Page 28 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

“‘Please don’t say we’ll never find a way, and tell me all my love’s in vain.’” I finish the verse for her.

“Yeah. I always wake up sweating and startled. It’s not a good dream. It’s more like a nightmare,” she says in a whisper.

I reach out and take her hand in mine. I don’t even care if Culver is looking. I want her eyes to look happy again.

She smiles at me, and lets me hold her hand. “I thought you said this got easier.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it does, eventually,” I say. “Does your mom live in North Carolina?”

“I never knew my mom. She died right after I was born. I lived with my grandma growing up, and my dad got down to see me as much as he could. The worst times were when he was on deployment. But, you know about that. Are you married? Kids?”

“I was married, but we never had kids.”

“How long have you been divorced?”

“A while. I haven’t talked to her in years. You know when you don’t have kids, there’s not much of a need to talk. Are you married?”

“No. Never been. I’ve been dating someone for a few years, but I’m not really interested in marrying him,” she says.

“Does he know what you do for a living?”

“He thinks I work for the State Department.”

“I guess it’s kind of hard to have any kind of relationship when one of the first things you tell him is a lie. I’ve been there.”

“Yeah. They always say not to date someone you work with, but maybe it’s easier. At least everyone knows the truth.”

“Are you hitting on me?” I ask, sincerely hoping the answer is yes. Let’s just get on with this thing.

“I meant someone else at the agency,” she says, laughing.

“Nah, man. You can’t date a spook.”

“I am a spook.”

“Yeah, but you’re the weirdest spook I’ve ever met.”

“What does that mean?”

“Not weird. I mean, most unusual. Like most of the agents we get are skinny, and pale, and tired looking. Like zombies. You’re more robust.”

“Robust? What the fuck? No wonder you’re divorced.” She takes her hand away from mine and slugs me in the shoulder with it. In honesty, she’s got a decent jab.

“No, I mean, it’s a compliment! Like you look healthy,” I say, trying to explain myself by gesturing at her body. By the way she’s looking at me, I’m guessing that wasn’t the best idea.

“Damn, I hope you shoot better than you communicate,” she says, shaking her head.

“Wow, that’s how we’re playing. Okay,” I say, laughing as I rest my head back on the seat.

We sit there in silence for a second, our eyes closed.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks slowly.

“Anything.”

“My dad told me once that when he drove down to see me, he’d give himself until the Virginia-North Carolina state line to turn his work side off, so when he got home, he was just my dad. Is that even possible for you guys?”

I want so badly to tell her yes, but I don’t want to lie to her. “No, it’s probably not. I mean I’m sure he tried his hardest, but it’s not possible to turn it off all-together. It’s just not.”

I look over at her. She’s nodding with her eyes still closed, but I can tell she’s sad again. I reach over and put my hand on top of hers.

“Try to get some sleep, Millie,” I say quietly.

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