September 6th, 2024
Leighton Watts
“Fridays are the best!” Alex exclaimed. “Hi, Mr. Donovan! May I have a small piece of the lasagna and a slice of cheese pizza, please?”
“Anything for you, kiddo.”
She was popular in the cafeteria.
We filled our trays, and she even accepted a bowl of vegetables without fussing. I’d taught her it was important to balance the good with the bad that was so delicious.
Then we found a table in the back because we both liked a semblance of peace and quiet.
“Why are you limping, Nugget?”
“Ask Miguel. He’s mean.” I sat down and moved her glass of milk from my tray to hers. Carrying liquids across the cafeteria wasn’t her strong suit. “Or he’s just better at martial arts than me.”
Alex looked at me seriously. “You can take him. Next time.”
I grinned and dumped my salad over my lasagna. “I might need a while longer before I can defeat him.”
“Next time,” she repeated.
Yikes.
“Do your homework,” I told her. “Beckett’s gonna check it at three.”
She huffed and retrieved a wrinkled piece of paper from her little backpack. It’d been folded four times for some reason. “I thought we were gonna call him Mr. Crankypants.”
Either that or raging fucking asshole, but I was trying to limit my swearing around Alex. In addition, that was just my wounded ego talking. Beckett was perfectly professional and courteous. What I happened to want was merely…fewer polite smiles and more fuck my throat raw, rail me like there’s no tomorrow, and kiss me breathless .
“We should probably cut him some slack,” I said begrudgingly. “He’s working hard. Besides, I hear he’s taking you fishing soon. That’ll be fun.”
They could go off on another day trip, and I’d be…here.
“There you are.” Speak of the devil. It was embarrassing how quickly my brain reacted to the sound of his voice.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him heading over. He hadn’t taken any warm food, just an apple.
“Will you accept a secret mission, Alex?” he asked.
Alex perked up immediately.
Beckett sat down at the head of the table and leaned in, all conspiratorially, much to Alex’s amusement.
He detached his ID card from the clip on his belt. “I want you to take a pudding cup to Danny’s office.” He slid her the ID card. “Leave it outside the door, knock three times, and then run back here. Take the stairs so you don’t have to wait for the elevator—you’ll blow your cover. And remember, you gotta swipe the card in the stairwell on his floor.”
My mouth twitched. Little Alex Beckett couldn’t care less about playgrounds and ponies. She was here for the secret missions. For chrissakes, her doll was an operator.
“I accept.” Alex grabbed the ID card and slid off her chair. “What flavor? There’s chocolate and tapioca.”
“Tapioca. He hates that.” Beckett nodded firmly. “You’ve got this, operator. The future of Hillcroft depends on this. Do not get caught.”
“Eeep!” She broke out a full-fledged grin, her excitement shining through, and then she was off. She ran over to the food counters and grabbed a pudding cup before she sprinted for the exit.
“That should give us five minutes,” Beckett said. I glanced back at him as he bit off a chunk of the apple and sat down in Alex’s seat. “Are you ready to shit your pants?”
I felt my eyebrows lift. “Um.”
He shook his head and took another bite of his apple—which was highly distracting, by the way. That wasn’t supposed to be sexy.
“I’ll ask you this first,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “Do you know any of the names of your dad’s siblings?”
What the—why would he… I mean…
“Uh.” Fuck, get it together! Right. I cleared my throat and tried to focus. “Sure. Um. Ethan, Elise, Darius?—”
“I fucking knew it,” he chuckled and smacked the table. “It’s actually true. Leighton, Darius Quinn is one of the best operators we’ve ever had. He used to work here—his brother too. Ryan. You have Hillcroft family.”
Wait, what? No, but—no. “Darius runs a seafood restaurant,” I argued.
Beckett smiled. “He didn’t always do that. He actually worked with my brother a few times. I’ve met him too.”
I sat up straighter, and I didn’t know what to think, what to say, how to react. Beckett had met with my dad’s brother? Holy shit.
He went on to explain how the revelation had unraveled downstairs earlier, with Beckett piecing things together with one of Shay’s partners, a Reese Tenley who also knew Darius, apparently…
The more he talked, the more my stomach grew tight with unease. Operator Rose…? Also knew Darius. Coach? Knew him. And Darius’s brother Ryan. Everybody fucking knew the Quinns around here, except me.
