Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Getting a table was out of the question, so we’d have to eat at the bar.
I ordered us two pints while Paul went to the head. Again. He’d had stomach problems since I’d arrived in Afghanistan, pretty much.
Despite the ruckus around me—from sailors who were clearly visiting the port, not stationed here permanently—it was easy to sink into my mind, where it was quiet and still. I was simply too exhausted to register the laughter, the glasses clinking, the pissing contests, and the back pounding.
I stared at the stuffie on the bartop and took a swig of my beer.
Fifteen days was much too long to go without Danny. My God, had he changed me.
Before I’d recruited the twins, I’d been used to longer assignments. A month or two, sometimes three. Being on my own hadn’t bothered me much either. Granted, I met up with other contractors from time to time. Like I’d done with Paul now. We’d finished the job he’d started. I’d led the way to a safe area for him and his interpreter.
I’d kept my promise to Danny too. Not a single scratch.
Part of me was dying to find the nearest pay phone so I could call him, but I knew it would make the longing worse. Besides, we were initially supposed to be dropped in Florida. Then we’d landed in Germany and gotten a ride from the Marines instead, bringing us to Norfolk. Much closer to home.
I could last… I checked my watch. Hm. Some eighteen hours…? Thereabouts. And then I’d have him in my arms again.
Hopefully, he’d like the toy. It was a golden retriever.
I’d gone into the store utterly clueless—I’d just seen the displays for those Beanie Babies, and I’d decided to get him one. Then I’d arrived in the right aisle, and I’d stood there a solid minute or two, wondering what the fuck I was doing. Until I’d spotted this one.
If I was his first rescue dog, this could be his second.
“For your kid?”
I turned toward the voice, coming from a young man seated next to me. Definitely a sailor.
“Something like that.” I grabbed the toy and stuck it into the inner pocket of my jacket.
“Do you realize it’s the middle of summer?” He smirked.
Yes, well. I wasn’t going to explain to him that a ride home in a C-130 was cold as fuck or that a jacket was the best way to conceal weapons or, frankly, that I’d been too exhausted and scatterbrained when we’d left the hotel. I’d grabbed my jacket out of habit.
Most contractors I knew had one weak spot, myself very much included. And it was the two or three days that followed an assignment. When we got home and landed mentally, we were…not really present. We were tired, a bit spaced-out, and thick in the head.
“Only a sailor would focus on what others are wearing,” was my clever retort.
He grinned and let out a laugh. “Damn, man. I should’ve stayed on the ship.”
Possibly.
I side-eyed him and then refocused on my beer. The young man was handsome and charming in that “I haven’t seen the world yet” kind of way. The type of wet-behind-the-ears attractiveness I only found appealing because it made me miss those days. When nothing weighed you down, when you didn’t know shit, and when the world was still your oyster.
I’d never seen Danny that way. He’d been hardened already when I’d come to Fort Campbell.
Fucking hell, I missed him. I’d had a sucking feeling in the pit of my stomach since the day I’d flown out, basically. It tightened and grew more painful whenever I pictured his face.
At this point, I was fairly certain I loved him, but I wasn’t going to be the idiot who blurted it out just because I hadn’t had him in my arms for two weeks. Then again… I sighed to myself and drained my beer.
It wasn’t going to be long before I told him.
Needing a distraction until Paul returned, I turned to the kid next to me again, and I asked if they’d just arrived in port today.
“Yesterday, but I was too tired to go ashore last night.” He fiddled with the label on his beer bottle. “To be honest, I was too tired today too. All these fuckin’ drills, man. I get it, but when it’s all you do, they seem pointless.”
Oof. I’d heard that before.
“Are you military?” he asked me.
“No.”
He observed me for a beat. “You have an accent.”
I chuckled. “All right.”
“All right,” he mimicked. “Are you British?”
“You’re sharp.” I got the bartender’s attention and gestured for another pint. “What’s your name, sailor?”
“Elliott,” the kid replied. Literally—kid. Was he old enough to be in here?
I nodded once. “You focus on those drills, Elliott. I assure you, they’re not pointless.” My guess? We were looking at the next war within five or six years.