Page 95 of Missing Pieces (Men of Manhattan 3)

"Someone do something! He has four months! Do something!"

"Oh, Hailey." Anna tried to embrace me in a hug but I brushed past her.

"Dad." I grabbed his hand again. "Dad, wake up."

"Miss Shaw, the time of death was..."

"No. Please. Dad. You can't leave me." I squeezed his hand. "I need you. Daddy I need you. Please." Someone touched my shoulder and this time I didn't push them off.

There were so many things I hadn't gotten to say. I held his hand even tighter and leaned my forehead against his arm. I love you. You were all I ever needed. You were enough for me too. I couldn't seem to stop my sobbing. I saw the Grand Canyon, Dad. And the Pacific Ocean. I faced my fears. And I fell in love with a boy. I opened my heart just like you wanted me to. But I'd take it all back. I'd redo all of it if I could have one more week with you.

Chapter 50

Tyler

Friday

My stomach was twisted in knots. I was terrified. But for the first time since I had enlisted, I felt a small amount of excitement too. The reasons I had signed up were real. I wanted my grandfather to be proud of me. I wanted my dad to be proud of the person that I had become. I could do all that here. Even though a piece of me was in Indiana, I needed to do this. I didn't regret my choice to enlist. And I could survive this. I would fight and I would come home. For Hails. For my mom. For myself.

I took a deep breath and pushed through the front doors. There were a few men sitting behind a desk along the far side of the wall. I looked around the room. No one else was in sight. I walked over to them.

"Name?" one of them asked without looking up. He started thumbing through his clipboard.

"Tyler Stevens."

He immediately looked up at me and glanced at the man sitting next to him. He cleared his throat and set the clipboard down on top of the desk. "Right, we've been expecting you." He opened up a drawer in the desk and pulled out a file with my name on it. "Follow me, please." He stood up and started walking down a hallway.

I almost had to jog to keep up with him.

He opened up a door and gestured for me to go inside. "If you don't mind taking a seat, someone will be right with you."

"Of course." I stepped inside.

The man immediately closed the door and I swear I heard it lock. I grabbed the handle and, sure enough, it wouldn't budge. I looked back at the room. There was an empty metal desk in the middle of the room and two chairs, one on either side of it. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought I was in an interrogation room. Maybe I was. Maybe this was their way of intimidating recruits or something. I should have done some research this morning about what to expect. Instead I had spent the day trying to remind myself that I had made the right decision. Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself that I hadn't made the biggest mistake of my life.

After a few minutes of standing by the door, I walked over to one of the chairs and sat down.

***

"Tyler Stevens?"

I lifted my head off the desk. I had completely lost all sense of time. But my neck hurt and my back was stiff. I must have fallen asleep. I cleared my throat. "Yes?" This wasn't what I had been expecting at all. I immediately stood up when he didn't respond. I'm supposed to do that, right?

He eyed me coolly. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Williams."

I thought he might shake my hand but he continued to size me up. I just stood there awkwardly.

"Please, sit down."

I guess I wasn't supposed to stand. I sat back down in the metal chair under his scrutiny.

He opened up the file with my name on it. "Tyler Stevens." His eyes darted across the page. "Current residence of New York City. You grew up in Delaware. One living parent. No siblings. Not in a relationship. You are the perfect candidate for the Marine Corps."

Why did he sound so angry? "That's good, right?"

"It would be. Except for the fact that we obviously do background checks." He ripped the file with my name on it in half and tossed it into the trash as he sat down across from me at the table.

"What are you talking about?"

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