Page 19 of Open Secrets
I blink fast, brush his hair off his forehead, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Because sometimes grown-ups cry too, even when they don’t mean to. It’s just… part of life.”
He hugs his dinosaur tight. After a pause: “Is Daddy gonna leave? Like Sanjay’s dad?”
The air leaves me. “Oh, honey.” My throat burns. I slide under the blanket beside him, curling around his small body. He fits against me like he always has, warm and fragile, like something I can still protect. “No. Daddy’s not leaving you.”
“But Sanjay’s daddy left,” he says, muffled into the pillow. “And his mommy cries all the time. She cried in the car when shepicked him up from school. And Sanjay said they had to move, ’cause the house wasn’t theirs anymore.”
I press my face into his hair, blinking hard. “Daddy’s not leaving like that,” I whisper, voice shaking. “He’s right here. We both are. You’re safe.”
“Promise?”
I nod against him, the word burning on my tongue. “Promise.”
His body relaxes by degrees, his breathing evening out as sleep pulls him under. His hand stays curled in the fabric of my shirt, like even in dreams he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
I lie there long after his eyes close, staring into the dark, the weight of my own words pressing down like stone.
I promised him Daddy wasn’t leaving. But promises don’t mean much in a world where men are uniforms before they’re human.
And I don’t know how much longer I can live with that.
Chapter Six
Lyle – Present
“She can’t do this anymore.”
This isn’t the first time she’s said those words. The last time—God, the last time—I felt like I was being crushed, like the ground gave out under me. But this time? This time hurts worse.
At first, I thought she meant the open marriage. And hell, I was fine with ending that. More than fine. The thrill of hooking up with women during downtime on base was never worth the heartache. Not compared to her. But I kept quiet because—well, I didn’t start that mess. I just went along with it.
And now? Now she wants me to quit the Army.
I can’t. It’s my life. It was my father’s life, and his father’s before him. Connelly men have been military men for generations, and we take pride in that. In serving our country.
She can’t see that. Can’t see everything the Army’s given us. This house. This life. The steady pay check that’s kept the lights on, put food on the table.
Yeah, we had to pay out of pocket for Rain’s treatment, but the only reason that pocket was heavy enough to pay is because of—guess what—the Army.
She only looks at what it’s taken. Never what it gave.
But even as I run through every defence I’ve got, I can already feel it—my words aren’t gonna be enough. Not this time. She’s kept so much bottled in for years. Rain getting sick. Her dad’s stroke. My mom and all the bullshit that came with her. She swallows it down, pastes on that smile, and keeps moving like nothing’s wrong.
I’ve been begging her to get help. To talk to someone. To unload some of the weight she still carries.
It’s almost ironic, isn’t it? She’s furious at Markus for burying his feelings, for drowning them in booze and bullshit, but she’s doing the exact same thing. Different mask, same trick.
That’s what she needs—not me standing here defending myself, not another fight. She needs someone she can talk to who won’t end up in the blast radius. Someone neutral. But I can’t drag her to a therapist, can’t make her sit on that couch. Not alone, anyway.
An idea starts to form, half desperate, half wild.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, thumb hovering for a second before I press down. The dial tone hums, then clicks, and I start talking to the voicemail of the only number I can think of.
“Hey,” I say, voice low, rougher than I mean it to be. “It’s Lyle. I… I think I need your help with Maria.”
After the call, I sit there waiting, phone heavy in my hand, but Maria never comes back. The fight still buzzes in my veins, but exhaustion drags me under.
I wake to the shrill tone of my ringtone slicing through the dark. Groaning, I fumble for the phone. “What?” My voice is thick, sleep still heavy on me.
