"I'm not his dad," I mutter, but the word stirs something inside me.
I always thought having kids is something I'd get around to one day. The military has been my life for so long, and I've never met anyone I wanted to get serious with.
"When the center is built, there's a role for you if you want it." Joel slides a fresh magazine into the chamber. "I'll need guys to run the programs. There are going to be week-long camps forveterans to get them back out using their bodies and building their confidence. I need men who can lead and inspire. It's not as exciting as a SEAL mission, but it's important work."
"I'll lead the skydiving," Marcus says.
"No skydiving." Joel shakes his head. "Sorry buddy. We're doing hiking and outdoor skills."
Marcus makes a face. "I'm not sure it's right for me. Sorry Joel. I'm here for the construction but I don't know what my next move is."
"Don't you have land back in New Zealand?" Joel asks.
Marcus scrunches his face up. "My dad's got a small farm. I don't think growing vegetables is for me though."
Joel turns back to me.
"I'll give your details to the construction company. We'll talk about something more permanent when I'm clear on the programs we're running."
We shake hands, and I leave the range feeling lighter. I have secured a job. I'm one step closer to becoming a regular civilian.
14
ALANA
My phone buzzes in my pocket, setting my heart racing. I don't have to check the screen to know it's Amos. He's called me three times already, and every damn time my stupid heart jumps in my chest and my stomach flutters like a baby bird is stuck in my ribcage. I set the groceries down on the kitchen table too hastily, and the table wobbles on its uneven legs. An apple rolls out of the top of the bag and drops to the floor.
I scoop it up as I answer my phone.
"What does Sam like for breakfast?"
I smile at the anxiousness in his voice. We're handing Sam over to him tomorrow so we can free the space up at the Deacon's, and he's panicking at the new timeline.
"You’ll have to ask him that yourself, but if you get a few boxes of the most popular cereal, you can't go wrong."
"Cereal," Amos repeats. "Protein is better for breakfast."
I press the phone to my ear and unpack my groceries one-handed.
"He's a kid, Amos, not a soldier."
"We're sailors in the Navy," he mutters. "Soldiers are the army."
"Whatever. He's a kid. He won't have the same tastes as you. I can ask the foster family, but you can't go wrong with cornflakes and Rice Krispies."
"I'm not getting any sugar-coated cereal. Kids don't need all that sugar to start their day."
I use my free hand to open the fridge and stuff my apples into the vegetable drawer. "I agree, but don't be too hard on yourself, Amos. The most important thing is that he's fed. Don't beat yourself up if you can't make healthy choices all the time."
He grunts. "I learned nutrition in the Navy; I know how to make healthy choices."
I press my lips together. Healthy choices for a two-hundred-pound Navy guy are going to be a world away from what a six-year-old boy needs, but I don't contradict him. It's good that he's even thinking about nutrition.
"You could figure out a dinner plan for the week. Then you know what you're doing every night. And always have something quick and easy in the freezer for the days when things don't go as expected."
"What might not go as expected?"
There's a new note of panic in his voice, and instead of reassuring him I've given him something else to worry about.
