Survivor (First to Fight #2)(28)

God, who is this woman? This cool, disengaged creature who is nothing like the girl I used to know. The evidence of her betrayal shakes in my outstretched hand, a demand, a plea. “Then, please, explain to me why one of my friends is writing you love letters?”

She lifts one slim shoulder, the collar of her robe slipping down to expose one creamy white shoulder. “How the hell am I supposed to know? People do crazier things all the time. That doesn’t mean it means anything.”

Rage bubbles thick and hot inside my chest. “You brought it with you. Obviously it means something.”

“What do you want me to tell you, Jack? What answer could I possibly say here that you would believe?” She presses a hip into the side of the desk, her gaze even.

“For the first time in ten years, I just want you to tell me the truth. No bullshit.” I study her for any show of emotion whatsoever, but her face stays empty of response.

“The truth is, it’s none of your business.”

I jerk back, her words a slap in the face. The friendship we had, the love I thought transcended everything, apparently meant nothing to her. I take three steps forward and toss the letter on the graveyard of her clothes scattered over the surface of her desk. “So you f*cked him? Is that why you left town? Why you left me?”

She sighs, as though having this conversation is beneath her, not worth her time. “Do you want me to say it? Fine, I f*cked him. I f*cked him the night mom and I came back from New Orleans. I wasn’t sick that night. I was with him.” She pauses, weighing the tense silence. “Is that what you want to hear, Jack? Do you want to hear how many times he made me come?” For the first time she shows a slice of emotion across her face, just a tightening of the muscles around her eyes and mouth, the slightest sneer around her lips. “How much I screamed for him?”

My fists clench by my hips, my feet are rooted to the ground. She slept with one of my friends. “Jesus Christ,” I breathe, at a loss for words. Did I even know her at all?

“I think it’s time for you to go,” she says firmly.

Time passed.

I turn without another word, my steps heavy, and walk out of the room.

When I get home a few hours later after driving aimlessly around town, I email the contact information on the press release Grady gave me and make arrangements for my reenlistment.





Present



“WHERE’S JACK?” DONNIE asks, looking around the interior of the car like he’ll find Jack hiding behind the seats. “I thought he was going to go to school with us today?”

“He couldn’t make it,” I murmur absentmindedly. I adjust my sunglasses and peer through the windshield, urging the cars in front of me to creep down the school driveway. Five more minutes and they’re going to be late for the first day back at school.

“But he promised!”

“Something came up.”

Donnie sniffles and my heart trips over itself. Goddamn Jack. “Will he be here to pick us up?”

I catch his eye in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think so, buddy, I’m sorry.”

“Probably because you guys were arguing the other day.” When I look in his direction, Rafe is staring out the window, his shoulders slumped and his mouth pulled down in a frown.

Pulling up to the drop-off zone, I turn in my seat to look at them. “Or he’s just busy,” I say.

“He was always around before you came here,” Rafe retorts.

Before I can snap off a response, Rafe jumps from the car and onto the sidewalk. Donnie just gives me this pitiful look and then both boys trot off down the sidewalk.

Neither of them look back at me.

A horn beeps behind me and I glance back at an impatient soccer mom frowning through my rearview. “All right, all right,” I mutter, pulling away with one last look at my brothers’ retreating backs. Day one as responsible sister is a complete failure.

My new job as a tech analyst for a local private investigations firm pays nowhere near what I used to make at my old job, but the people seem nice, and it has a great insurance plan for the boys. After I drop them off at school, I head over to the office to finish some last minute paperwork and to meet the interdepartmental secretary, Anita.

“I sure am glad to get another female in this department,” she says as she gives me a tour of the facilities. She’s around fifty with salt-and-pepper hair and a mile-wide smile. “These boys are great, but they aren’t much for socialization and a lady gets damn crazy without a little chitchat.”

I’m not exactly what you’d call the gal-pal type, but I can’t help the responding smile when she beams up at me. “I don’t know how much good I’ll do with the chit chat, but I can try,” I tell her.

She pats my arm as we walk through the break room. “Don’t you worry, child. I’ll do all the talking. All you have to do is listen. Which is more than I can say for any of these fellows.” She gestures around the room at the four or five guys on break. They’re all submersed in their phones or laptops. The only sounds in the room are the humming coming from the appliances or the click-clicking from the laptops. She gives me a raised eyebrow. “See what I mean?”

Laughing, I follow her out of the break room. “Must drive you crazy.”

“Well, me, not so much. I could talk to a wall if I had to, but my husband…he likes to say I store up all the chatter just for when I come home. I’m sure he’ll be so happy to hear that I’ve got someone else to talk to during the day.”