Page 69 of Open Secrets
Lyle straightens, calling up the stairs with that parade-ground voice that still makes me jump. “Kids! Grandpa’s here!”
The ceiling shakes instantly with the thundering of feet.
One by one, they all pile out—August barely remembering to grab his backpack, Rain halfway down the steps before she yells,Wait, shoes!—and each of them tosses a lazy “bye” over their shoulders like it costs extra to say it properly.
Lyle just rolls his eyes and follows them out, shaking his head.
I finish packing while he takes longer than necessary outside, saying his goodbyes like he’s moving to another country instead of handing the kids off for a few hours. I throw in a change of clothes for both of us—just in case. Copperas Cove is little more than an hour away, and we both have work tomorrow, but still. Better to be prepared.
Still, I can’t help the creeping thought: this is all going to be a waste of time. My dad will refuse to see me. It’ll just be a wasted trip, another bruise on an already sore spot.
I’m hauling the bags to the front door when Lyle finally comes back in.
“What took so long?” I ask.
He shrugs, casual. “Just talking.”
I nod slowly. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, too quickly. “Everything’s fine.”
But his eyes dart away, and something in the set of his shoulders nags at me. He’s been acting strange since yesterday.
He nods toward the stairs. “I’m gonna get dressed while you finish your coffee.”
I lift the mug from the side table, watching him head up. The floorboards creak under his heavy steps.
Something is up.
Thankfully, we have a road trip for me to find out what’s going on.
Less than thirty minutes later, we’re on the highway. Since it’s Sunday, traffic’s light, the miles slipping by easy. I’m mid-note, belting along with the radio, when Lyle reaches forward and turns the volume down.
“Hey,” I protest.
He gives me a sidelong look. “I have to tell you something.”
I twist my mouth, suspicious. “Do you, or did you just not want to hear my beautiful voice?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “As much as I love your singing, this is serious.”
That pulls me straighter in my seat. “What is it?”
He hesitates, his eyes flicking to me, then back to the road. “Do you remember when we… had that open marriage?”
I deadpan. “I vaguely recall.”
“Well,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t really all that good at it. I mean, I flirted, sure, but I didn’t really—what do the kids call it?—close the deal.”
“Okay…” I draw out, not sure where he’s going.
“Remember when I was on administrative duty in D.C.?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He exhales. “Well, one night—”
Lyle – Three Years Ago – Walter Reed (Washington, D.C.), 2022
