I need to get this out quickly. “I’m not going to college.” Cassie turns wide eyes to me, but she doesn’t seem upset so before she can say anything, I blurt out, “I’ve signed up for the Army.”
My words hang in the air between us. Her body appears to have turned to stone. I reach my arm around her. She flinches at my touch but doesn’t pull away. Gotta be a good sign I tell myself.
“Cass, speak to me,” I beg.
Swallowing deeply, she then says, “I’m trying to process what you’ve just said—I don’t understand what’s changed—I’m a bit confused...”
Her voice wobbles then trails off. Tears glisten in her blue eyes threatening to fall.
I rush to explain, “I know it sounds sudden—I know I should’ve told you I was thinking of doing this. It’s only since graduation that I’ve been thinking college is probably not for me. Well, not now anyway—maybe in the future. I don’t know.”
Taking a deep calming breath, I continue, “College doesn’t feel right. I think basic training is what I need as it will help me get my head straight.” I guess I’m not making a lot of sense based on the way Cassie is frowning at me.
Shit, I've fucked this up. I drop my head down into my hands.
“Basic training you think! Then what?” she asks, her eyebrows squishing together even tighter. “You don’t sound so sure about any of this.”
“I know, Cass. Not everyone can be as sure of their career and future as you. I don’t have any answers to what next. I’ll need to see how the training goes.”
She jolts upright, as if struck. “Okay. Point taken,” she says quietly.
Shit, shit, shit! Now I’ve upset her more with my stupid words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I’m really sorry, Cass. I’ve handled this so badly. I just wasn’t sure how to tell you I’d changed my mind.”
A few moments of uncomfortable silence passes, then she turns fully to me in the dim light and her stiff back eases slightly.
“Fine. I get it’s what you think you need to do but I don't understand why?”
I hold her gaze even though it hurts to see the pain in her eyes and whisper, "I need to be the man my dad wanted me to be."
She reaches forward taking my face between her hands and kisses me. A deep soul-wrenching kiss.
This girl is way too good for me.
Two weeks later to the day and I’m sitting on a Greyhound bus on my way to Georgia. Standing on the sidewalk, a little distance away from the bus, is Cassie. Her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Her arms wrapped around her slim body. I force myself to watch her as the bus pulls away. I need to see the pain I've caused her even if it feels like my heart is being ripped out.
I never wanted to do this to her, and I wish more than anything I could have fitted into the story of our life, the one Cassie wanted. But I can’t. Not at this point.
Continuing to stare out the foggy bus window till she disappears, I hope one day I can be everything Cassie wants me to be.
Chapter 4
Luke
The Present
Thankfuckit’sFriday.I’m in a particularly shitty mood today.
My dark mood can be traced back to earlier this morning when I overheard a guy call me “icehole.”He was talking to Bec, the office executive assistant, and I know listening in on other people’s conversation rarely ends well, but it pissed me off to hear the douchebag refer to me by the nickname.
For fuck’s sake, he's only a junior temp from an agency, filling in for Doug, who is on leave. Not even one of our permanent employees. I don’t like being disrespected, and I’ll be making sure that asshole doesn’t come back. Kudos to Bec, though, who handled it well and wasn’t putting up with any of the guy’s shit.
Bec truly is one of the best assistants any office could have. She can handle any crisis without raising a sweat. Her superpower is being able to handle some of our most difficult, arrogant, entitled clients. And there are certainly plenty of those in this business. But most importantly, she manages all the shit going on in the office, so Blake and I don’t have to. Today was only one more example of her fantastic people skills.
I’ve known for a while now my staff call me ‘icehole’behind my back. I don’t need my staff to be my friends, I tell myself. Usually, I own my nickname, as being a cold, hard ass doesn’t bother me. My therapist said freezing people out was my coping mechanism, and I agree with her. It unquestionably carried me through four years in the Ranger Regiment and three tours of duty in Afghanistan. Well, two and a half tours, really.
The last one all turned to shit when my team, out on a night mission, was ambushed by the Taliban and shot to hell. Two of my friends ended up returning home in body bags.
I got lucky, I guess, with a two-month stay in a hospital bed in Germany followed by months of rehab stateside. The whole experience did a serious number on me.
