Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Him? He kept pulling on his ear. I didn’t know what it meant. It seemed like a secret signal I wasn’t interpreting.”
“Oh geez,” she moaned.
“Abby! Seriously. Really. Not closed off. The right guy will come along. I’m just waiting for that…certain something. I’ll know it when I find it. When I find him.”
Abby looked at me with narrowed eyes for a second but then took a deep breath and said, “Okay. If you say so.” She threw her napkin and plastic fork inside the Styrofoam container and stood up, carrying it to the trash. “All right, I’m off. See you tonight. I’ll be home about seven. Reservations are at eight.” She grabbed her purse and coat and headed for the door.
“Bye, Abs!” I called. I continued eating my lunch, placing my fork down and pushing it aside after a couple minutes. I took a deep breath, putting my elbows on the counter and resting my face in my hands. A shiver moved over my skin and I raised my head in confusion, the particles in the air almost seeming to change direction, as though something nearby had disrupted them. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to picture Carson’s face. I didn’t let myself linger on the thought of him often, or picture him in my mind’s eye. But for some reason, in that moment, I indulged myself because I felt him so strongly, almost as if he were in the room with me.
After a few minutes, I forced myself to stand up and clean up my lunch, and then I went about my Saturday.
_________
Carson
As I stared out the cab window, watching DC stream by, I rubbed my hand over my short, military-style haircut and I thought of everything I’d been through in the past year and a half. I thought of Hell Week, how I had somehow, impossibly, survived that miserable five days, consisting of the most hellish simulated conditions that would assure the navy that they were sending men into the field that would never quit, no matter how much misery and pain was thrown at them, no matter how delirious they were from lack of sleep. I was one of those men. I was still trying to wrap my own head around that.
Noah Dean and I had helped each other through that week. I didn’t know if I could have done it without his encouragement. Noah told me afterwards that he had gone meal to meal—knowing if he could just survive long enough to make it to the next meal, he’d have that time where he sat in a warm cafeteria with food in front of him before he faced the torturous conditions again. I understood that. But I hadn’t gone meal to meal. I had gone sunrise to sunrise, that bright light breaking over the horizon, the motivation that kept me from giving up. The thought of Grace in my arms spurring me on, even in the midst of the worst physical trial I had ever endured.
Dylan was the first person I had called that Friday afternoon when we were secured and received the brown shirts that meant we had made it through Hell Week. “Not surprised, buddy,” he had said, and I could hear the emotion in his voice. “Not surprised at all.”
I had finished BUD/S twenty-four weeks later, was assigned to SEAL Team Two, went to SEAL Tactical Training, and finally, finally, earned my Trident. I had done it.
And now I was about to deploy overseas on my first assignment. Anything could happen. But first, I was in DC to attend an award ceremony for a former instructor who I respected highly. Me and a few other guys who’d trained under him had flown out to be there for a quick two-day trip, and then I was going to meet back up with my platoon before we all flew out together in about a week.
There was a buzz of anticipation under my skin. Grace was still in DC. When I’d booked the trip, I hadn’t been able to resist looking her up on whitepages.com. I’d found her address but hadn’t been able to find her on social media. I’d wanted to message her and let her know I’d be in town, and more than that, I wanted to tell her that she had inspired me to become a SEAL, that I had accomplished something I was proud of. I didn’t know what her life looked like now, but I wanted to tell her that I still missed her, even after all this time.
Just showing up at her apartment seemed intrusive. What if she lived with a man? What if she just wasn’t interested in seeing me? Still I was here…in the town where she lived. It was like I could practically feel her presence, feel her, somewhere very close by.