Page 1 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

Chapter One

Outer Banks, North Carolina

1995

Camille gasped when she opened the door and saw her son standing there. She hadn’t seen or talked to him since he left for the navy five years ago. She barely recognized him. When he left at eighteen, he had been a skinny, gawkish boy. The man who stood before her now bore no resemblance to that boy except for his deep auburn hair that had unfortunately become a constant reminder of his absent father.

Mack had added at least fifty pounds of muscle to his six-foot frame. His once neatly clipped hair was now wildly overgrown. He had an unhealed gash that started at his left eye and zigzagged down his face until it disappeared into his scraggly, unkept beard. Tattoos now sprouted out of every opening of his T-shirt.

“Camille,” Mack said calmly as he walked past her into the house, leaving her standing on the porch, her mouth and eyes gaping.

Camille watched him from the safety of the porch as he unapologetically sat down on her immaculate couch in his filthy clothes. When he was growing up, Camille would have put him over her knee for breaking one of her cardinal rules. That wasn’t going to be possible anymore.

“Are you coming in?” Mack said, his voice an unusual combination of impatience and amusement.

Camille tentatively followed him into the room, making sure to leave the front door open.

“What are you doing here, Mack?” Camille said, trying to keep her voice calm to gain back some control over the situation.

“I’m here to introduce you to your granddaughter.” Mack stood up and walked towards her, slightly unzipping a backpack that was strapped to his chest to reveal an infant’s head.

Camille took a step away from him, holding her hands up to try to shield herself from the news that she was a grandmother. Mack smiled and shook his head. It was about the response he had expected from her. She had never been a big fan of children, especially her own.

Camille had gotten pregnant at sixteen from a one-night stand with a boy who had been vacationing in the Outer Banks with his family. By the time she found out she was pregnant, he was long gone, leaving behind only a fake name and phone number. She had blamed Mack for that his entire life.

Camille walked quickly past Mack into the kitchen, ignoring the news that she was a grandmother. “You look horrible, Mack. Does the navy not make you groom? Or did you get kicked out?”

“I’m still in the navy, Camille.”

“And, the navy allows you to run around looking like that,” she said, waving her hands at him.

“I’m in the special forces. We can look however we want.”

“Dr. Tripp told me you had made it into some special outfit. He wouldn’t quit talking about it, like it was something out of the ordinary.”

Mack didn’t say anything. He’d never had his mother’s approval, and he had stopped seeking it a long time ago. He knew that even becoming a SEAL would not impress her.

Holding the baby, Mack walked over to stand next to Camille. “Camille, this is Millie. Her mother died in childbirth, and I’m the only thing she has left. I can’t keep her because I’m on active duty. I need you to help me out. I need you to keep her.”

Camille looked like someone had just thrown a pot of boiling water in her face. There was no way she wanted to raise another baby. She hadn’t even wanted to raise Mack.

“Absolutely not,” she said, picking up a knife to start cutting up the watermelon she had picked from her garden that morning.

“Camille, I’ve never asked anything of you in my entire life. I need you to do this for me.”

“Well, she’s at least three months old,” Camille said, walking away from the baby’s outstretched arms. “If her momma died in childbirth, someone has been watching her since then.”

“I already told you she doesn’t have anyone left on that side of the family. She was in foster care when I found out about her.” Camille had never been able to tell when Mack was lying, and he had only gotten better at it since he left home.

“Well, maybe she should just stay in foster care. It might be the best thing for her.”

“Camille, she’s your granddaughter.” Mack almost laughed as he said it. He knew that was the weakest argument he could make.

“Are you sure? Do you even know for sure she’s your daughter?”

“She’s my daughter, Camille.” Mack tried to keep his tone civil, but he was due back at the base tomorrow. He was desperate.

“Well, then maybe you should take care of her. I haven’t seen you in five years, and now you just show up here, expecting me to take care of your baby.”

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