Page 70 of The Wrong Drive-
I lean back in the seat, clicking the belt in place. “I don’t know. I thought I was pretty weak minded. It took me a long time to figure out I just needed a different mental outlook.”
“Yeah, you needed an ass kicking is what you needed, Martin,” he snorts. “And I have to admit it felt good to be the one to give it to you.”
I chuckle, gazing out the window at the snow-covered ground. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“Meh, water under the bridge, as I always say,” Bradford grins, rolling down the window enough to suck the smoke from the cab. The diesel engine roars as he stomps the gas, flooding the road behind us with a puff of black coal. “I always hoped you’d call.”
“Just ten years late,” I laugh, tipping my head back. “Sorry about that.”
“Nah, it’s never too late. You had to find your reason. You didn’t have it until Em. She’s a catch.”
“I know,” I agree, smiling to myself as I think back to my wife, staying cozy and warm in the cabin. “Hopefully, this’ll be a quick one.”
“It’s always quick when you’re behind the gun, Trigger.”
“Yep.” I lean my head back, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths as I run through my mental checklist. My rifle is tucked away safely in my duffle bag, freshly cleaned, and ready to go on another mission. All the rest of my gear never leaves the bag. My hands sweat with anticipation, and I grin to myself.
As it turns out, I get to have my cake and eat it, too. I get the girl, the picket fence,andthe fun.
I just had to be taught how to make friends with my monster.
Extended Epilogue
Six years later…
“C-c-cat.”
“Very good,” I say as I smile into my daughter’s mesmerizing green eyes. They are just as entrancing as her mother’s. I’m sure she’s going to be a knockout when she grows up, and for that…
I amnotready.
“I-in th-the,” Emily continues trying to sound out the words, her little first reader book resting on her lap. “Dada, I’m tired of this.” She pooches out her bottom lip and stares up at me.
I open my mouth to encourage her to keep going, but before I can, TJ, the newest member of the Martin family, bursts into a fit of crying. It comes through the monitor on the table as well as from his room. My heart rate spikes at the sound, and the urge to run to him is almost overwhelming.
Emily pokes her fingers into her ears. “Why does he always cry?”
I let out a chuckle and plant a kiss on the top of her head. “Because he’s a baby, and that’s what they do. They cry.”
She sighs and then perks up. “Does this mean I get to stop reading?”
“We’ll see,” I say, heading for the bassinet in the bedroom. As I slip into the master bedroom, I hear Em in the shower—doing one of thoseeverythingshower’s that she swears she needs.
Whatever makes her happy.
“Turner!” It’s as if she can feel my presence through the bathroom’s closed door. “Get TJ! Don’t you hear him crying?”
I smirk, chuckling instead of getting offended. “Already on it, honey.” I lean over the small crib, already seeing TJ frantically kicking and punching the air like he’s trying to break out of an invisible bubble.
“You’re a mess, little man. Just like me.” I smile as I scoop him up into my arms, suddenly wondering what my parents would think of the life that I’ve built. I swallow the grief that threatens to slip in. None of my family—my parents nor my brothers—get to be a part of this.
And it fucking sucks.
But I suppress it, knowing that I can’t change what’s already happened. It’s up to me to carry on the Martin legacy, and I’m going to do my damnedest to do it well.
I glance down at the baby in my arms, still squirming angrily. There’s something reverent and somewhat terrifying about having a baby, holding a little soul that’s so fragile with hands that have caused more death than I’d like to admit.
This whole thing is a privilege I don’t really deserve, but I’m grateful for.
