Page 3 of Rebellious

“Good thing I don’t care.” I add in three spoonfuls of sugar, watching his disapproval. “Don’t start. I need sugar. Your bullshit today has used up all my energy.”

Not true. I just really love sugar.

“Speak, Jameson, or I’ll stay here all day, getting on your nerves with the tick of every tortured second.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

I’m not in the mood for his stalling. “Why did your son think he caused you to leave?”

Bennett told me why in the car, but I want Cade to say it and, of course, fill in the blanks. Bennett might seem mature for his age, but he doesn’t know his father like I do.

“Thank you for staying with him,” he whispers, deflecting the question.

“Sure. Bennett’s a moody kid, so it felt like just another Saturday with his father. Now, what was in the letters that set you off?”

Bennett told me he had gotten the mail, gave it to his father, and then watched him peel out of the driveway twenty minutes later.

Cade clears his throat, tracing the wood grain on the table with his finger. “I would have never opened it had I known.”

I sigh and scoot down in my chair and kick Cade’s. “Who sent you a letter, Jameson?”

His head drops, and he sucks in a breath. “They want to present me with a Bronze Star.”

The pain seeps through each syllable, making it hard for him to take a breath.

“Fuck, dude.” I blow out a breath.

“I can’t accept it.”

I figured. “So don’t.”

He nods like that was obvious.

“Then what’s the problem?”

His jaw works, and he swipes angrily at his eyes. “Breck received a letter too.”

Oh.

“Brannon is receiving a Purple Heart.” He bangs his fist on the table. “She won’t accept it for him unless I accept mine.”

Private Bennett Brannon, Breck’s brother, is the fallen uncle they named their son after.

Cade bangs his fist on the table again. “Why won’t Breck just let me be?”

“Because, unlike you, she’s not a pussy.”

Cade’s eyes lock onto mine, fury radiating from his very core. He wants to hit me, I can tell.

“Cade, let me tell you what no one else will. You owe it to those families to stand on that fucking stage and take your medal. You owe it to your wife, your kids, and to your fucking self. Will it be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do? Maybe. But your sons and your wife deserve to see you stand up and accept an honor for your service—whether or not you think it heroic—alongside their fallen uncle who was your Marine brother and your wife’sonlybrother. Honor your team. Honorhim. Let Breck honor him.”

“She can. I just can’t be there.” His body has relaxed a fraction since I started talking. “I can’t accept an honor I don’t deserve.”

I sigh and chug the remaining coffee in the cup. “The problem is, Cade, you’re the only one who feels you don’t deserve it.”

“None of you were there,” he snaps. “You have no idea who I was back then.”

“Maybe not,” I agree, sitting up straighter. “But I know you. For the past eleven years, I’ve watched you sacrifice your needs for others: your wife—my wife—and our children. I’ve seen you at your worst—when my wife pulled your homeless, malnourished, hypothermic ass off County Line Rd. I’ve witnessed you mature into a tax-paying adult who swelled up to the size of a buffalo.”

---