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)
We had just opened our MREs and were “enjoying” what was a disappointing take on a Christmas feast. Josh held up a spoonful of what looked like beef stew. “Cheers, assholes, Merry fucking Christmas,” he said through a mouthful.
We all snickered and then raised our instant coffee up to each other. “Merry Christmas,” was mumbled all around.
“God!” Eli moaned, leaning his head back. “This is better than my mama’s turkey and gravy!”
“Your mama must cook like shit then,” Leland offered up.
Eli nodded over at him. “Yeah, I gave that one to ya, didn’t I, asswipe? Merry Christmas. Consider that your gift.”
Noah and I both shook our heads, me chuckling softly and Noah smiling. We all ate in relative silence for a minute and I glanced out into the night. Never in a million years did I imagine myself spending Christmas in a cave in the desert in a far-off land. I felt like I was living an alternate life… one almost completely disconnected from my first twenty-three years. It was a good thing because I loved my job, I respected the hell out of the guys I worked with, and I felt a sense of purpose that I never had before. But sometimes, when I had a quiet moment to sit and think about it, it threw me for a small loop.
And it always made me think of Grace.
If you could see me now, what would you think?
I took a bite of fruit, deciding maybe it wasn’t fruit after all. “The first thing I’m gonna do when I get back to the US of A is get myself the biggest, juiciest cheeseburger—maybe two,” I said, setting my fork down.
“First thing I’m gonna do is get myself the biggest, juiciest pussy—maybe two,” Josh said, spooning some rice into his mouth.
Eli made a disgusted sound.
Josh looked over at him. “What? Don’t tell me that just because you’re married, you’re looking forward to getting home to your wife so you can engage her in a good game of checkers?”
Eli chuckled. “No, but I don’t talk about making love to my wife in vulgar terms. You’ll see, intimacy with a woman you’re in love with is the ultimate experience. You have no idea, you sorry fucker.”
Josh was silent for a beat, a horrified expression on his face. “Man. That’s…that’s beautiful. You know, when we get back home, you should think about putting out a book of poetry.”
We all laughed, even Eli, but he finished it with a “fuck you, bro.”
“I just might…pretty mouth on you, all that ‘making love’ talk. We could put on some slow jams, talk about our feelings—”
BOOM! We all startled and went silent, looking around at each other and starting to gesture with our hands and eyes about what moves to make.
Gunfire erupted not too far away and we all dropped our meals and went for our weapons. It was on.
CHAPTER 19
Grace
One year, seven months later, July
“Crap!” I swore, as the bottom dropped out of the box of books I was carrying down the hallway to my new office, the books landing on the carpeted floor with a loud thud.
I put the now-empty cardboard down on the floor, squatted, and started piling the books up so that I could carry them to my desk.
My desk. In my new office. In Las Vegas, Nevada. I still couldn’t believe I was here—in Vegas, again, only this time, not for a law conference, this time starting my new job.
When it had become clear that moving out of the juvenile court in DC was going to be a long time coming, I had started half-heartedly applying to jobs in other cities. I didn’t necessarily expect anything to come of it, but I had been surprised when I had heard back from the DA in Clark County almost immediately. After a lengthy interview process, I was offered the job of a prosecutor in the Clark County Criminal Division, serving Las Vegas. My dream job. Taking a job in Vegas felt…strange. I wasn’t sure how being back in the city where I had spent a life-changing weekend was going to affect me. But I reminded myself that it wasn’t like Carson lived here—he lived in Los Angeles; at least as far as I knew, he still did. But just driving past the Bellagio when I had flown in for my in-person interview caused a swarm of butterflies to take up flight in my stomach. I had to believe that that reaction would fade over time, as, after all, it had been almost five years since that weekend. It was just because it was the first time I had been back and it dredged up the distant memory. That was all. Pretty soon, seeing it enough, it would just be another hotel on the strip.
“Can I help?” a male voice asked and I looked up into a smiling pair of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.