Page 10 of Home Town

“Ready?” Jones asked.

Corey reached for his cover on the table. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Halfway,” Jones said.

“Halfway,” Corey echoed somberly knowing it didn’t matter they were half done with the ten funerals because the worst one was still ahead.

As Corey pulled the door closed behind him, Jones asked, “Looking forward to getting home?”

Corey scoffed. “Yes and no.”

Jones shot him a questioning glance.

“I’m not looking forward to a whole new batch of people to rehash what happened with, starting the moment they hear I was on the Eisenhower,” he explained.

The attack on the aircraft carrier had turned out to be the deadliest assault on a US military vessel since the USS Cole two and a half decades before, hence why it was all anyone wanted to talk about.

“I hear you about that.” Jones snorted. “Maybe we should all just start lying about it.”

Corey let out a short bitter laugh. “Maybe.”

“No, I’m serious. Picture it. You’re at a bar or wherever. Someone—doesn’t matter who—asks where you were before this. And we just… lie. Say Bahrain or Djibouti or something. Anything. Who would know?”

“Anyone who knows us,” Corey supplied with a raised brow.

Jones shot him a sideways glare. “Well, yeah. But it’ll work for anyone who doesn’t. And for those who do know us, we can just start to tell them to shut up. We’re tired of talking about it.”

For once, Corey was in one-hundred percent agreement with Jones. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he knew one thing—he might have to give that lying thing a try.

Jacksonville, Florida to Albany, New York by way of a stupidly long layover at Atlanta Airport was the best Corey could do if he wanted to get out of town right after Rabbit’s funeral. So that’s what he booked.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, escaping as soon as possible.

Now, as he made his way out through security to get to the USO at ATL to face a three-and-a-half-hour layover, he regretted not booking the flight tomorrow morning with the one hour stop in Charlotte even though it did cost two hundred dollars more.

Too late now. At least he could chill in the relative quiet of the USO where no one would bother him.

“Hello and welcome! My name’s Blessing. Come on in, please. I’ll get you checked in and then find you a nice comfy seat. I can see you need to sit.”

Maybe not so quiet or unbothered after all.

The female volunteer was too bubbly and talkative for Corey who was still recovering from Rabbit’s funeral. And damned if her sunshiny demeanor didn’t remind him of Rabbit, which was the last thing he wanted right now.

“Excuse me?” He frowned over her comment about him needing to sit.

“I can see you’ve been recently injured.”

“How—” How the hell did she know anything about him?

“You’re moving a bit gingerly. Not to mention just a tad bit of bruising is still visible.” She touched the side of her own face to indicate the spot on his cheek where he knew he’d been badly bruised from his fall after he’d been knocked unconscious. “I am sorry. I know it’s been hard. And I know you’re probably tired of talking about it so?—”

She touched the tips of her thumb and forefinger together and ran them across her lips, as if to zip them closed before she pushed a sign-in sheet forward.

“Just your John Hancock on that please then we’ll find you a seat to rest until your flight home.” She smiled and though he wondered about why she’d assumed he was flying home—perhaps she’d thought that because of his injury—it seemed easier to just do as she asked than to question it.

He signed in and followed her to an area where the seating did indeed look comfortable, but most spots were already filled. He glanced around for somewhere else. Somewhere with less people and less potential for chatter.

Before he could express his desire to not sit here, Blessing had begun the introductions, making it impossible to escape without seeming rude.

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