Chapter 24
“According to an official Navy spokesman, both Senior Chief Petty Officer Braedon Foster and Petty Officer First Class Michael Drake are recovering with their families after their surprise rescue.”
The anchor looked at her co-anchor. “It really is a miraculous event, Jeff. I can only imagine the relief these families are feeling.”
“And I understand there’s a rumor that the sister of one of the SEALs took part in the rescue,” the male co-anchor said.
“That’s true. Senior Chief Foster’s sister is an Air Force officer and was involved in the rescue. I think this nation owes this brave woman a huge debt of gratitude.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Addison rolled her eyes and turned off the T.V., tossing the remote onto the table next to her.
She flipped aimlessly through a magazine while waiting for Braedon to return to his room. After a week of tests, debriefs, and psych appointments, they were finally moving him to out-patient treatment. Which meant he was moving into her apartment until the Navy figured out what they were going to do with him.
Throwing the magazine aside, she picked up her phone and opened the contacts app, scrolling to Devon’s number. She stared at it, once again trying to talk herself into calling him. But she hated being the type of woman who couldn’t take a hint, and what bigger hint was there than walking away without saying goodbye?
She hadn’t said goodbye either, but she’d figured there was time, that there would be a chance—either at the hospital or the terminal—and she’d been wrong. So manyshould haves played through her mind. Should have been more proactive. Should have taken the initiative. Should have called him and asked to see him.
She should do it now, but she was too much of a chickenshit. At least this way she could pretend there was a sliver of a chance he’d call her or…something. She had a glimmer of hope.
Her last senior NCO liked to say that the answer was always no if you didn’t ask the question. If she called and asked the question and he told her he wasn’t interested, that hope would die, and that would hurt. Bad.
Addison touched the “edit” link. She should delete his contact. She should accept that what happened in Crimea stayed in Crimea and move on.
“Hey.”
She jumped and dropped her phone, fumbling it a few times until it hit the floor. Thank God for her protective phone case.
“You good?” Braedon asked.
“Yeah. You startled me.” She shoved her phone in her purse. “All done?”
“Do you know how much paperwork is involved in coming back from the dead? A lot. More than there is to join the military. But yes, I’m done until next week when I have appointments for half the day,” he said.
“At least it’s only one day a week now.”
“True.” He grabbed his small duffle bag from the end of the bed. “Did you know Mom and Dad sold all my stuff?”
She pressed her lips together. “It was one of those things we argued about, yes. Mom kept a lot of your personal stuff though—pictures, awards, and some other stuff. It’s in boxes in the garage.
“What brought that up?” She followed him out of the room and down the hall, waving to the nurses at the desk as they passed.
“I’m going to need to buy a car. I don’t want to take the metro right now with my face all over the news and I can’t keep relying on you for a ride.” They entered the elevator, and he pushed the button for the ground floor. “Do you want to go to the USO for lunch? I think they have Subway today.”
“Sure.” She looked at him and tilted her head.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” He brushed at his nose.
“Can you buy a car if you’re officially dead?”
“Ha. Ha. My resurrection should be official in a day or two.” The doors opened, and he poked her in the back. “Go.”
“You can borrow my truck. The only thing I have planned next week is to go to an informational session at the college.”
“Have you officially applied yet?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not yet. I want to attend the session first. Do you want to drive or walk?”
“Let’s walk. It’s only five minutes, and then we can work off our lunch on the way back to the parking garage.”
