Page 58 of We Thought We Knew It All
I was only in there for a moment before a man in an expensive suit joined me. He couldn’t have been more than ten years my senior.
“James.” He grinned, sticking out his hand.
I took it. “Mr. Carr?”
“Oh please, call me Garret. Let’s get started, shall we?”
It turned out that Sergeant Carlson had talked me up quite a bit, even going so far as to call me a weapons expert. I had no idea he thought so highly of me.
The job was an exciting one. A team was being put together to overhaul the training program in certain firearms at Fort Benning. Most of the team would be working out of the Tampa office, but they also needed someone in Georgia working with officers there.
He asked me a lot of questions, mostly about my service, and then shocked me by offering me the Georgia position.
“Forgive me for being skeptical,” I said. “But are you sure I’m qualified?”
“Carlson seems to think you are.” Garret leaned forward. “Let me tell you something. I was special forces right alongside that man. I trust his judgment above most anything.” He leaned back. “So, do you want the job?”
The thought of going back to Fort Benning, to my men, excited me. I wasn’t going to lie about that. When I was told I couldn’t re-enlist, the only thing I wanted was a way to stay.
But in just a few short months, everything changed. Could I just go?
I was mad as hell at Callie. I wasn’t even sure I could forgive her, but what happened if it turned out Jackson really was mine.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked.
“Of course. The project doesn’t start for another month but most of the team has already started preliminary work.”
We both stood and shook hands once more.
As I climbed back into my truck, I had no idea what I was going to do.
23
Callie
Hitting send was frightening when your e-mail included a new book that could affect your friends in such a huge way. No one had read it yet and my editor wanted the first few chapters soon. She didn’t know I’d finished the entire thing. But it wasn’t her I sent it to, not yet. Morgan got to read it first. She was still in town with her husband and I’d written like crazy to get a draft to her while she was here.
I hadn’t slept much lately, but my mind felt lighter than ever as I stared at the final words on the screen, hoping the direction I’d gone in was the right one. Putting the story down had been good for me and I only hoped reading it would be good for everyone else.
It’d turned into something I hadn’t expected. It was a story of kids who didn’t yet know the consequences of their actions. Matthew, the shooter, had been a victim as much as anyone.
It was an ode to the victim in all of us.
I breathed out, shutting the lid of my laptop, and walking out into the living room where my father was watching a movie with the boys.
Along with Dylan, he’d decided to stay until the results came in. None of us knew what they’d mean for Jackson and we all wanted to be there. I smiled at the sight of him curled up with Declan on the couch.
A crack of thunder shook the house. It’d been raining all day. My father helped at the restaurant until we both left to pick up the boys. We were making great progress and opening day was just around the corner.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I answered it without looking at the screen, hoping I’d hear Jamie’s voice on the other end.
It wasn’t him.
“California,” Scott, a publicist who worked for my publisher said. “I’m glad I could reach you.”
“Hi, Scott. What can I do for you?” I walked back into the kitchen.
“I know what you’re going to say to this, but we’d like you to do an interview.”
