Page 4 of It's Always Been You

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I couldn’t find a single fucking shred of substantiated evidence of their existence, Nate. They’re fucking urban legends of the CIA. Ghosts.” Also probably why they were called specter agents.

“Much like the Delta Force, man. The government once denied they exist,” Nate said. “You’re tight with Admiral Porter. What does he say?”

Benjamin Porter had been one of the high-ranking naval commanders when Travis had been a SEAL. It turned out theadmiral was a top-level recruiter for the CIA Special Activities Division, which was a euphemism for Black Ops.

“He wouldn’t confirm or deny.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nate muttered. “Look, I’ll keep you posted.”

“Nate, watch the embassies.”

“I will. Chances are, if Sarah’s alive, she would hold the same passports.”

If Sarah is alive.

Travis ended the call. His mind was in a daze and he wanted to jump on the next flight out to Berlin. He stared at the stack of résumés before him again.Fuck.

The soundsof pans in the kitchen woke him. Travis was chest down on his bed, his face smashed into a pillow. He looked up at his alarm clock and groaned. It was noon, and the only person who could be in his kitchen was his mom, Lillian Blake. His mom had called him last night to let him know she was dropping by this morning, so he left the alarms off.

Pushing up from the mattress, he stumbled into the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and brushed his teeth. Travis stared at his reflection. His blue eyes were bloodshot, and three days’ worth of stubble outlined his jaw. Throwing on some clothes, he made his way to the kitchen. The smell of bacon hit him. And his stomach actually grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, that is, if one could consider candy bars food. He grimaced when he noticed the empty wrappers had disappeared from the dining table where he had left them. After leaving the office, he came home only to continue pounding away on his laptop until 6:00 a.m.

Lillian Blake was a reed thin, elegant woman of sixty. She was of average height, had pale skin, and chestnut hair.He was a carbon copy of his dad. Travis was slightly taller at six-three, but the dark hair and blue eyes were all Daniel Blake.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Mom.” Travis gave his mom a hug and a peck on the forehead. “You never told me why you wanted to see me this morning.”

“Emily gave me a call last night.” At his scowl, his mom added, “She’s worried about you, Travis. She says you’ve been working too hard, and you’re not eating right.”

“I’m thirty-five years old, Mom.” Travis poured himself some coffee. “I have a company to run, and I can take care of myself.”

“Trav—”

“Emily should stay out of my fucking personal business. She should be thankful I’m keeping her man and her in style.”

“Travis Blake.”

He was careful not to curse whenever Lillian Blake was around because even at his age, his mom could shrivel his balls with just a look and a censuring tone. But sometimes, like right now, he could slip.

“Sorry, Mom. Look, her concern is duly noted,” Travis said to appease her. “Now, is the bacon ready? I’m hungry.”

His mom smiled at him indulgently and fished the bacon from the pan, transferring the strips to a paper-lined plate. “Take the pancakes to the table, sweetie.”

Travis had to admit, as the only sibling on the East Coast, he was the frequent recipient of motherly concern. His sister, Lisa, lived in California with her husband and two kids.

“Have you talked to Lisa lately?” Travis asked to deflect the focus from himself.

“This morning actually,” his mom replied. “We’re both wondering when you’ll meet a nice girl and settle down.”

“Mom—”

“It’s been three years, Travis,” his mom said. “I know youloved Sarah so much. Do you think she would want you to continue grieving for her like this?”

“Mom, I don’t know—“

His mother’s face turned grim. She reached for his laptop at the other end of the table, turned it around to face them, and touched the keys to take it out of hibernation. There, as a screen saver, were pictures of Sarah. Tears suddenly filled his mother’s eyes. “Please, Travis. You’re alive. She’s dead. Don’t do this, son.”

---