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“Jesus Christ, son. Are you okay? I've been worried sick.”

The relief in his voice nearly broke me. “I'm okay. I'm sorry I haven't called.”

“Four years, Graham. Four goddamn years without a word.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Are you hurt? Sick? In trouble?”

“No, Dad. Nothing like that.”

“Then what the hell happened? You disappear from my life without explanation, and I'm supposed to just accept that?” That was a tone I remembered.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “I fucked up a mission. Lost three good men.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different.

“When?”

“It was the last mission before I got out.”

“That explains it.” He said it like he was talking to himself. Then he added, “Can you tell me about it?” Dad's voice was soft.

“Some.”

I started talking, and my dad listened. He occasionally interrupted me, but mostly just let me get everything off my chest.

“Is that everything, son?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“How is Kent doing?”

“Last time I checked, he was out of rehab.”

“What do you mean, last time you checked? You haven’t talked to him?”

“How could I? I failed him, Dad.”

“That’s a load of horseshit. You were the team leader, not God. You couldn’t have done any better than you did. You saved Kent’s life. He probably wonders what he did wrong to have you ignore him.” There was a pause. “Just like I have.”

Damn, those words landed hard.

“How do you know it wasn't my fault?”

“Because I've spent thirty years in leadership positions. I've sent good men into bad situations and watched some of them not come home. It's the worst part of the job, but it's still the job. And the fact that you've been carrying this guilt for four years tells me everything I need to know about the kind of leader you were.”

All this time, I'd been terrified of his disappointment, and he'd already figured out the truth.

“I should have called sooner.”

“Yes, you should have. But you're calling now, and that's what matters.”

I could hear him moving around, probably pacing his study the way he always did when he was thinking through a problem.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught me off guard. “What? Like a psychologist? No.”