Page 3 of No Sweet Goodbyes

Emma: Linc… They’re at it again. Bee is here with me. Can you call it in like you’re driving by or something so I can take care of Bee?

Linc: I got it. Take care of her. I’ll handle them.

Sighing, I put my phone away and go back to work, distracting Bee from everything terrible the world feels like throwing at her.

“Tell me a secret, Emma.” Bee sits across the kitchen table from me while I put away all the groceries and junk I got at the store earlier. “Something nice.”

I look up from the bag of marshmallows I’ve been contemplating tearing into and see the tension in her eyes. The fear that her world is going to fall down around her ears and there’s nothing she can do about it.

It’s too much for a seven-year-old, that’s for sure. Swallowing down the sudden rock in my throat, I shut the pantry door and lean against it while I press my lips together in thought.

“Did you know…” I trail off, trying to come up with something. Bee stares at me like I’m about to answer all of life’s greatest questions, and I can’t let her down. Not with all the crap she has going on at home. “Oh.” I snap my fingers together in triumph, because who else should I let in on my deepest secret besides her? “Do you know what I’m training for? With the running and the working out, even though I hate it? I haven’t told anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to know.”

Bee shakes her head, her pigtails dancing on air with the movement. Her eyes light up with the excitement of a shared secret.

I step away from the wall, moving until I’m standing right next to her, and then I lean down so that we are face-to-face. “I want to make a difference,” I tell her quietly, even though there is no one else in the house to hear our conversation. “I want to do something for all the people in the world who don’t have anyone they can call for help. The ones who don’t trust the people coming to help them right now.”

Bee’s eyes, still bright with the excitement of what I’m telling her, start to fade slightly as her mind begins to process what I’m telling her.

“I’m going to train to be a police officer, Bee.” The smile and relief I feel for telling another person my secret vanishes the instant I see her shoulders slump. “Hey.” I pull her into my arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. “What’s wrong, little bee?”

Bee cries against my chest, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s wrong. What I said that broke her heart.

When she pulls away after what feels like forever, her face is red and her eyes swollen. Her sobs fade into hiccups and she stares at me like I’ve just stolen all her candy on Halloween.

“If you leave, who’s going to protect me from Daddy?”

2

DOM

I can’t stop thinking about the way Emma Hayes stared at that plate of tacos.

I want her to stare at me that way.

My dick needs her to stare at me that way, even if I know I can’t have her.

The duffel I grabbed from my truck hits the floor in my living room with a loud thud, and I don’t even care enough to wince at the expensive gear that may have been damaged.

“I see training went well.” My little sister sticks her head out of the kitchen and stares at me with a fierce expression on her face.

“A month, Vi.” I rake a still-dirty hand over my face. “I was supposed to be gone for two weeks. That’s what the fuckin’ contract I signed says. One weekend a month and two weeks a year. That’s it. I never should have gone reserve when I finished active duty.”

Violet rubs her hands on the apron she stole from my hall closet at some point while she stayed at my house. “I mean, what did you expect, hermano? The Marines don’t give a fig that you have a life to live.” She leans against the hall wall, not pushing for a hug or anything else, just giving me time, like she always does. “What happened?”

“They’re giving me two weeks,” I tell her honestly, not seeing a reason to keep it to myself. I do keep the classified shit out of my conversation, though. “There was an accident, and they need someone like me over there to handle it.”

The accident being an insurgent attack. And someone like me being a counter-sniper. I’m lucky they’re giving me two weeks to get my shit together at all, to be honest. They could have given me a week. Or a day.

She’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that I can see the wheels turning in my little sister’s head as she processes the vague explanation I’ve given her, trying to figure out exactly what I’ll be doing based on the news lately. I see it all happen, until she decides to leave it alone and just lets me slide by.

“I made food,” she offers before turning back to the kitchen. “You can wash up and then eat, and then you can tell Mom that you’re going overseas again.”

“Mom knows,” I tell Vi. “I went there first and let her know what was happening.”

Vi nods and then waves me off, which I’m thankful for. Mostly because I don’t have to explain to her that I partly went there to see Emma.

I stand in the shower for what feels like an hour, letting the hot water do its best to get rid of the dirt and grime that’s burned into my skin. My phone sits on the back of the toilet, blasting music that I’ll never own up to listening to. But as the strains of Citizen Soldier echo against my bathroom walls, all I can think about is Emma’s face when I tried to get her to talk to me.

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