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I have so many questions. But I settle on the most basic one. “What made you decide to join the Army?”
“Well…” He shifts on the couch so he’s facing me. “I grew up in a small town not too far from here. You know where Salem is?”
“Yes, of course. I went through there once on my way to Vermont.” And my mind is blown that Rylan grew up that close to me, just about thirty miles away.
“So, I never really traveled—just some school field trips, football games, but nothing far away. It was just my dad and I for a long time, and he was busy with his auto repair business, so there just wasn’t the time or money to go on vacations.”
My question slips out. “Just you and your dad?” And that is definitely too personal of a question.
But Rylan doesn’t seem to mind. A little frown crosses his face, and he says, “My mom and my older sister were killed in a car crash when I was ten. Headed to a dance recital, a drunk driver…” He drifts off.
My heart wrenches. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Rylan.” My hand is on his leg before I realize what I’m doing, and oh! It’s so muscular and firm and… I give myself a mental slap. Stop it. And why is my hand still on his leg?
I whip my hand away, inwardly cringing.
After a pause, he says, “Thank you. It’s been a long time now, but I still miss them.”
Leaning forward, he grabs his bottle of water and takes a swig. “It’s not that my dad and I don’t get along. We do. But I wanted more than living in Salem, working in his shop. I wanted to travel, to do something meaningful. I wanted to help people. So, when the Army recruiter came to my high school, the things he told me fit what I wanted. And that was it.”
“What about the Green Berets?”
“I had been in the Army for four years, and I was trying to decide what to do next. I could have gone to college and become an officer, stayed as an enlisted soldier, or tried to join Special Forces. After learning more about the Green Berets—small teams, specialized missions, working with foreign allies—it sounded like the best fit.”
I’m fascinated by this career path that’s so different from mine. Leaning closer, I bump knees with Rylan, but he doesn’t flinch or move away. “I read about some of the training. It sounds incredibly hard.”
His mouth curves into a smile. “Yeah, it was hard. First, a six-week prep course, then assessment and selection, and over a year of Special Forces training. And I took the sniper qualification course, so that was an additional seven weeks later on.”
“Aha!” I crow. “So that’s why you’re so good at Call of Duty!”
Rylan’s eyes flash a brilliant green. “Busted.”
“So did you like it? Being a Green Beret?”
“I did.” His expression goes thoughtful. “I was with the same team for seven years. All the guys—and Nora—that make up Blade and Arrow. So I’m lucky in that sense, even after I left the military, I still get to be with my teammates.”
“How long ago did you leave?”
His eyes shutter, and I immediately feel like crap. “I’m sorry.” I’m backpedaling. “I got carried away with questions. I’ll stop.” And I probably just ruined our evening, too.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Rylan pats my arm, his touch gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… it’s a tough memory. But we all have those. I left five years ago—I had to be medically discharged due some injuries I suffered during a mission. But then I joined Blade and Arrow four years ago, and I’m really happy there.”
Injured? Badly enough to not serve anymore? My gut clenches, rolling over sickeningly. Not Rylan. I can’t stand the thought of him hurting.
Instinctively, I lunge forward and hug him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Rylan. But thank you so much for your service. And I’m so sorry you got hurt.”
He freezes for a moment, and I think, what am I doing? He doesn’t want me hugging him. Abort, reverse, fix this somehow.
“Ah, Charlie.” His arms come around me, gently squeezing. And, oh my, I think this could be the best hug I’ve ever had.
After a few seconds, he releases me, and I sit back while sternly commanding my pulse to slow down. I’m flustered and I don’t want him to see how that affected me, so I desperately cast about for a diversion. “Ask me a question.”
“Hmm?” Rylan’s brow jumps up. “A question?”
“I mean,” I amend, “I just asked you a bunch of questions. So if you wanted to ask me, you could.” Why am I assuming he wants to ask me stuff? “If you wanted to. Or… not.”
Wow. That was spectacularly awkward.
A corner of his mouth pulls up. “I’d love to put you on the hot seat. But then again, you’re the attorney. Isn’t that your job?”
