Page 32 of Unmade

“So that the inked wings are hugging you,” he murmured. “That’s sweet.”

I broke eye contact again. The way he said it made me feel embarrassed, like I’d revealed too much. I didn’t need to be fucking hugged, man. Whatever.

It was a dumb idea.

I’d gone over six years without a hug, unless I counted the awkward pats on the back I gave Aunt Laura when she greeted me. I was fine. I wasn’t getting a damn tattoo.

Maybe Beckett sensed my discomfort, because he finally let me go. “You should get to class. And think about getting a new watch.” He nodded at mine.

I frowned. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“A desert sand G-shock? Itscreamssoldier and that you wish you were born a few years earlier so you could’ve seen combat.”

I scowled at him. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“Anyone can read an open book, recruit.”

I better fucking close mine, then.

CHAPTER 3

August 7th, 2024

Bo Beckett

Iyawned and sat down with my coffee just as Riggs entered the holy haven of vending machines. It was usually the one room in the basement where we found recruits when they weren’t in class, but right now, I was the only one here. One round table surrounded by wall-to-wall vending machines with candy, chips, coffee, protein snacks, soda, and shitty sandwiches.

“I thought you were done for the day,” he said, walking over to the sandwich machine.

“I’m taking the last of the recruits over to the Towers,” I said. And…I was also curious to find out how target practice had gone. It was the first assessment, so it was more about Danny and Coach determining their skill levels.

Riggs sat down across from me and made a face as he opened his egg and turkey sandwich. “I heard they did well at target practice.”

Most of them. Only three had excelled, though. Leighton and Tanner had been cleared right away, so now they’d need to attend a weekly session for advanced training, which included getting practice with more types of weapons. The weapon of your enemy is one you need to know and all that. Lastly, Miguel Flores, our eldest recruit. But he was to be expected. He was a former Delta and had a lengthy list of skills already. The first seven months of our training year were going to be a walk in the park for him.

“We usually have half the class moving on to the next stage,” I noted.

Riggs shrugged and bit into his sandwich. “We can’t be picky with peacetime generations.”

That much was clear.

“You do know the cafeteria’s still open, right?” I had to put that out there.

He grimaced again. “I’m trying to avoid David. It’s his last day.”

Ah. So that was it, then. The divorce was final, and David was heading off to his new employment in the UK.

“Never get involved with a fellow operator,” he muttered.

Yeah, no. I’d seen it too many times. Fuck that nonsense. I wanted to extend it to, don’t get involved with anyone in the workplace, whether they were operators or not.

“Leighton!” I heard someone holler down the hall.

I took a swig of my coffee and hoped Leighton and his dorm unit arrived soon. It shouldn’t take that long for them to pack up their shit.

I identified the other recruit as Tanner Kelley, and their voices came closer. Tanner was a chatty little shit, already declared the class clown.

“I’m putting you on a list,” he was saying.

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