The Only Reason: A Novel (Trident Trilogy: Book Two)

by Donna Schwartze

  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.”

  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.”

  He smiles for a second then looks down. “I feel like I don’t even know her anymore.”

  “You know her. She’s still the same person.”

  “You think she understands why I did it? Why I disappeared?”

  “I don’t think she’s mad at you, if that’s what you mean. Understanding it might take a little more time.”

  “I don’t know what to say to make it better. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway.”

  “She wants to talk to you more than anything in the world. She’s just being stubborn. She wants her dad. All these years, all she wanted was to have you back. Now that she has that, deep down I don’t think she really cares how it happened,” I say, pausing for a second. “I know you’re having some doubts about your decision, but, man, you did a lot right before that. She’s seriously the best person I�
�ve ever met.”

  He stares at me for a minute before he replies. “She was such a sweet, sunshiny kid. I hope she still has some of that. Her face looks so serious now.”

  “She hasn’t changed that much. Underneath it all, she’s still sweet, carefree, funny . . . This has all been a lot—for everyone. Give her time.”

  He nods and drains the last of his coffee.

  “Sorry I came at you with the abandonment shit. I didn’t mean it,” I say, avoiding his stare.

  “Yeah you did, but it’s fine. You did a decent job getting us out of that situation.”

  “Yeah, that, and I took a bullet for you.”

  “Settle down. That bullet wasn’t going anywhere near me. All you did was keep it from hitting the wall behind me.”

  “It would have hit you.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugs. “Why’d you take it?”

  “She couldn’t have dealt with losing you again. Seriously. She would have died with you right there on the spot.”

  “From the way she screamed when you were hit, I don’t think she could have taken you dying much better.”

  “She’d get over me dying—eventually. But she’d never get over you dying again.”

  He stares at me for a second and then nods. “If you think you taking a bullet for me is going to keep me from kicking your ass if you ever hurt her, you need to think again.”

  “I will never hurt your daughter,” I say seriously. “But you know my jaw—where you landed that right hook—hurts more than where I took the bullet. You’ve got some force there.”

  “You can never go wrong with a basic hook,” he says, smiling. “You took it, though. Most guys can’t stay standing if I land it decently. You might not be as big of an asshole as I thought.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m definitely an asshole.”

  He laughs. “Chase told me once Millie was going to bring home a guy just like me. Looks like he wasn’t too far off. I’m kind of an asshole, too. As long as you’re an asshole for her and not to her, I guess I’m fine with it.”

  “Speaking of her, I told her I’d bring her breakfast. I better get going,” I say, standing up.

  “Let me guess: exactly three pancakes—extra fluffy—with strawberries and powdered sugar only—because syrup makes them less fluffy.”

  I smile imagining young Millie—blonde curls swinging back and forth—demanding that order. “Sorry. Now it’s a hard-boiled egg, fruit cup, and extra coffee. Although the pancakes sound better to me.”

  “All grown up now . . .” He stares straight ahead at the wall. “Does she still like strawberry ice cream?”

  “She never eats ice cream.”

  He looks at me with genuine shock on his face. “I can’t believe that’s true. Are we sure that’s my daughter?”

  “It’s your daughter. She stopped doing things that reminded her of you. Now that you’re back, I’m sure she’ll be all about fluffy pancakes and strawberry ice cream.” I smile. “I really need to get her the breakfast before she passes out from low-blood sugar. She has to be fed constantly. Was she like that when she was a kid?”

  “It was like feeding a parking meter. I had to have snacks on me at all times. I’m glad to see at least one thing hasn’t changed.”

  “A lot hasn’t changed. She still surfs. And she’s so much better than me. I don’t even like going out with her. Maybe you can pick that back up again to save my ego from getting crushed any more than it already has.”

  He smiles and looks down. “I’d like that,” he says as I start to walk away. “And you can call me Mack—for now.”

  When I open the door to Millie’s room, she pounces at me to get the food. “Oh my God, thank you! I’m so hungry.”

  I smile as I watch her inhale the fruit. It’s actually kind of nice to have someone to talk to that knows all about her very unique behaviors.

  “I had breakfast with your dad.”

  She stops eating and looks up. “Really? How’d that go?”

  “I think he hates me less now.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “Millie,” I say, raising my eyebrows.

  She laughs. “Yeah. Raine told me your first words with him were . . . umm . . . challenging.”

