“Twenty-three, I think.”
Both of Nolan’s parents grimaced and shook their heads. Yeah, I could relate. It hadn’t been easy for any of us, but the kid who’d found them—that incident was undoubtedly going into his“why I have PTSD”file with the VA.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway, NCIS and local police took that one over, so beyond securing the initial scene and writing some reports, I wasn’t heavily involved in the investigation. Not that it needed all that much—it was, uh, pretty obvious what had happened, and they had cameras in the house anyway.”
“Did they have kids?” Nolan asked softly.
“They did,” I said. “Fortunately, they were at their grandparents’ house that night. I never found out if Dad took advantage of the kids being gone, or if he sent them over on purpose so they’d be out of the house. Not really sure I want to know.”
“I don’t blame you,” John said. “What a shame.”
“It was.” I really, really didn’t want to continue down that dark path, so I shifted a little and said, “We do get some pretty hilarious drunk and disorderly calls.”
John chuckled, and I thought I sensed some relief at the conversation’s new direction. “Isn’t that kind of a stereotype for the Navy? The whole drunken Sailor thing?”
“Well, some stereotypes do exist for a reason.”
Nolan snorted. “Yeah. Because Sailors can’t hold their liquor.”
“Pfft. We can keep up with Marines, thank you.” I looked pointedly at him. “And at least Sailors have sea legs. Put Marines on a ship, and…” I grimaced theatrically.
“Oh, come on.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie.”
“No, it isn’t. And I’ve got albums full of photos to prove it!”
He scoffed. “What? You have albums of seasick Marines?”
“You better believe it!” I turned to his parents. “I was deployed aboard an amphibious ship a few years ago, and we took on some Marines before we left. They were so green for like two weeks.” I snickered. “They talk mad trash on shore, but man, as soon as they feel the motion of the ocean…”
Nolan tsked and rolled his eyes. “Bullshit.”
“Nolan,” Carol said, though she was giggling. “Language.”
He was absolutely adorable when he was chagrined. “Sorry, Mom.”
“No, you’re not,” John said. “You’ve always had a mouth. I still think you picked the Marines because then you could curse like you’d been doing all your life anyway.”
“Uh, excuse me.” I feigned offense. “I believe you’re thinking of the Navy?”
“He’s not wrong,” Nolan admitted. “It’s ‘cuss like a Sailor,’ not ‘cuss like a Marine’… even if we do it better.”
I elbowed him, careful not to disturb Cleo.
She apparently still didn’t appreciate it, though, because she flattened her ears and growled at me.
“Okay! Sorry! Geez.”
“Good kitty,” Nolan said, petting her emphatically. “What agoodkitty.”
“Dick,” I muttered.
She growled again.
He just laughed.
Because of course he did.
Chapter 16