AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No. That you went to West Point means my initial thought that you were a first or master sergeant was wrong. I’m guessing a lieutenant colonel. I ruled out the 82ndAirborne, but I don’t know what unit you’re with. Maybe PSYOPs.” She eyed him warily.
With writing scripts, had this been an elaborate setup to connect with him? Could she have known he’d be at the homecoming? She could have done research and known about his family. That set him on edge even more. If she’d introduced herself and explained what she needed, there was an extremely high probability he would have turned down her request, but he wouldn’t be doubting her motives now.
But she would have had no way of knowing he’d be at the grill. And she wouldn’t have scooted off without making it a hell of a lot easier to contact her. He needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Close. I’m a colonel.”
Erin’s lips pursed in a tight smile, and she nodded in acknowledgment.
“I’m commander of 3rdGroup.” He didn’t need to elaborate it was 3rdSpecial ForcesGroup. She knew.
“If you had your own Wikipedia page, I might have known that.” Her chest and cheeks flushed, and she couldn’t maintain eye contact. “It’s probably too late to cancel our food order, but I understand if you want to beat a hasty retreat.”
“And why is that?” Would she admit she played him?
“That’s what tends to happen when I mention my writing about Spec Ops guys. The few leads I’ve had all ghosted me after an email or two. The brigadier general in the National Guard, who boasted that he could get me time with a Spec Ops team, handed me off to his first sergeant in charge of training. He replied to one, maybe two, emails. Then nothing. At a USO fundraising luncheon, I met a captain who was a recruiter in Charlotte. I commented about his Airborne patch, and he said he could get me in touch with the right people. I never heard back from two or three emails to him. When I met the Command Sergeant Major of 7thGroup at the Charlotte USO and told him I was a writer, he wouldn’t even tell me his name.”
“How’d you know who he was then?”
“I recognized the Special Forces logo on the challenge coin he gave me for the USO’s collection. The back said Command Sergeant Major USSOCOM. But I didn’t have the nerve to press him since he did an about-face after I mentioned the proposed series.”
A gruff chuckle escaped. That sounded about right. Graham was seeing a pattern, and the way Erin explained had a disarming effect.
“He did assure me that my name isn’t on a military watch list. Not the terrorist suspect kind, but a don’t-talk-to-her-she-might-splash-military-secrets-all-over Netflix list.”
“Have you tried going through official channels?”
“You mean Public Affairs?”
Graham nodded despite her yeah-right expression.
“Yes, when I started writing years ago, and they even had a Public Affairs department for media requests, and again when I started on this TV series. A Special Forces medic I met at the Charlotte USO a few months ago referred me to his Public Affairs Officer. He said SOCOM turned down my research request.”
The server set plates in front of them. “I had the kitchen split the salad for you.”
Erin didn’t touch her utensils.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” the server asked.
“Yes, please,” Graham said.
“You are staying to eat with me?” she asked once the server left.
“It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to leave now.” He’d stay but proceed with caution as he tried to assess the truth.
“I appreciate that. Eating alone has been one of the harder things about being divorced and here.”
“Did you move to Fayetteville to put distance between you and your ex?” He went with her changing the subject.
“No. Nothing like that. As divorces go, ours has been amicable. My ex is a good father and provider. But when COVID hit, it sidelined a huge commercial real estate deal he was brokering. Interest rates went up, and potential buyers pulled out. He used our savings and investments to keep the property afloat without consulting me, thinking everything would get back on track soon. Of course, no one expected the pandemic to last as long as it did or that with the move to working at home, there would be a glut of available office space. Working from home himself, he’d started drinking, and he changed.”
“Oh.” Graham looked at his wine glass.
“I don’t have a problem with somebody having a drink or two. In college, we both drank. But not to excess.”
“But he had a drinking problem?”
“We had a difference of opinion on that. I thought that drinking wine before nine in the morning was a red flag as well as the binge drinking when I’d leave the house. And things like drinking wine out of a coffee mug and hiding empty bottles and cans under things in the recycle bin like I wasn’t smart enough to know what he was doing.” Pain and sadness flicked across her face.
“Those do sound like red flags.”
