Mike picked it up. “Shan…” His voice broke. “This is what your mom wanted for you. She talked about it often.”
Shannon crossed her arms. “That’s the problem.”
Mike blinked. “What?”
“I don’t know if it’s whatIwant—or if it’s just her dream you keep trying to shove down my throat.”
The kitchen went silent.
Finally, Sam spoke. “It doesn’t have to be today’s decision.”
She turned on him. “Don’t you start too.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m saying you’ve got time. And you earned the right to choose whatever you want.”
Shannon wanted to argue, but no words came. She snatched up the letter, threw it on top of the others, and stalked upstairs.
The slam of her attic door echoed through the house.
The porch creaked beneath them,old wood settling with two men who’d carried more than most. Ford Cox sat back in the weather-worn chair, one shoe resting on the railing, beer in hand, untouched. Mike’s bottle dangled loose between his fingers. His eyes were fixed on the tree line like it might give him an answer he didn’t want to say out loud.
“You’re losing her,” Ford said quietly.
Mike flinched but didn’t look away from the trees.
“She needs you, Mike,” Ford added. “Not the uniform. Not the ghost in your office. You.”
Mike exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “You think I don’t know that?”
Ford took a sip, letting the silence stretch again. “I think you know it,” he said finally. “I just don’t think you know what to do with it.”
That earned him a sideways glance, sharp but exhausted. “What do you want me to do, Ford? Sit her down and, what, talk about feelings?”
Ford’s expression didn’t change. “Start with showing up.”
Mike leaned back in his chair, spine stiff. “I’m at work twelve hours a day trying to hold the line. Trying to keep everything from falling apart.”
“You’re doing that at the Pentagon,” Ford said, voice low but even. “But it’s here where things are breaking.”
Mike didn’t respond, just stared out to where the lake shimmered with moonlight.
Ford shifted forward, arms resting on his knees now. “Show her who you are. Be her dad. Stop hiding behind work.”
Mike looked down at the bottle in his hand, turned it once and said nothing.
Ford studied him for a second longer, then added, almost casually, “I’ve been working on your request.”
That got Mike’s attention. A glance, wary but engaged.
“I spoke to Troy,” Ford continued. “I think Dante Olivetti would be perfect.”
Mike frowned slightly. “Tony’s kid?”
Ford nodded. “Quiet. Smart. Military family. Knows how to operate in the background. Clean file. Zero baggage. And Shannon doesn’t know him.”
Mike’s brow furrowed. “Will he do it?”
“He will if asked.”
