Page 99 of Trusting a Warrior

Gripping the sides of the ladder, Geo was about to continue his climb when some movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Over at the far end of the yard, near the fence, Cade’s oldest daughter, Ari, was kicking a faded soccer ball into a small net.

He hesitated, one foot still on the rung, wanting to approach her but not sure of his welcome. After all, it’d been so long since he’d seen her...

On the verge of chickening out, he saw Ari glance over her shoulder at him, then quickly look away when she noticed him watching her.

Okay. He had to go through with it now. His heart pounding, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started wandering her direction. What the fuck did he say to a ten-year-old who’d just lost her father?

His “Hey, kiddo” came out as nothing but a hoarse croak, so he cleared it and tried again.

“Hey.” Ari glanced over at him, her blue eyes—so much like Cade’s—holding a wary bitterness that punched Geo right in the gut. “Haven’t seen you in forever.” She snorted. “Uncle Geo.”

He was on the verge of playing it off as if he’d just been busy, when a long-forgotten memory popped into his head—his dad’s visitation, and the hushed, pitying voices whispering stupid euphemisms for death.

He’s dead, okay? He’s not “asleep” or “in a better place.” He’s just fucking dead!

What his eleven-year-old self wouldn’t have given for some simple goddamn honesty. If nothing else, he could offer that to Ari now.

Praying for wisdom, he said, “I know. I’ve been really sad because your dad died.”

Ari froze, then kicked the ball hard into the net.

“I’m sorry. I still should’ve come to see you.” He waited, agonized, but she didn’t reply, her kicks getting harder and more vicious.

Once again, Lani’s words popped into his head. “Asking about him, about the person he was, is always the right thing to say.”

Geo dropped to sit cross-legged on the ground, well out of her line of fire, and watched her for a minute before saying, “I remember once, when you made this awesome game-winning goal, your mom emailed your dad a video of it.”

Ari abruptly put her foot on the ball to stop it, her head cocked in his direction, although she didn’t look at him.

“He showed it to everyone on our base, you know?” he went on. “Whoever walked by got to see it.”

Silence, and then, “Did you see it?”

Chuckling, he said, “At least five times, no lie. Maybe more.”

Ari shrugged, her toe worrying the ball back and forth. “Did he—” She took a deep breath. “What did he say about it?”

What did he say about me?

Her unspoken question lodged in Geo’s throat like a shard of glass. “How proud he was of you. That he knew how hard you’d been practicing to get better. That he—” Despite his best efforts, his voice broke. “That he wished he could’ve been there to see it.”

Ari’s lips tightened, but for the first time, her eyes met his directly. The pain in them almost stopped his heart. “Then why—?”

“I don’t know,” he said with quiet honesty. “I wish I did.”

After a moment, she turned away and resumed her kicking. Instinctively, he stayed put, even as his stomach twisted itself into knots of inadequacy. At last she grunted, “No one wants to talk about him with me. Most people just say stupid shit.”

She flicked another glance at him, as if gauging his reaction to the profanity, but Geo nodded. “I know. I remember getting pissed off about that, too, when my dad died.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Tell you what. Whenever you want to talk about your dad, just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll make sure your mom has my number.”

For one heart-stopping moment, Ari started to smile back, but then it faded, her eyes going blank again. “Sure. Except you’ll be on deployment,” she said flatly. “You’ll be gone all the time, too.”

The truth of it was like a soccer ball to the face. “Not for a while,” he managed. “I’m gonna be home for a little while, you know? We could—would you like to talk now?”

“Nah.” With her foot, she expertly flipped the ball up into her arms and, without another word, walked away.

Geo struggled to his feet and trudged back toward the ladder, the knots in his stomach tightening.

He wouldn’t be here. What the fuck was he thinking? He couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t be what anyone needed.