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I rubbed my temples. “Jordan.”
“Zachary.”
“You don’t even know this guy. He sounds like a predator.”
“You think everyone’s a predator. Now, hurry up and shower so I can get one in too before Grayson wakes up. You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?”
I didn’t. I was big on first impressions, and the last thing I wanted to do was show up late on my first day. Fighting the urge to continue arguing with her, since she clearly didn’t get my point, I went into my room and straight to the bathroom. This conversation definitely wasn’t over.
At a minimum, I at least wanted to get the guy’s last name and do a little internet stalking before he became my sister’s daily running buddy. She could call me overprotective all she wanted, but that was my job. If not just for her sake, but also for Grayson’s. My son had already lost his mother. I’d die before I let anything happen to anyone else he cared about.
* * *
When I got back to Bluffton after checking into my new unit, I was eager to get home and change out of my long-sleeved service alphas. No matter what your job in the Marine Corps, your first day wasn’t spent doing your actual job. Instead, you’d take a tour around the base, visiting all the offices you’d likely need to visit while stationed there, and get signatures from the people working there to prove you’d located them.
Tomorrow, I’d trade the olive-green dress uniform for my cammies and a bullet-proof vest. I’d ride around the base with one of the watch commanders of a different platoon before I took my position leading my own. After that, I’d get squared away with the guys I’d be working with on a daily basis and learn the inner workings of how the provost marshal office ran on this base compared to my previous ones. PMO from base to base were largely the same, but each had its own unique language and flow of operations.
One of the major adjustments I’d need to make held life-or-death stakes. Every base used different police radio codes, so one base might say 10-1 into the radio to let them know there was a weak signal and they didn’t copy, while another might use that code to mean the officer needed assistance. Or 10-32 could mean there was a man with a gun at one base and a defective traffic light at another. Those were very different meanings for the same codes, so getting the new ones memorized as soon as possible was key.
As challenging as it was to adapt to a new unit, I was ready, and more than capable. I’d grown up thinking I wanted to be a cop, so I started that process right out of high school, registering for college to study criminal justice. It often took years for applicants to make it into the academy for one reason or another, so I figured earning a degree would be a good use of my time while I went through that process with multiple local departments.
Though it had been a solid plan, at the end of my freshman year, a Marine recruiter gave me his spiel about PMO with the Marines. It sounded like a sweet gig and meant I’d get to start my career in law enforcement right away. I’d already been trying to join the civilian force for a year at that point, and who knew how much longer it would take to get in? I’d signed up on the spot. Ten years later, I was a sergeant and watch commander, leading a platoon of my own at my fourth duty station.
Just as I turned onto Main Street, a woman in tight black workout leggings and a purple tee caught my eye. It didn’t even take me a full second to realize it was Layla. I pulled into the first parking spot I found and hopped out, moving more on instinct than anything else.
“Hey,” I said, falling into step with her as she walked down the sidewalk.
She jumped slightly at my sudden appearance, then her gaze slid over me. “Wow, you look fancy. Since when do MPs wear that kind of uniform?”
“It was just for today. How are you?”
“Um, fine. How are you?”
“Good. Excited to meet my team tomorrow.”
Her steps faltered, then she stopped, turning to face me. “Zac, what are you doing?”
“Talking to you.”
“I gathered that. But why?”
I let out a short laugh. “Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you ghosted me three years ago, and I haven’t heard a peep from you since. Why the sudden interest in talking to me?”
She had me there. Layla might know about Grayson now, but we still hadn’t talked about why exactly I’d left without telling her anything about him. She didn’t know what that had done to me and how much I’d thought about her since. She didn’t know I still loved her. So, of course, this seemed like a weird, sudden interest. But it was far from it.
“We have a lot more to talk about,” I said, holding her gaze. “What are you doing tonight? Can we grab a bite?”
“I can’t.”
“Do you have plans?”
“No. But I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to talk.”
“Why not?”
She lifted her arms and then let them fall in frustration. “Because I’m mad at you, Zac. Because you hurt me. And then you waltzed back into town, introduced me to your son, and now you’re acting like we can just chitchat and have dinner like none of that is a big deal.”
