Page 82 of All of You

“So.” I folded my arms on the table and waited.

Her focus flickered from one place to the next around the room, and she sipped her water. “So. Thatcher asked me to meet him a few minutes early. We got into it, and now you’re on your own.”

“What does got into it mean for you and Thatcher?” I asked, chomping another chip despite it being nine-thirty in the morning.

“It means he came early to talk me out of what he somehow found out I was planning to do. I don’t know why he thought it’d be more effective without you, but he apparently did.” She crossed her arms, her legs, and leaned back in the booth.

“Okay. Tell me about that, then.”

She took a deep breath. “I got a job in Europe. At a base in Germany for their ed center. The perfect GS job popped up, and I applied, and got it, and I leave next week.”

“Next week? That’s… soon.”

I really hoped someone was recording this for posterity because my conversational prowess was at an all-time high.

Bec snickered. “Yep. Nailed that one, Holder.”

The unimpressed look I shot her made her laugh out loud.

“Tell me more,” I said just as the waiter brought our food.

“It’s going to be amazing. It’s actually a lateral move, but I’ve heard once you get into the European system, it’s a bit easier to move around over there, so hopefully, something will open up, and I can promote. But I get access to the base resources, though I have to find my own place, which I have some good leads on. I have a few friends who’ve done this, including my old boss, and I’ve been in contact with her.”

She sliced through a fried triangle of dough. This place served sopapillas as a brunch item and they. Were. Mind-blowing. If I hadn’t been about to be in a tailor-made suit in front of millions of people escorting one of the most beautiful women in the world, I would have ordered those.

“That sounds like a perfect opportunity for you. I can’t think of anything better, really.” I’d expected bad news based on all the tension wafting from the table when I came in.

“It is. Erin’s been telling me I should think about getting out of here—away from Tennessee, away from Fort Campbell, for over a year. For a long time, I felt like that was a betrayal. I felt like moving away was a kind of moving on that Dillon would never have, so it wasn’t fair for me to do.”

She focused on her meal for a moment, taking a bite, chewing, and if I knew her, composing herself so the emotions that seemed buried so deep wouldn’t try to surface.

“I understand. I’ve felt that way, even about my own stuff. I can see why it would be difficult for you.”

“I think I finally realized that all my traveling and getting away was my attempt to have little glimpses of life outside of here without the risk of actually moving, and without the guilt of it. But the last six months or so have made me realize I don’t want to be stuck here, physically or mentally, for the rest of my life.”

Her lovely brown eyes met mine, and I saw it there. The fear, the longing, the hope.

If she felt her travel had been more adventure-seeking and less evasion tactic, that was for her to decide. But, without a doubt, getting out of here would be good for her. She’d lived here for two years before her brother was killed, and now well over a year after. Watching her go through life without her brother, really her only relative she had in the world she saw regularly before he passed, was like watching something brutal and violent you couldn’t stop.

I felt nothing but relief that she was taking this step. “Why is Thatcher so upset about this? I would have thought he’d be supportive.”

She set her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. The patches of red at her cheeks deepened, and it shocked me to see she was blushing.

“I’m not sure.”

I swallowed a particularly delicious bite. “Really?”

“Really. He nearly blew up as soon as I said I was leaving next week. He’s been hounding me for weeks, wanting me to check in with him and let him know I was okay. He’s got it in his head I’m this fragile creature who needs… something from him, and I don’t. I think he got upset that I made that clear. He’s acting like he’s trying to do what Dillon might have done for me—be this disapproving big brother. It’s really irritating.”

I couldn’t help the grin that jumped to my lips as she said that.

“I don’t think that’s quite it.” I had to be careful here.

“What do you mean?”

She tucked her short hair behind her ear, and that small action made me wonder when I’d see her again. We were a strange mix of close and not close at all, but we’d had Dillon in common for long enough now that I thought we’d stay in touch.

“I mean, I don’t think it’s as simple as him wanting to fill Dillon’s role. I know Thatcher cares about you, wants you to have a great life. I’m the same—I want you to have a full life and not be hobbled by the loss you’ve experienced, even if the grief will never leave you.”

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