Page 79 of The Only Reason (The Trident Trilogy 2)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Millie

Jalalabad, Afghanistan

2020

“Dad? Where are you?”

We just landed in San Diego a few hours ago, and we’ve already looked at three houses. We’re on our fourth house now—a cute little bungalow near Pacific Beach. We’re moving here soon, and Dad told me I get to choose the house. I’m standing in the street looking at the front. Dad disappeared inside somewhere.

“Millie. I’m here, sweetie. I’m inside. Come and find me.”

I look down at my feet as they start moving toward the house. Wait. This isn’t right. Why are they moving? I thought they were stuck.

I walk carefully into the house and see Dad standing in the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetie. This house is kind of beaten up, but I think we can make it work. I’ll fix it up. What do you think?”

I duck my head down and wait for the house to explode. Nothing happens.

Dad laughs. “What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for the house to blow up.”

“What?” He laughs again as he comes over to hug me. “Why would the house blow up? You’re really going to have to stop watching those scary movies at night.”

I start patting my hands on his chest to make sure he’s real. He seems to be.

“Mills, what are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re real.” I reach out and touch his cheek.

“Sweetie, you need to get some sleep.”

Dad walks over to the table in the kitchen. He pulls out a chair and nods toward it.

“Why don’t you come and talk to me? C’mon. Sit down. We’ll talk about this.”

I jolt awake and immediately look for Dad. He’s not here. I’m in bed with Mason. Surprisingly, I didn’t wake him up. We were up past one in the morning talking. I check my phone. It’s only four, but I know I’m not going to be able to sleep again.

I take a deep breath as I stare at the wall. I need to talk to Dad today. It’s time. I’m not sure if I’m ready, but I don’t think I’ll ever be a hundred percent ready. I’m nervous. I don’t know how I feel. It changes every minute. I don’t know what to say to him.

Of course I’m breathtakingly happy he’s alive, but I’m also still in a little bit of shock about it. I’m mad. I’m confused. And most of all, I’m scared. I’m scared if I acknowledge he’s really back, I’ll turn around and he’ll be gone again. I haven’t let myself be vulnerable since he died—or I guess now that’s changed to since he disappeared. I still can’t think of it that way.

I know talking to him is the only way to move on with whatever this is going to be. I’m still not sure what I want it to be. Does he think he’s just going to walk back into my life and everything continues as normal? I know deep down that’s what I want, and it pisses me off. I can’t let him off that easily, but every part of me wants to do just that.

I cringe when I think about how I treated Dad after Mason got shot. I told Mason I didn’t remember what happened, but I remember it all. I remember Dad carrying me to the helicopter because I couldn’t walk. I remember him hugging me tightly to his chest and telling me over and over everything thing was going to be okay. I remember Ty trying to stop the bleeding from Mason’s neck. I remember landing in Jalalabad and the MPs pulling Dad off the helicopter. I remember watching them pull him in one direction and the medics taking Mason in the other. I remember Chase telling me he would go with Dad. I remember him telling Butch and Hawk to take me to the hospital. I remember Dad saying, “I love you, Millie,” as the MPs pulled him away. I remember purposely not saying it back as I stared at him. I was intentionally trying to punish him. I didn’t try to help him, to hug him, to tell him I loved him. I just stared defiantly at him. The way I acted embarrasses me. It horrifies me.

Chase and Mason—and even Raine—have been telling me Dad did what he thought was the right thing to protect me. They all understand what he did way more than I do. I’m not mad at them for thinking that. They can’t understand how I feel. No one can. Except Dad. I know he understands. It sucks when you can’t talk to the only person who truly understands you. He understands me down deep to my core. I wonder what advice he’d give me about forgiving him. Actually, I know he’d be harder on himself than anyone else because he understands us—what we were to each other. He was my world, and only he understands that fully.

Mason starts to move. I can tell he’s trying to get up without waking me. That’s usually a pretty easy thing to do. I guess it’s time to start the day—the day I finally talk to Dad. I roll over and look at Mason.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?” he asks.

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

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