Page 80 of The Only Reason (The Trident Trilogy 2)

Chapter Forty

Mason

Jalalabad, Afghanistan

2020

My stomach is growling when I wake up. I gently unwrap my body from around Millie even though I know I could probably drop a bowling ball on her and she wouldn’t wake up. She makes me jump a little when she rolls over.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?” I ask, surprised.

“No, I was already awake. I’ve been awake for a while.”

“Did you have a nightmare? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“It wasn’t really a nightmare. I don’t know what it was.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“You need to talk to him, Mills. You know you want to.”

“Not yet.”

My stomach growls loudly again. “Okay. That’s your decision. Do you want to get breakfast with me?”

“I want to stay in a little longer. Will you bring me back something?”

“Sure, babe. The usual?” I lean down and kiss her lips softly.

“Yes, please,” she says as she burrows back into the covers.

When I get to the cafeteria, Hawk waves at me from a table in the corner. We always try to sit together so no one else tries to talk to us. We’re not a very social bunch. I’m headed over to him when I see Mack sitting at the table right in front of me.

“Where’s my daughter?” he says, looking up at me briefly between bites of his breakfast.

“She’s sleeping in,” I say. And then decide to add, “At least that’s what she told me when she texted me this morning from her room.”

He rolls his eyes, looking down at his eggs. “Well at least I know you’ll never get away with cheating on her because you’re a bad fucking liar.”

“I would never cheat on your daughter,” I say quickly.

He stares at me and shakes his head. “Good to know.”

I stand there with my tray, not knowing if I should sit down or continue on to Hawk’s table. Mack motions for me to sit down. From the look on his face, I’m thinking hiding in a corner might be a better option, but I sit down anyway.

“Man, I’m sorry. I know this is weird,” I say awkwardly, and then quickly add, “Mr. Marsh. Sir.”

He looks at me again, but doesn’t say anything. We sit quietly for a few minutes—both acting like we’re totally engaged in eating our breakfasts.

Without looking up, he finally says, “Chase told me you take good care of her. Thanks for that.”

“Yeah, I try to when she lets me. She’s pretty independent. She always been that way?”

“Yep. Independent and bossy.” He laughs and sits back in his chair. “When I was bringing her home from Bosnia, we had a layover in Germany. I bought one of those baby backpack carriers, so I could strap her to me. I fell asleep on the plane with her attached to my chest. I woke up with her hitting my face with her little hands and making very demanding noises. She was hungry and pissed I was sleeping and ignoring her. Her eyes were so intense.”

“She still gets like that when she’s hungry,” I say, smiling. “Including the hitting.”

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