Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
While his response makes everything sit lighter on my chest, it doesn’t make the worry go away completely. “Can … you not say anything to the family? You know they’ll make it a huge deal when it really isn’t. If there was even a possibility of a future with Kit and Prescott, I’d be more tempted, but as it stands, seeing them once a year is killing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. Plus, I don’t even know if they’d want a relationship with me. Sometimes it feels like it’s impossible for us to walk away from each other. Other times I’m convinced I’m their toy to play with as an excuse for them to cross the friendship boundary and have sex.”
And now it’s Uncle Damon’s turn to screw up his face. “What kind of names are Prescott and Kit? And how old are they again?”
I stand. “Is that my cubicle phone ringing? Work calls.”
Uncle Damon grabs my wrist and pulls me back down. “Spill.”
“They’re total dude bros because they’re navy SEALs—well, one’s still a SEAL, the other works for the Pentagon. Oh, wait … I might not be able to tell you that. They do top secret government agency type shit.”
“They’re … how old?” he asks again.
“They’re, like, nine or ten years older. The age gap is nothing. It’s the same between Uncle Jet and Uncle Soren.”
Uncle Damon rubs his chin. “I know I’m not allowed to tell your parents anything, but can I please tell Maddox? You have no idea how proud he would be of you for pulling SEALs. Damn, even I’m impressed.”
“Can Uncle Maddox keep a secret?” I ask.
“True story for you: Maddox knew your dads were hooking up before anyone else on this planet. He never said a word. Not even to me.”
“Then yes, you can tell him. Though, it’s really, really weird that you’re applauding my sexploits. What kind of uncle are you? Oh, the dirty, dirty kind that—”
“Now who’s being weird? Don’t make it weird, Brady.”
I laugh.
“Oh, and one more thing …”
“Get back to work?”
He pats my head. “I’ve trained you well.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
kit
Working at the Pentagon as a civilian isn’t everything I’d hoped it would be. I have less security clearance but a lot more money. I don’t think the trade-off is really worth it.
Still, every morning when I clear security and head inside, I still get that special ops zing in my veins. Which is stupid because I’m merely a pencil pusher now. “Leader of training operations” sounds like an important job, but it’s not. Not really. It’s a necessary job, but it mainly consists of approving training drills, equipment, and any other training resources for special ops forces in the military.
Before, I was being informed of military operations going on in the real world, and now I’m in charge of fake situations and approving training modules.
Do I regret it? Maybe a little bit. Will I admit that? Not while Jimmy Prescott is alive. I won’t give him the satisfaction of being right.
I reach my office in my own little corner of the Pentagon and groan at the pile of applications on my desk. I know that having served in the navy, I might be biased, but for fuck’s sake, the army is a needy little wench. If their soldiers really need that much training, maybe they should look at their training techniques. Hell, send ’em all to BUD/s training and see how long they last.
I quit my internal bitching and get to work, only to be interrupted a couple of minutes later by a knock on my open doorway.
When I glance up from my desk, the warmest set of brown eyes meets me, and I’m convinced I’m having a delusional dream. I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since New York, but it’s only been a month.
“Pres? What are you doing here?” I blink, thinking he’ll disappear any minute.
“You don’t know? You approved this stupid training swap operation.”
“Training swap—oh, where you swap with SEAL Team Ten for a training op to see how the different coasts do it?”
“That’s the one. I half wondered if you suggested Team Three for the swap so you’d get to see me, but you wouldn’t be so cruel as to send me to the East Coast, would you?”
“Hey, if I had that kind of pull, I definitely would have. Unfortunately, I don’t get much of a say anymore. Just have to file the paperwork.”
He looks around my tiny office. “You really are moving backward in the world. Didn’t you used to report to command central?”
“Yeah, but having that much space to think was too difficult. I like closed-in walls that try to suffocate me.”
Prescott smiles. “You available to catch up for a drink when we get back? We’re heading out tonight. I assume we’ll only be gone a couple of days.”