Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(23)

The entire event felt whimsical to him. Declan remembered sending Tobias off the same way, and how excited he was. Declan also remembered how the glint in Tobias’ eyes had changed just weeks later when he returned. In a few weeks’ time, Tobias had lived a lifetime—he saw nothing the same as he had before, and now it would be much the same for Declan.

Declan was a little unnerved about the choice he’d made, but his dad told him that meant he wanted it, and he believed him—because he knew he did.

“Knock, knock,” Declan heard and turned to see Atticus leaning in the doorway to the ten by twelve room he shared with Nolan. A room that had flags and posters of half naked women pinned to the walls.

“What’s up?” Declan asked in his standard stoic tone.

“Just checking out my room. I think I’m gonna to put a gaming system right ‘bout here,” Atticus said, stretching his arms out on the far wall.

“Coming back,” Declan said not bothering to hitch the grin Atticus was hunting for.

“In four years,” Atticus spat, plopping down on Nolan’s bed.

“I’ll be back for the Rally, and some between then.”

“And there’re plenty of beds in this town for you to fall into,” he taunted, which earned him a hard glare.

“Daddy’s worried about you.”

Declan paused his packing for a mere second, long enough for Atticus to notice, then went back to his task. “He say so?”

“Naw, I can just tell. He won’t sit still and keeps looking at his watch like he has somewhere to be. He and Tobias have been talking a lot, too.”

“That’s good, though.” Declan meant Tobias and their dad talking. It had been a bit tense. Tobias didn’t say it, but Declan knew Tobias felt like he let their dad down, getting hurt, coming home so fast. Tobias was wrong.

Yeah, their dad was proud Tobias went in the Corps, but it was still hard on him to wonder how he was. One day, he’d get a letter from Tobias and laugh and be in the best mood ever, then another letter or email would come, and the mood would shift.

Declan was glad he was signed up long before the news came about how bad Tobias was hurt. Before Tobias told his dad how many of his buddies didn’t come back, and if they did, they had far more than a rod in their back to contend with.

Declan was sure if he hadn’t already signed his dad might’ve been a little less eager, gave him a few more warnings, made him wait a year after school to make sure it was what he wanted.

“Want it for you, son. Want it for you.”

Declan wasn’t a fan of waiting on anything. Waiting longer for his time to stand up would have been hell. Even now waiting to figure out who he was going to be in four years was hell on him.

Invisibility. Tobias proved, unwillingly, that even a Rawlings could take hits. But he also proved that stand, fall, or climb back up—Rawlings did so with pride, with honor. Declan was ready to fall into line. To live in the stories he’d heard since before he could remember.

“Yeah, I guess,” Atticus said, looking over Declan. “He don’t seem too worried about Nolan.”

Because Nolan is about to go on a three-month drunk,” Declan thought.

“When you gonna tell him?” Atticus asked as a sly grin eased across his young face.

Each boy had their strong suit; Atticus had always been the observer. He’d still knock the shit out of you if you pushed, but for the most part, he was just obsessed with the human condition. Boon was the hit first ask questions later kind of guy, the rowdy baby. Tobias was the stoic charmer, and Nolan was the free spirit.

And then there was Declan.

He had Nolan’s craving for adventure, Atticus’s will to watch, Boon’s temper, and Tobias’s stoic persona...the charm was lost on him, though. And somewhere in there was all him, a part he was still trying to understand. A part that only surfaced around Justice.

“Not my story to tell, that’s Nolan’s grief.”

“Right, so, when you graduate from camp you’re just gonna look at daddy and be like ‘that’s right! I forgot to tell ya, Nolan is a hippy now. He’ll be home directly, though.’”

A grin busted across Declan’s face as he kept to his task of packing. “Somethin’ like that.” He glanced back to Atticus. “I need a favor.”

Atticus raised his brow. Declan never asked for anything. He was the guy you went to needing a favor. “What’s that?”

“Justice.”

“I knew it,” Atticus said failing to hide a rakish grin.

Declan shook his head, trying to downplay whatever scandalous thoughts Atticus had. Even though the fact he’d bothered to mention her already made it a big deal. “I need this between us, your word.”

Atticus sat up and stared down his brother with a critical eye. “What’s up?”

“Look out for her. If you see something off, tell somebody.”

“Like that Sheriff who is up her ass?” he said with a pissed ‘whatever’ nod. “Or how ‘bout her boyfriend who is right beside him—you know, the jackass who walked away clean from penalty for a fight he started and Nolan finished?” Atticus’s stare questioned Declan, wondering what he knew that was so bad.

“They’re not together, and Monty didn’t do a damn thing to help her mother—why would he help her daughter?”