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Rhett, the most clueless of us all, took a long drink of water and cleared his throat. “So, did you know Tina’s husband?”
Hattie and Bella sighed in unison while I glared at my dumbass brother.
My phone chimed, giving me the perfect excuse to ignore the question. I pulled it out of my pocket and clicked on the text from Tina.
Tina: I’m convinced slime was created to torture parents.
Tina: *GIF of woman banging head against a wall*
Tina: But it kept Teddy occupied for almost an hour today, so I’d call that a win. And my kitchen is spotless now.
Another message came through from Seabass.
SB: Hey man, got a min?
My chair scraped along the patio as I pushed it back and stood.
“I need to take this.” I held up my phone and bent to place a quick kiss on my mom’s cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”
I nodded to the rest of the family and walked toward the guest house before dialing Seabass.
“Hey,” he said when the call connected.
“What’s up?”
“Nick said the interview went well. He wants to bring you out here next month. Give you a tour, meet the team. I told him I’d give you a call and get a read on what you thought.”
“Just tell me when, and I’m there.”
“I figured.”
My phone vibrated with another incoming message.
I glanced at it, seeing a new text notification from Tina.
I put the phone back to my ear. “Can I ask you a question?” The conversation that had just gone down with my family was still fresh in my mind.
“Go for it.”
“Have you ever spent time with the family of someone you couldn’t save?”
“You know I’m around Morgan all the time, right?”
“No, I meant someone whose death you feel responsible for.” I pushed the door to the guest house open and stepped inside.
“Wait. You still think Hughes’s death was your fault?”
Seabass and I had gone through this almost two years ago, shortly after it happened. I deployed once more after that—and ended up being sent home with a gunshot wound to the leg—and thought I had put the guilt behind me. Or at least out of the forefront of my mind. It wasn’t until Tina showed up in town two months ago that it all came flooding back.
“Isn’t it, though? If my team had gotten to them sooner, or if I’d caught the internal injuries sooner…maybe.” I headed to the kitchen for a beer but stopped at the sight of the chaos. Dishes were piled up in the sink, and the counters were cluttered. A pan from yesterday’s breakfast still sat on the stove.
“It’s just as likely that it wouldn’t have changed the outcome, though. You know that.”
Probability was exactly that. One small adjustment could drastically change the outcome. But I’d never know for sure.
After a long moment, Seabass let out a sigh. “Have you been talking to someone about this?”
He had suggested I seek therapy two years ago after Hughes died. It wasn’t that I was against it. I’d just never prioritized it.
