Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Why would it stir up problems? Was your dad married to someone else or something?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of. I mean, he wasn’t married—I would’ve known—but I don’t think he was dating anyone else either. But who knows? What if he was? And I’d go there and introduce myself, and the grieving girlfriend would be like, what the fuck?”
He nodded slowly and picked up his coffee. “Makes sense. On the off chance that your dad had a girlfriend almost twenty-five years ago, it’s best you don’t reach out to your actual family for fear of offending the person who might not exist.”
I shot him a look. That was unnecessary!
He took a swig, mirth flashing in his eyes. Dick. “What information did you get from the Archives? I’m guessing that’s where you got his records.”
Aunt Laura had done most of the work, but yes, the National Archives, with some extra details she’d gotten from another veteran who’d once served with my dad.
“Name, date of birth, rank, service number, medals… His last known address and… Um, his parents—they were listed as next of kin,” I replied. “I looked them up online and found his mother on Facebook, but her account is private. Except, like, I could see comments on her profile picture, which turned me into a stalker of the rest of the family.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’d be curious too. So, who are they? What have you learned?”
Did he really care?
“Um…if my guesses are correct, my dad was the eldest in an army of seven kids.”
Beckett let out a low whistle.
“I know, right? I couldn’t even get my mom to give me one brother,” I went on. “But yeah, so five brothers and two sisters. They’re from Washington state. One of the sisters runs a pastry shop, and one of the brothers has a seafood restaurant. Most of them are private on social—which is another reason I don’t wanna contact them. I don’t think they’d be happy to learn that someone’s been stalking them every couple of months for the past few years.”
In my weak defense, I’d sat on the information from my dad’s records for a long time before I’d mustered the courage to Google his parents.
“See, from my perspective, I’d definitely wanna know if my brother had another kid out there somewhere,” Beckett pointed out. “You’re not a stranger, Leighton. Hell, maybe the mom would be thrilled to see her eldest live on in the next generation?”
Ugh, he sounded like Aunt Laura now.
Beckett sat forward a bit and clasped his hands loosely on the table. “You want my two cents?”
Not really.
“Shoot.”
“When we met, you thanked me for just talking to you,” he murmured. “You’d recently lost your ma, and you were pretty much on your own. I’m thinking the real reason you haven’t made contact with them is because you’re afraid to get rejected. Because when you’re already alone, rejection—particularly from potential family—is essentially death by a thousand cuts. It was much easier to stay in the Army where social interaction and being part of a squad is forced upon you.”
What time was it? Class was about to start, wasn’t it? I wanted to leave. Maybe do some pull-ups before my next deprogramming.
Fuck, he made me uncomfortable. Eye contact wasn’t happening anytime soon, so I had to force myself to eat and focus on my coffee.
“Good job. You know how to profile,” I said stiffly.
He leaned back again. “That one didn’t require any skills in profiling. I’m more interested in finding out why you let Operator Rose believe you don’t know how to use a handgun. Unlike him, I remember your application. You have plenty of experience.”
What? I set down my apple again.
“A buddy of mine was in the gym and overheard Rose’s speech to you about military programming the other day,” he said. “Most of us have been the recipient of a Rose Rambling over the years, especially when it comes to replacing the soldier with the gray man who becomes an operator here. He takes notes on everything—and Coach and I are privy to them.”
What, so Operator Rose had written an assessment based on that brief talk? “He couldn’t have learned that much. He did most of the talking.”
Beckett shrugged. “We gotta start somewhere, and he shares the responsibility for the deprogramming class with Operator Riggs. By the end of your first year, you’ll have your own binder with notes.”
How fun.
Christ.
I took another bite of my apple, and it was my turn to shrug. “A lieutenant once caught me trying to convince a buddy not to get a tattoo, and the old man just walked by and said, ‘Don’t advertise all there is to know about you.’ I guess it stuck. I didn’t lie to Operator Rose…”
That made Beckett smile. “You just didn’t advertise it. Gray-man thinking. That’s good. You sure as hell won’t find anyone encouraging you to get tattoos at Hillcroft.”