Page 5 of All The Way Under
Even Bronwyn, my biggest fan and cheerleader, is concerned, though it would be suspect if no one cared at all, I suppose. I’ll prove them all wrong. I must. It’s going to change my life completely. It will fulfill me in a way that nothing else can. And if it doesn’t, I can at least say I tried before I throw in the towel and become Bianca 2.0.
CHAPTER TWO
brody
“I supposeI should say hello, but I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” I chide when my twin brother scoots into the booth in front of me. “You’re late,” I add, raising one brow.
Nolan smiles.
“By two minutes, Brody. Late by two minutes. I was wrapping up at a job site and was training a new kid.” He shakes his head. “You’re in true curmudgeon fashion today. Is it normal cynical, ill-tempered disdain, or did something happen at work that you want to tell me about?”
Typical Nolan. Kind and good-natured in the face of evil. We’ve always been opposites.
“I mean, it’s my usual pessimistic sarcasm, though I wash it with a little love because you’re my brother. Why are you training the new guys?” I ask.
He’s an electrician, and business is booming. Straight out of high school, he went to trade school for it, and I thought he was crazy. I marked him as less than for pursuing a trade instead of college, like me. Now, he owns his own company and makes more money than anyone we know who went to college. I feel like no one talks about that enough.
Nolan runs a hand through his longish, rogue, wavy hair. Hair I can’t have in the Navy. It’s not to standard. Mine is clipped close with a few motley inches on top.
“I’m the boss, Brody. I want to make sure they’re doing things the correct way. My name is on the line. Literally.” He sighs, then flags the waitress when she passes by.
We order drinks and the same lunch we always order: two burgers, medium rare, extra cheese, with a side of BBQ sauce for our fries. She taps her pen on the receipt and nods before she leaves for the kitchen.
“We’re opening the fourth location this year. It’s more important now than ever before that our quality is the same across the board. I have to have my touch on everything, including the new guys.”
I nod. “That makes sense.” I sip the water the waitress just dropped off. “I’m on alert right now,” I say, exhaling, changing the subject to my work.
“That means you could deploy at any given moment, right? You have to be within a certain mile limit from the base?” Nolan asks, even though he knows he’s right.
He’s a good listener. Way better than I am. I’d say it’s something I’ve been working on, but I just don’t care, nor does anyone in my life dictate I have to.
“Yep. I had dinner with Mom and Dad yesterday, and we said our goodbyes. They never get used to me leaving,” I say. “It’s been seven years, and they still act like it’s the first time I deploy every time.”
I mentally cringe thinking about how sad they get. It’s awkward and makes me nervous and uneasy. I have no clue how to handle that from people who have loved me my entire life.
“Just because it’s not the first deployment doesn’t mean the outcome will always be the same. That’s why it makes them nervous. Hell, it’s why it makes me scared, and I’ve been dealingwith your daredevil personality my whole life. You coming home safe all the times before doesn’t guarantee you will come home safe this time.”
Nolan looks away, but I know what he’s feeling. I’ve always known what he’s feeling. We have an extra sense when it comes to our connection. It’s almost as if it’s a type of telepathy. We leaned into that when we were kids and tried to distance ourselves from it when we were teenagers. Somehow, now that we’re adults, we’ve circled back to appreciating the twin connection.
“Nolan.” I say his name to get his attention. “I’m going to come back, okay. I’m too fucking mean and nasty to die. You know this. It’s always the good men who don’t come back, the ones who people only have wonderful things to say about them. What’s that saying? Only the good die young? The bastards live forever.” I smile, happy with my analogy.
I’m a bastard. That’s the way the scales tipped the second we were born. Nolan was good, and I was not. I cried more. I needed to be tended to first. My ballad of discontent was the loudest.
Nolan doesn’t crack a grin. “You play a bastard as armor. You aren’t a bad guy. You’re not fooling anyone. Well, maybe you are fooling some people, but you don’t fool me. You are one of the good ones. We will always worry, brother. We love you.”
My chest tightens.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. It’s fine. I’m going to be fine.”
Nolan cuts me off with a headshake as our food arrives.
“Repeat after me. I love you and will miss you too,” he says, tone slow and monotone, like he’s trying to get a baby to pronounce the words correctly.
Rolling my eyes, I dig into my meal.
“Right back at you,” I whisper around a bite.
I hate emotions. It doesn’t make sense because my brother and I were raised in a loving home by the same compassionate, nurturing parents. He obviously soaked it in, and I’m made of nonporous lead. Nothing enters. Nothing exits.
