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“Thanks.”
“Where’d you serve?” He sat down as if we were old friends.
“Afghanistan. Kandahar.”
“Iraq.” He offered me a hand and I shook it.
We talked for a moment until my dad pulled up and I had to go. It was funny. It seemed like I’d be eager to talk to people who knew where I was coming from. This soldier had seen similar things, witnessed similar horrors, and yet I didn’t feel comfortable around him. There was a posturing involved in military relationships, at least for me. No matter how much shit I saw, no matter how many people I rescued or enemies I killed, I felt like I didn’t belong. Other people were putting their lives on the line, but me? I was just along for the ride.
I felt like the same little kid trying to run away from home, never good enough, always searching for what he wanted to be. With my friends back in Singer’s Ridge, with Porter and Danny, and especially Aly, I didn’t feel that way. Conversation came naturally. They didn’t see me as Lincoln the soldier. They saw me as Lincoln the person.
I couldn’t wait to get home and put this whole trip to the VA behind me. “What did you do while I was in there?” I asked my dad as he powered up the truck and moved away from the curb.
“I stopped in to talk to the bank,” he answered.
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He swung right, maneuvering through the city on his way to the highway on-ramp. “Just wanted to check on the loan.”
“For the business?”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell, and I wondered if I should bring up the medal.
Dad beat me to it. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “I didn’t qualify for as many benefits as I hoped.”
“What did they offer?”
“Tuition assistance. Free college at a state university. Health insurance.”
“That’s not terrible.”
I exhaled, settling back in my seat. “I was hoping for some cash.”
Dad grinned. “Aren’t we all?”
“Yeah, but…” I trailed off. I wanted to explain how dangerous my job had been, how many friends and colleagues hadn’t made it back home. There should be some compensation for that kind of work beyond a handshake and a medal.
Dad seemed to understand where I was going. “We should write to our congressman.”
I let the matter drop. Staring out the window, I watched as the trees flew by. We were on the interstate, just a few minutes from home. It was only noon, so I asked him to drop me off at work. I didn’t want to just hang around Mrs. Washington’s basement watching television. I did enough of that at night.
Dad obliged, pulling into the lumberyard during my usual lunchbreak. I hadn’t packed anything but didn’t want to bother anyone with that technicality. I figured I would just work through lunch and eat when I got home. I stuffed my medal into my back pocket along with my phone and left the printout in Dad’s truck.
14
ALY
Icouldn’t keep my thoughts pure. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot in the morning, my brain offered up a play-by-play of our passionate groping on Thursday night. I looked for Linc as I walked to the office but didn’t see him. That wasn’t uncommon.
I found myself humming as I typed out responses to customer emails. Far from putting me off, Gina’s questions had just fueled my need to get closer to Lincoln. He was as much of a mystery now as he had been in high school, only now I had caught his eye. I was looking forward to our next encounter. I couldn’t keep our activities above the belt for very long. If neither of us had a change of heart, we were likely to find ourselves in bed—or at the very least in the back seat.
Thinking of that, I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. It was bad enough that we had parked in the customer lot. If we had actually had sex in the lumberyard, I would never be able to concentrate at work again.
I looked at my phone, realizing that I didn’t have Linc’s number. I would never be able to booty call him without it. It was time to remedy the situation. But how was I going to work that intoa conversation?Since I was grinding on top of you last night, would you mind giving me your phone number?
