Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Somethin’ wrong?”
Her head jerks up, her eyes meet mine, then they narrow down. “What are you doing here?”
“Picking up food.”
She scoffs.
“What? I’m not allowed to eat here or somethin’?”
“Well…” She pauses, maybe wondering if she should have this argument with me. She decides in the affirmative. “Bryn is the head chef here, so—”
“So what? Are you really telling me that I’m not allowed to eat here?”
“It would just be a common courtesy if you found somewhere else to frequent.” She starts walking forward in the maze, which is actually walking to my left. I start walking forward too, which is also to my left.
“Are you following me?”
There is no way to stop my laugh. “We’re in a hedge maze, Lowyn. I’m not following you.”
But I… sort of am following her, because for some reason my part of the maze lines up perfectly with her part of the maze and the next thing I know, we’re walking side by side.
“Oh. My. God.” She whispers this under her breath.
“Look.” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry I was such a dick this morning. What Bryn said makes sense. It was just weird, ya know? I’ve been gone all this time, and I come home, meet up with my ex-girlfriend in a random bar, and when I drop her off at home, I discover she’s living in my house. I mean, you can see my point, right?”
“Why are you here?”
“That’s your answer? Why am I here? I told you, I’m picking up food.”
She stops walking and faces me, jaw set, eyes narrowed, anger coming off of her like heat. “Not here at the inn, Collin. Why are you back?”
“I… we… we started a business.”
“You don’t sound too sure of yourself.”
She’s right, I don’t. “Private security. Amon, me, and a couple other guys from work—”
“Work? What is ‘work’ these days, Collin?”
For a moment I’m at a loss. I didn’t prepare for this. Of course, I know what to say, but that’s to strangers and clients. This is Lowyn. Still, the practiced monologue is all I’ve got. “Private security, I just said. We offer bodyguard service, cybersecurity, home and business security, firearms training, and protection dogs.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, staring at me.
“What?” I’m still a little hostile and it comes out in my tone, even though I don’t mean it to. Everything about Lowyn feels provocative. And not in the sexy way. The confrontational way. Which is ironic, since she’s never been a confrontational kind of person. “What?” I demand again.
“That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time? Since you were kicked out of the Marines?”
“I wasn’t kicked out. Who told you that?”
“Your… daddy.”
My jaw is clenched now too, and I look up, trying to control my anger. “I didn’t get kicked out. And neither did Amon. We… just… got pushed in a different direction.”
“I thought it was a dishonorable discharge?”
“It was, but—”
“So you got kicked out.”
“That’s not how it works, Low. You’ve got no idea how it works.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “OK. So how does it work?”
I open my mouth to tell her it’s all private. There are NDA’s involved and worse. Were, at least. The congressional hearings kinda made all those things moot.
But there have been some threats since then. Thickly veiled ones, but threats nonetheless. It’s not the kind of thing the military-industrial complex wants the general population hearing about. Or, God forbid, talking about.
But I’m saved by Jessica, of all people, calling my name from the back porch. “Collin! Food’s ready!”
I look back at Lowyn and shrug. “I gotta go.”
And that’s exactly what I do. I don’t even say goodbye.
When I get back to the compound all the guys are hanging on my front porch waiting for the food. Sitting on various pieces of outdoor furniture that weren’t there when I left.
I pull the Jeep right up to the porch, parking a little sideways and balancing one tire on a rock the way I used to back in high school. I look up at the guys, find Amon’s face, and see him smile as he remembers this miniscule act of rebellion.
I was such a good guy back then. Before that asshole broke into my house, I had the whole world at my fingertips. I was playing the game and I was playing it honestly too. I didn’t drink, or smoke, or cheat on my girlfriend. I worked out five days a week, was the star receiver on the Trinity football team, and got good grades. I went to the Revival and played my part every fucking weekend—and I know it’s not church and it’s got almost nothing to do with God, it’s just a fucking sideshow, but I would play my part. I would sit up there, watching my daddy preach his message, and I would close my eyes, and think on the words coming out of his mouth—time-honored things like respect, and honesty, and working hard.