Page 28 of Open Secrets
“Hey,” I snap, leaning forward. “You didn’t do it alone. It was our choice. Just as much me as you.”
Her laugh is sharp, hollow. “Yeah, but no one blames you. I’m the whore. The murderer. You’re just the poor guy.”
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
She wipes at her face, quick, angry. “When did you tell her? Was it after you fucked her? A little pillow talk?”
“No!” My voice is too loud. I rein it in, lower, steady. “After that one time—when we were broken up—I never touched her again. She doesn’t even see me like that anymore.”
Maria scoffs, bitter, jagged
“She doesn’t,” I press, desperation creeping into my voice.
She shakes her head, her laugh sharp. “You’re an idiot.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “We were friends, Maria. That’s it. She’d send care packages, stupid little things, and I introduced her to a buddy of mine—they were dating for a while. We became friends.”
“Friends,” Maria repeats, raising her brows like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “If I became friends with someone I’d fucked, you’d have a coronary.”
I nod once, grim. “I realize that now. We’re not—we don’t talk anymore.”
Her words cut, low. “But you did. When you told her. When she told your mom. When my dad found out.”
I drop my head into my hands. “God. If I could go back, I’d never have told her. Not ever.”
She whispers, broken. “But you can’t.”
Lyle – Five Years Ago Fort Liberty, North Carolina. 2020
“Congrats, First Lieutenant!”
The voice came from behind me, sharp and familiar. I turned just in time for Bethany to fling herself into my arms. My body caught her on instinct, muscle memory from years ago. Her perfume hit me first—sweet, overdone, the kind that stuck.
“Bethany,” I laughed, surprised. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Had a church thing,” she said, smiling too wide. “Figured I’d congratulate you too.”
I set her down and took half a step back. “Thanks.”
First Lieutenant. It wasn’t general, not colonel—nothing shiny like Dad ever dreamed about for me. But it was something. A new bar on my uniform, a signal that I’d earned my place. In plain English? I wasn’t just following orders anymore. I was giving them. Running men. Keeping them alive. Responsibility, respect—the kind that used to make Dad clap me on the shoulder, hard enough to sting.
Bethany’s eyes swept me up and down like she was cataloguing the change. “Hey,” she said, playful, “you got time? Want to grab a drink next door?”
I hesitated, glanced around. Soldiers streamed past, some saluting, some just nodding. No one here knew the history written all over her face. No one saw the landmine I was stepping on.
“Yeah,” I said finally, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I could go for an hour.”
We ended up at the diner just off base. Bethany ordered some iced monstrosity topped with caramel drizzle. I ordered my usual—coffee, black, no room for cream.
“So,” she said, stirring her drink. “How do you feel? Your dad must be proud.”
I let out a breath, leaning back in the booth. “Feels pretty damn good. And Dad… well, you know my dad.”
Her hand slid across the counter, squeezing mine once. Too familiar. “I do know.”
I squeezed back quickly, then pulled away, wrapping both hands around my mug. The ceramic was hot enough to bite my skin, and I let it.
“Now I just wish that transfer would come through before I deploy,” I muttered, more to the coffee than to her.
