Page 30 of Unmade

Oh. Now, why was that disappointing?

“Is she sick or something?” I wondered, biting into my apple.

“That’s one way of putting it.” He made one more note in the binder before closing it. “After these two intro weeks are over, do you have a place to stay?”

I shrugged and chewed. “I have a guest room at my aunt’s place.” And only two fucking ferrets left, so yay. The other two had died of old age. Sadly, Biter wasn’t one of them. “I was kinda hoping to stay here a while longer, though.” Despite the bunk beds.

He waved that off, dismissive. “That’s no problem. You can have my place until the plumbers are happy with the dorms again. Some recruits stay throughout their training, and some don’t wanna be here outside school hours at all.”

I belonged in the former category. It helped me stay focused. In the Army, I’d heard of so many buddies who’d itched to get married so they could move in to a house on base with their spouse, and I’d never seen the appeal. I actually hadn’t minded the barracks, aside from when some assholes couldn’t keep quiet in the middle of the night.

“Did you stay here when you went through your training?” I asked curiously.

He finished the last of his scrambled eggs. “No, I, uh…I crashed with my brother.”

“Oh, right. He’s an operator here too. Is he hiding on some secret floor, or will I get to meet him?”

He blew out a breath and leaned back in his seat, and he folded his arms over his chest. He and Operator Rose had definitely been deprogrammed over the years. Like, they could whip it out if the situation called for it, but just by looking at them, nobody could guess they had military careers in their background.

“He was killed last year.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. “Oh damn. I’m sorry, man.” That fucking sucked. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I won’t ask.” Even though I wondered.

He shook his head and rubbed the side of his neck. “I’m supposed to talk about it. It’s just rough.”

Yeah, no shit. “I get it. Took me a while to open up about my mom.” It’d taken a surprisingly nice NCO to convince me. Plus, remembering Beckett’s advice about talking to my chaplain. “I used to walk around with one of my mom’s collector’s coins from a national park to feel closer to her. I also chucked it at the wall whenever I got mad at her for being dead.” And for lying to me. “It was much easier than talking about her.”

Beckett grinned faintly. “I walk around with a pack of smokes because of my brother. He smoked that brand. I stole maybe one or two here and there but never bought my own. And now I can’t leave the house without the pack.”

I got it. It was the little things that brought comfort when we tried to move on.

I folded a strip of bacon and crammed it into my mouth.

“Hey, did you ever find your dad’s family?”

Aw, man. We didn’t have to talk about that, did we?

“Kinda.” The bacon went down like a lead balloon. “I mean…yeah. Yeah—I know who they are. I just… I haven’t reached out or anything.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why not? I thought that was the point.”

Yeah, well. I cleared my throat. “I don’t wanna stir up problems. They seem like a happy family.”

“Why would it stir up problems? Was your dad married to someone else or something?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of. I mean, he wasn’t married—I would’ve known—but I don’t think he was dating anyone else either. But who knows? What if he was? And I’d go there and introduce myself, and the grieving girlfriend would be like, what the fuck?”

He nodded slowly and picked up his coffee. “Makes sense. On the off chance that your dad had a girlfriend almost twenty-five years ago, it’s best you don’t reach out to your actual family for fear of offending the person who might not exist.”

I shot him a look. That was unnecessary!

He took a swig, mirth flashing in his eyes. Dick. “What information did you get from the Archives? I’m guessing that’s where you got his records.”

Aunt Laura had done most of the work, but yes, the National Archives, with some extra details she’d gotten from another veteran who’d once served with my dad.

“Name, date of birth, rank, service number, medals… His last known address and… Um, his parents—they were listed as next of kin,” I replied. “I looked them up online and found his mother on Facebook, but her account is private. Except, like, I could see comments on her profile picture, which turned me into a stalker of the rest of the family.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’d be curious too. So, who are they? What have you learned?”

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