AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So would I,” Callum said. He shifted and reached into his jeans pocket. “I’ve got something for you.” He took out a small round brass tin and handed it to Jack.
The tin was a bit battered and scratched but had obviously been cleaned and polished. There was an engraved pattern on the top and a maker’s stamp on the bottom. Jack flicked the clasp, and it popped open to reveal an old compass.
“It was my dad’s,” Callum said. “I took it with me on all my missions. It brought me luck.”
Jack couldn’t help but grin. “Callum, you lost your legs on a mission.”
“Aye, but losing my legs led me to your mother. And to you and your sister. That’s bloody good luck; there’s no denying it.” He cleared his throat. “My advice? Keep it in the pocket over your heart. Maybe it will stop a bullet.”
“Kind of hoping the flak jacket will do that.”
“Son, a flak jacket isn’t a bulletproof vest, I thought I’d taught you that.”
Jack grinned to let Callum know he was messing with him.
“Anyway,” Callum said with a matching grin. “You can’t engrave a flak jacket.”
Jack’s eyes snapped back to the compass, and there on the inside of the lid were three names: Donal, Callum, Jack. Beside each name was a date, and Jack immediately recognized the one next to his—the day he’d start his army training.
“No last names,” Callum said. “That can get you into trouble in some places.”
He nodded. “No. Last names would be bad.” His hand wrapped tight around the cold metal case. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Callum just nodded, and they stared back out across the city for a minute.
“I got you something too,” Jack said. “Gimme a minute to get it.”
He scrambled across the roof, ducked behind Callum, and back through the window into his room. As usual, everything was neatly in place. He wasn’t sure if his urge to keep things orderly was from years of having very little or from being around military types so much. Either way, it was easy to find what he wanted. A minute later, he climbed back out onto the tiled roof and sat beside Callum.
“Here.” He thrust the gift at him.
Callum took it
with a look of confusion. “This is your passport. You’re going to need that, son.”
“Just look inside.” Nerves made Jack’s stomach clench, and his palms became clammy enough for him to rub them on his jeans. Although he didn’t want to watch Callum open the passport, he couldn’t tear his eyes from him either.
And because he was staring right at the man, he didn’t miss the jolt that passed through Callum’s body when he flicked to the page with Jack’s details on it.
“Bloody hell,” he said, sounding strangled. “When?”
Jack ran a hand down his face and swallowed hard. “Couple of months ago. By deed poll. I was just waiting for my passport to turn up to show you.”
“Bloody hell,” Callum repeated, still staring down at the passport as it shook in his hand.
“Is it…” Jack cleared his throat. “Is it okay? You’re not mad, or anything?”
“What?” Callum’s chin lifted, and his eyes met Jack’s. “Best bloody gift ever.” He shook his head as his eyes pooled. “Best. Right up there with your mother saying I do. And news of the baby. Best bloody gift.”
“Good. Good.” Jack nodded and blinked several times. “I wasn’t sure…you know…I guess, I thought, maybe I should have asked first.”
“No.” Callum’s arm shot out, and he clasped the nape of Jack’s neck. “You didn’t need to ask. I don’t just call you son because I’m decades older. I call you son because that’s what you are to me. That’s what you’ll always be. Even if your mother and I, God forbid, ever split up, you will still be my son. So this”—he waved the passport—“this is bloody perfect.” He looked back down at the passport, sniffed and grinned. “Jack McKay sounds good, eh?”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed.
Callum’s hand flexed on Jack’s neck as he looked back up at him. “Thank you for this gift. I love you, son.” He tugged Jack forward and wrapped and arm around him, pounding his back in a firm hug.
“I love you too,” Jack whispered, “…Dad.”