  “We did not get off to a good start.”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “He’s not going to be anywhere near fine until you talk to him. Are you done punishing him yet?”

  “Just about,” she says as she take a long sip of her coffee. “I’ll find him after I finish this.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Millie

  Jalalabad, Afghanistan

  2020

  Chase told me Dad was on the firing range. I head down there, still not sure if I’m ready to talk to him. When I turn the corner into the range, he’s popping a spent mag out of his rifle. I stand there for a second, looking at him. He looks a little skinnier than I remember, but his arms are still huge. There’s nothing I want more than to be wrapped up in them.

  “You still practicing your shooting?” he asks without looking back at me.

  The sound of his voice makes me jump. It’s only been living in my head for the past nine years. Hearing it live almost takes my breath away.

  “Not really. Just as much as the agency makes us to stay certified.”

  “Do they make you keep up your hand-to-hand combat skills, too?”

  “A little.” He still hasn’t looked at me. “But after you died, I didn’t really like to do much of anything that we used to do together.”

  He fires a few more rounds down range—both in the target’s head—just like he taught me.

  “I know you hate me, Millie,” he says as he puts his rifle down and finally turns around.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Well at least you’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not even mad at you really. I know you did what you thought was right,” I say, trying to mentally block the tears starting to form in my eyes. “I guess I just don’t understand why you didn’t take me with you. I would have gone into hiding with you.”

  “That wouldn’t have been any kind of life for you, sweetie. I wanted to protect you from reality a little longer. I disappeared so you could keep living your life.”

  “You were my life,” I say quietly. “When you disappeared, it disappeared, too.”

  As the tears start rolling down my cheeks, he walks carefully toward me. “Millie,” he says, reaching one of his arms out.

  I take a quick step back from him as I rub the tears off my face. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “No.”

  He stops walking, but he’s close enough now that I can get a good look at his face. His eyes are still so deep and gentle. They’ve always had a hypnotic effect on me. One look from them, and I always knew everything would be okay. I look away from them quickly.

  “From what I saw the other day, you’re still a pretty good shot.” I can tell he’s trying to make small talk. It feels weird—like I’m talking to a stranger.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever killed someone. It doesn’t feel good.”

  “You were defending yourself. If you didn’t kill them, you would be dead.”

  “That doesn’t make it feel any better.”

  “I know,” he says softly. “There’s a reason I never wanted you in this life.”

  I look back at him. “I got into it to find out who Mom was. I wish you had just told me.”

  He nods. “I should have. It was a mistake.”

  “When we were driving to the valley, Aza told me a lot about Mom. It sounds like she was a force from the time she was a little girl.” I laugh, remembering the stories, but then stop myself. I don’t want to be happy right now.

  “She was a force when I met her, for su
re. She was every bit as strong as I am—probably stronger,” he says, his voice cracking a bit. “That’s true of her daughter, too.”

  “I wish I could have known her . . .” My voice trails off as the tears start to form again. This time I can’t stop them. They start pouring down my face with the force of Niagara Falls. The second I look up at him, he’s on me—his big arms wrapping me into a bear hug. I collapse on his chest—sobbing so hard that I start shaking uncontrollably.

  He puts his arms under mine to hold me up and then wraps them so tightly around me that I can barely breathe. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispers over and over into my ear.

  When I finally stop shaking, he guides my limp body over to a wall and sits us both down against it. His arm goes around me as I rest my head on his shoulder. My mind flashes back to growing up in the Outer Banks. We spent so many hours sitting like this—me telling him all my childhood dramas. He rubbed my back as he listened and then always gave me the perfect advice. I’ve probably missed that most of all.

  “Dad, I don’t want to work for the agency anymore,” I blurt out and then continue in rapid- fire succession. “And I don’t know what I want to do with my life. And I love Mason, but I don’t want to get married. And I’m not ready to have kids. And I don’t want anyone to take away my independence, but I also want them to take care of me. And sometimes I feel like my head is going to explode because there’s so much in there and it’s all fighting with each other and I don’t know what to do.” I finally stop, take a deep breath, and look up at him.

  His eyes are twinkling a little bit. “That’s a lot, Mills,” he says, grinning. “How about we work on all of that over the next few days? We’ll work it out. Remember, I always told you that you have to do what feels right to you—not to me or anyone else. You never have to do anything you don’t want to do. And that includes being with me. If you ever want me to leave you alone, I completely understand. I deserve that.”