Page 4 of Home Town

And wouldn’t you know it, the mess deck was located on the second deck which was, coincidentally, just at the water line.

Fuck.

Boots pounded on metal as alarms continued and the crew responded, racing to battle stations.

But before Corey could reach his assigned position, before he could even brace for the impact, the world around him exploded with a sudden, deafening, violently intense blast that sent his body air born in the tight space.

Then it all went completely dark.

Chapter Three

“Josie?” Her mother’s voice came through the earpiece loud and clear—while also sounding clearly surprised.

Why was that? Besides the fact that Josie hated talking on the phone and avoided answering calls whenever possible. Why didn’t people just message? She gave her mother a pass on that. Gen Xers, Boomers, none of those older generations ever changed and she wasn’t about to waste her time trying.

Josie didn’t question her mother’s surprise. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like the response. Instead she said flatly, “Hello, Mother.”

“Hmm. I’m surprised you answered,” her mother said, confirming Josie’s original suspicions.

Knowing she’d regret it, she asked, “And why is that?”

“It’s early out there. I figured you’d still be sleeping?—”

Then why the hell had she called?

“I know how you like to stay up late doing…whatever for half the night,” her mother continued.

Josie had been up late last night but she wasn’t doing whatever, as her mother had insinuated.

She’d been finishing up the final details on the website for a music client who decided to drop their tunes a week early. And having to shore up another client’s security and firewall in response to a brute force attack.

In spite of having too few hours sleep, she was up early now to finish up a digital marketing plan for a new client. But did she get credit for any of that? Or even the benefit of the doubt?

Nope.

Her entire family assumed she was a lazy bum. Yes, sometimes she slept until noon— because she’d worked all night. Yes, most days she was in PJs or sweatpants—it was what she considered one of the top perks of working for herself from home.

But the concept of freelancing, even the concept of working from home, seemed completely foreign to them all— Quinn, the Navy lifer. Her dad, a recently retired corporate man who’d sold insurance his entire adult life. And her mom, a professional wife and mother whose life’s work had been to support the working man in her life and raise their children.

Not one of them got it. Or got her.

She’d given up fighting it long ago. It was easier to grin and bear it.

With a bracing inhale, Josie said, “What’s up, Mom?”

“We’re fostering kittens for the local shelter,” she began.

That was a new one.

Leave it to her mother to find yet another fresh and different way to fill her day. She’d thought her dad finally retiring would curtail her mother’s ever-expanding list of whacky projects and volunteer opportunities.

Apparently not.

“That sounds…cute. I’m sure I’ll see lots of pictures of them on your Instagram.” It would be a pleasant change from all the stories about Rusty.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d see them in person.”

Josie lifted a brow. So that was the reason for the call. This was an it’s-been-so-long-since-you’ve-visited guilt call.

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