Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Those simple, short, bold words were said out of lips that I adored.
“You can try to make us.”
Sean’s eyes turned to a smartass girl standing on the edge of the crowd. He was so calm, that I wondered if the other shoe was going to drop.
“Let me see. Delaney, right?”
The girl looked startled.
“Isn’t your brother in the Marines?”
Delaney looked startled that Sean would know that.
“N-no.”
Sean smiled; it wasn’t a pretty smile, either.
In fact, it was quite intimidating.
Which was felt by some of the other protesters because they all took a few steps back and looked around nervously. There had to be at least fifty of them, and every single one of them was watching Sean like he was a freakin’ army instead of a single man.
“I was there when he came home from his last deployment. Part of his welcome home party, actually. I know who your brother is, and I know who you are.” He frowned at the girl. “Though, I thought your parents raised you better than this.”
Sean’s head turned. “And you.”
He pointed at the boy who had passed her the lighter.
“Isn’t your mother retired from the Army?”
And so it went.
I was so surprised by the number of people Sean knew that I wasn’t paying attention to the kid on the ground who Brady had struck until he was up on his knees. He was swinging a stick that he’d found right at my man who didn’t notice until it was too late.
The stick hit Sean in the back of the thigh, missing his knee by only a few scant inches.
The stick broke over the back of Sean’s leg, and the reaction it drew from Sean was that he staggered forward slightly, trying to avoid stepping further into the crowd of protesters any more than he already was.
The crowd went silent, and I started toward Sean to make sure that he was all right, but Brady grabbed my arm before I could even make it a step.
“Sean!” I cried out.
Sean looked down at the kid, then reached forward and picked him up by the collar of his shirt.
And by up, I mean the kid was dangling above the ground, the tips of his sneaker covered toes just barely grazing it.
“I served my country for years,” he announced to the stupid kid. “I watched two of my best friends in the whole world die by rifle fire during an attack on our unit. Held their hands while blood pumped out of their chests, as they cried and asked me to tell their wives and kids that they loved them. To tell their mothers that they were sorry. Tell their fathers that they would miss throwing the ball around on Christmas.”
My throat constricted.
“I watched a female soldier being cut down from a tree where she tried to hang herself because she couldn’t live with the aftermath of killing women and children who were committing acts of war against us. When she tried again, and succeeded, I watched the medics clean up pieces of her head from where she used a gun to commit suicide because she couldn’t deal with the ghosts in her head or the way she always felt fucking dirty,” he continued to growl. “My father fought for that flag. My grandfather, too. And his father before him. So, let me tell you something, you little entitled son of a bitch, this country doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing except fucking jail time. It should be a felony to burn this flag, but I fought for your fucking rights, so of course, you’ll never see it. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve it.”
With that, Sean threw the kid to the ground, and the crowd sucked in a swift inhalation of breath as Sean turned, pointed at them all in turn, and gave them his back as he walked toward us.
Brady had a smile on his face the size of which I’d never seen before, and pride was practically bursting from my chest at seeing my man’s show of strength and pride in his country.
“You’re so hot,” I told him.
Sean’s face cracked into a small smile. One that was gone almost before it was even there. One that didn’t reach his eyes.
But it was a start and that was all that mattered.
“Good man,” Brady said to Sean.
Sean’s answering reply was harsh, but nonetheless true.
“I’m fucking sick of this. This country is raising a bunch of pussies, and it keeps getting worse and worse.”
I agreed, but the only thing I could change was how I raised my own kids to deal with whatever was happening with this country.
“You’ll have to start with your own kids,” I told him honestly. “Because you can’t start with any that aren’t yours. They’ve already been ruined by their parents’ beliefs and bad upbringings.”