Page 47 of Free

Nell’s enthusiasm doesn’t waver. “I already did a project on Daddy last year. This year, I wanted to interview someone…” She pauses, looking up at me with earnest eyes. “Someone inspiring. And that’s you.”

The words catch me off guard. Inspiring? Me? That doesn’t track. But Nell’s sincerity doesn’t leave much room for doubt, and the thought tugs at something deep in my chest.

“Did your mom put you up to this?” I tease, crouching to her level to get a better read on her.

Nell gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like I’ve accused her of treason. “Cross my heart, Uncle Nick! This was all my idea.”

Her over-the-top reaction pulls a laugh out of me. She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the house, chattering about her project, her soccer team, and the outrageous injustice of her bedtime. The second we step inside, the smell of fresh-baked cookies mingles with the faintest hint of baby lotion, and the sound of Jeremiah’s squeals fills the air.

Micah and Ivy are on the floor with him, cheering as he toddles around on unsteady legs. Micah grins up at me, while Ivy waves. Jeremiah wobbles my way, grinning as I kneel to catch him. His tiny hands grab my face, his giggles pure sunshine. Kids, man. They’re dangerous like that.

“This is really good of you, Nick,” Ivy says softly as she stands, brushing stray flour from her shirt. There’s warmth in her tone, but no pity. She knows how hard this might be, but she’s too kind to say it outright.

Micah claps me on the shoulder. “Apparently, good ol’ Dad isn’t cool enough anymore,” he says, mock-wounded.

Nell rolls her eyes—a gesture that feels a few years too old for her. “You’ll always be the best dad, Daddy. But Uncle Nick is… well, Uncle Nick. And everyone deserves a turn.”

Micah and Ivy laugh, and Nell grabs my hand, pulling me upstairs with more force than her small frame should allow. We step into her room, and I’m immediately struck by howherit is—superhero posters, soccer trophies, and books piled on a desk. No princesses or glitter in sight.

“You can sit on my bed,” she says, pointing to the comic book-themed quilt. “Unless you want the chair, but it’s kinda small.”

“The bed’s perfect.” I sit, and Nell takes her spot at the desk, opening her school-issued laptop like she’s about to interview a world leader.

“Okay,” she begins, fingers poised over the keyboard. “What was it like being a Marine? Did you get to drive tanks or shoot bad guys? Like, superhero stuff?”

I laugh. “No tanks for me, but I got to ride in one once. And, yeah, I shot guns. But superheroes? No capes, no superpowers. I didn’t save the world or anything.”

She tilts her head, clearly unimpressed by my humility. “You didn’t need a cape. You saved lives. That’s a fact.”

Her unwavering confidence in me stirs something I don’t want to examine too closely. “Thanks, kiddo,” I say, my voice softer than I intended.

She dives into more questions—fun ones. The pranks we pulled, the nicknames we gave each other, the places I got to see. I tell her about the time a buddy and I got locked inside a supply room, and we had to MacGyver our way out. I tell her about eating MREs for weeks straight, and how much I missed real food.

Then, Nell’s expression turns serious. “What did you miss the most when you were away?”

The question catches me off guard. For a second, the words won’t come. “Family,” I finally say, though the truth is heavier than that. I missed Charlie, too. Missed her more than I ever let myself admit. She was my constant thought, my anchor. Every letter, every call, every memory was like a lifeline.

“And that’s what I missed when I was home, too,” I add, my voice quieter now. “There’s a real sense of brotherhood in the military. You know how you can always count on your mom and dad to have your back? That’s how I felt about my friends. When I was with them, I missed you guys. When I was home, I missed them.”

Nell types quickly, her brow furrowed. “What about when you stopped being a Marine? Was that hard?”

I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. It still is. When I was in the Marines, everything had a purpose. Now, well…” I trail off, trying to find the right comparison. “You know how every day you go to school, and you have to do your homework, even though it’s boring and you don’t know why you need to know all that math?”

Nell’s eyes widen in understanding. “Every day, Uncle Nick.Everyday.”

“Yeah,” I say with a soft chuckle. “Well, that’s kind of how I feel now. When I was a Marine, I had a reason for everything I did. Now, it just feels like I’m doing a lot of math homework and I don’t know why.”

For a long moment, I stare at her as she types, my mind drifting to the man I used to be. Before the accident. Before I lost my team. Before I losther. I think about Charlie, about the words I never said, the apology that feels too little, too late. And I wonder if I’ve been lying to myself all along. If pushing her away wasn’t about protecting her, but protecting me from what it might mean to really let her in.

Nell’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’re still a Marine, you know. Even if you don’t wear the uniform anymore.”

The conviction in her voice stuns me. I want to argue, but I can’t. Not when she says it like a fact, as unshakable as gravity.

“Thanks, kiddo,” I murmur.

Charlie’s words from the other day flit through my mind.

You’ve spent your whole life helping people. Your family. Your friends. Your country. I loved you, Nick. And in your weakest moment, I wanted to be there for you, but you wouldn’t let me.

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