So, they haven’t caught the bastards who kidnapped her. Let me guess, the FBI wants to catch the big fish?”
How the fuck is he always so spot on?
Thankfully, the school bell rings and his eyes dart up and down the street. Content nothing is amiss, he takes another drag on his cigarette and rubs his sleeve over an imaginary spot on my limo’s hood. “So… you having bad dreams again?”
My jaw ticks.None of his bloody business.“Maybe.”
The motherfucker was special forces, he reads minds like a fuckin’ gypsy. “You think you fucked up. Am I right or am I right?”
“I was there and didn’t do shit.”
“Sometimes, pal, shit happens. I’m surprised Grayson had you on the clock at your own wife’s baby shower.”
“I wasn’t. Still, I should’ve seen them coming. Maybe my luck has finally run out.”
Thank God the kids come running out of the school and put an end to the conversation. Mack grinds his cigarette butt into the pavement then runs over to take the hand of a young kindergartener with big eyes and long dark hair.
I jump out and open the door for the brown skinned ten-year-old. After I drop him off, I go home to an empty apartment. There’s leftover Chinese but after I sniff, it gets tossed in the garbage.
It really doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry. I glance at the number of the recruiter who’s been bugging me for weeks, press dial, then hang up. Maybe tomorrow, we’ll talk.
Then, I try my wife’s number and after a few rings, it goes to voice mail.
“Hey luv, it’s me checking up. Call me back.”
I wait, but after no answer, wander into the nursery. If I deploy, I’ll watch my baby grow up here, via cameras and Facetime. Daddy will be an image on a computer screen that only shows up live a few weeks out of the year.
That’s the price guys like me pay if I want my wife and kid safe from terrorists. Another part of my brain shouts I’ve already paid my dues but I shut it down with a bottle of cheap whiskey.
I fucked up. My wife and kid almost died.
After checking in with Slate, I watch a few movies then try to sleep but the nightmares come back after a few hours. There’s plenty of bars open at this time of night, so I find one, have a few more drinks, then head home. I crash until the alarm goes off to bring the prince to school.
About three days later, this becomes my routine.
I don’t bother to change my clothes because what’s the point? The prince doesn’t mind and neither does the bartender.
Saturday, I order a pizza in the afternoon and try my wife again. I understand why she might be pissed off but she’s never given me the silent treatment before. Maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought.
Around nine at night, a call from my brother Ben comes in on my phone’sWhat’s App. I ignore the first two sets of rings and pick up on the third. I don’t want him traveling to the states because I’m an asshat and he’s worried.
He may try to convince my other brother to come and my mom, too. I’m not ready for family right now.
“Hey.” My attempt at sounding cheerful falls flat, even to me.
“Hey, bro. I heard you had a little excitement.”
“Yeah? Where’d you hear that?” I pour a little more amber liquid into my glass and swirl.
“Made the national news. When were you plannin’ on tellin’ me?”
“Ah… never?”
“Fuck, Lochlan. Why do you need to be so closed?”
“Because, there’s no point in worryin’ everyone. Okay? Callie’s fine. The baby’s fine. I’m fine. The whole fuckin’ world is fuckin’ fine.”
