Page 42 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

Chapter Twenty-One

Outer Banks, North Carolina

2008

Mack stopped in the house when he arrived in the Outer Banks to give Camille some extra money for Millie to join the local swim club. He was one hundred percent sure they couldn’t teach her anything he hadn’t already taught her, but her friends were joining, and it seemed important to her. Mack found Camille in the kitchen.

“Hey. Here’s that extra money for the Y swim club,” he said, tossing the envelope on the table. “Where’s Millie?”

“Oh, that child’s off feeling sorry for herself somewhere. She’s been in a mood for the entire week,” Camille said dismissively.

“Millie’s never in a bad mood. What’s wrong with her?”

“Well first, hormones. They’re spreading through her like the plague,” Camille said.

Mack could have done without that information. She was barely thirteen. He had hoped it was way too early for all that.

“And second, some boy’s been picking on her at school,” Camille said.

Mack snapped back immediately from his thoughts, his face suddenly serious. “What boy? Where? What’s his name? Where does he live?”

“There’s no need to get all upset. I told her the boy just probably likes her. That’s how they show it at that age.”

“Likes her? She’s thirteen. She’s way too young for any of that, Camille.”

“Well, nevertheless, it’s here. I had boys swarming around me pretty regularly by that age,” she said.

Mack tried to think back to when he was thirteen. His memory wasn’t what it used to be, but he was pretty damn sure he was still only interested in video games and guns at that age.

“I’m going to look for her,” Mack said.

“You coddle her, Mack. She needs to develop thicker skin,” Camille called after him.

Mack kept walking. He knew Camille was partially right. Millie needed to be physically tough. That’s why he had been training her on self-defense and weapons since she was five. But, mental toughness was another thing. Millie was sweet, trusting, and affectionate—qualities Mack had never had until Millie came into his life. He wanted so badly for her to retain that innocence.

Mack knew Millie would be under the lilac bushes, as usual. She had figured out early in her life that Camille was deathly afraid of bees and would never come near that side of the yard in the summer.

“Hey, Mills,” Mack said, watching the bees fly peacefully around her.

Of course, she’s finally won them over to her side, Mack thought, smiling.

“Hey,” she said dejectedly without looking up at him.

“You wanna come out of there?” Mack asked. He didn’t much like bees either.

She rolled over and quickly army-crawled out of the bushes. He couldn’t help but feel proud of her flawless execution of the techniques he had taught her—head low, butt low, pull yourself through like you’re doing chin-ups in the dirt.

She didn’t make a move to stand up after she’d cleared the bushes, so he reached down and picked her defeated body up, and hugged it to him. She didn’t return the hug, but she didn’t pull away either. He just let her stand there, her sad, little limp body pressed against him, until he felt his shirt getting wet. He looked down to see her crying silently.

“Come here, Mills,” he said, guiding her over to the wall of the house. They both sat down with their backs to it, his arm around her and her head resting on his shoulder.

“Camille said some boy’s been picking on you.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“Who is he? What’s his name?” Mack tried again to get his name, so he could have a face-to-face meeting with the kid.

“I’m not going to tell you his name,” Millie said.

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