Page 81 of Open Secrets
There’s a silhouette at the dining table, sitting perfectly still. My hand flies to my chest. “Jesus.”
The shape shifts, light catching her face.
Maria.
Sitting in the dark like a damn ghost, her eyes fixed on me, unblinking.
“You scared me,” I breathe, letting my keys clatter to the counter.
She doesn’t answer—just pushes a foil-covered plate across the table toward me. “Maura made spaghetti with meatballs. I brought you some.”
Of course. Maura—the woman who keeps the kids after school and makes them dinner on the nights I’m deployed… usually.
I nod, throat tight, and head for the sink. Splash some water on my face, rubbing hard like I can scrub the worry out of my skin. Normally, I’d duck into the bathroom for this, but I can tell Maria didn’t wait up because she missed me.
When I sit down and peel back the foil, steam curls up. I glance at Maria, grateful, she reheated my food while I was parked outside, having a midlife crisis in the car.
I take a bite, chew, swallow, then force the words out. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes flick to mine, steady, unreadable. “Why?”
I set my fork down. “For avoiding you. For being…”
“Prissy,” she supplies.
A small huff of a laugh escapes me. “Yeah. That.”
She doesn’t push. Just nods toward the plate. “Finish your food.”
So I do. I eat while she moves to the kitchen, the soft clinking of dishes filling the silence. When I’m done, I bring my plate overand wash it by hand. She dries, like it’s the most natural routine in the world.
I lean on the counter, shaking my head. “I’ve come at this every which way possible, Maria. Short of begging Collins to ignore it, I can’t…” My voice breaks, so I swallow hard, staring at the drain like it might give me an answer. “I can’t see a way out.”
My chest shudders, air catching. Then—her arms slide around me, soft and firm at once, her cheek resting against my shoulder.
“What’s the worst-case scenario?” she murmurs, kissing my shoulder lightly. “In your head. What’s the worst that can happen?”
I close my eyes, letting it spill. “Collins decides to give me a general discharge. I lose my benefits, any shot at getting another job, we lose the house. And you…” My throat knots. “…you finally realize what a moron you married.”
I don’t add the last part—the one that haunts me most. That once again, just like when Rain got sick, I’ll be completely useless. A uniform without a mission. A man without a role.
For a second, I almost wish she’d scream. Slam something. Anything. At least then I’d know where the floor is.
Instead, she just stands there—quiet, still, waiting.
And that’s worse.
I clear my throat, my voice rough. “You quiet ’cause you’re finally done with my shit?”
Maria shakes her head slowly, then steps back. “No. I’m quiet because I’m trying to come up with a way to say this—” Her hand smacks against my shoulder, sharp enough to sting. “—you’re a moron.”
“Huh?” I blink at her, thrown.
She jabs a finger toward my chest, then points at her own. “Now is not the time for you to pull away and disappear in your head. We—” She pokes her finger harder into my chest. “—have to come together to fix this mess. Because, honey… that’s all we have.”
Her voice shakes, but her eyes don’t.
“And yes,” she goes on, “we could lose the insurance, the pension, all the shiny little perks. But you won’t lose your memories. You’ll still be a great soldier—the one who protected his country, even when it cost him his teammates. You’ll still be the man who provided a home, who kept us safe, who gave our kids a father worth looking up to. It’ll be horrible, the kids finding out but everyone else, they already know, the secret is out baby. Command may not know it, but everyone else already suspects.”