Like the flip of a switch, my mind was pulled in two different directions. One part of me wanted to cry my eyes out in jealousy. They knew these men. They knew my dad’s family. They had memories of them—and I didn’t. Meanwhile, the other side of me was ready to run for the hills, ’cause this was too much, too fast, too close . They were too close. What if they found out about me? What if they got angry? What if they thought I was a lunatic stalker? What if they had me kicked out of Hillcroft’s recruit program? I’d have nothing left.
I was building something here. I hadn’t appreciated it properly yet, or comprehended it, but now that I sensed the risk of losing everything, it terrified me. I’d gone out with Tanner and Riley. I’d suffered through nightclub music just to show I could be social. I’d exchanged fucking pleasantries in an attempt to make friends. Gabriella was now my study partner. I liked to spar with Miguel. We hit the gym together almost every morning. We battled it out on the mat, and then we worked out separately but close enough so that others didn’t approach to fucking chitchat. Luckily, there wasn’t much of that going on at Hillcroft, but Tanner needed a leash occasionally. Or to be told to heel.
Last but not least, I’d never see Alex again. She was so fucking cool. Like a tiny adult. She’d so clearly been raised by a father who couldn’t spell baby talk or had the patience for princess shit. Like, she loved her dolls, but they were special forces, cops, and pilots. Except for the doll she called Lydia. Lydia was a farmer, like her grandparents on her mom’s side.
All this could go away.
I swallowed dryly and felt a pressure spreading across my chest, and I wanted to tell Beckett to shut the fuck up, but no words came out. He was still talking—wait. Was he on the phone? Why couldn’t I hear him?
I blinked hard and sucked in a breath?—
“Yeah, right about now—she’ll knock and try to run away,” he was saying. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” He ended the call and stood up. “Let’s go find a quiet place, pup.” He cupped my elbow and ushered me out of my seat, and I couldn’t fucking function. Not consciously anyway. I followed him on autopilot as the edges of my vision went darker and blurrier.
My fingers tingled like when my leg sometimes fell asleep, and with a single shot of panic, my pulse went through the roof, and I broke out in a cold sweat. What the fuck was happening? Escape, escape, escape. Beckett ushered me into the stairwell, and I gulped in some air. Not enough . Oh fuck. I had to get out of here—I had to be alone . This was… It was a panic attack, wasn’t it? I’d had a couple of those in the Army, but they’d felt different. They’d been centered around grief and losing Mom.
This was fine. A panic attack wasn’t going to kill me. I was okay. Nothing was wrong. It would pass. I’d just focus on one step at a time. Gray walls, Beckett’s utility pants, random Caps sticker on the wall, concrete stairs, Alex’s backpack in Beckett’s hand.
“I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like this,” I heard him say. “I’m sorry.”
I tried to swallow, and I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
We were almost there. Few more steps. Echoes from farther above from other employees.
“Lemme give you a head start on a class that starts in a couple of months,” Beckett told me. “Address a paper cut before it turns into an infected wound. You’re not fine, Leighton—and you trying to convince me that you are makes you unreliable in the field. Come on—in through your nose.” He stopped me in front of the door to our floor, and he grasped me by my shoulders. “I’m canceling the rest of your day. We’re gonna have a little one-on-one, you and I.”
Was that a promise or a threat? They were good at blurring those lines at Hillcroft.
“Hey, look at me, recruit.”
I snapped my gaze to his, and I got confused. I’d thought I was already looking at him, but clearly not, and this wasn’t much of an improvement. My focus was off, and I was looking without seeing.
Concentrate.
I sucked another breath in through my mouth, unable to use my nose. My breathing was too labored—and shallow. At the same time, something fucking broke inside me because I couldn’t even shatter properly. Even with panic tinting my senses, a part of me was devoid of emotion. I stood there stoically and stared unseeingly at Beckett, whose face was more expressive than anything I felt on the inside. His blue-green eyes flashed with concern, and he had that furrow between his brows. He was trying to figure me out as usual. Like he did with all recruits—but I guessed I was more difficult on account of my being a fucking zombie.
The next breath came a little easier.
“You have a choice,” he said quietly. “Either you tell me everything right now, or we go to Doc’s office. But you and I are still spending the day together both before and after a session with him.”
Fuck that, I wasn’t talking to Doc more than I had to. He was like…quiet and calm and a pro at waiting people out, but he also had this knack for making me talk without wanting it, not unlike Beckett. But at least with Beckett, he couldn’t diagnose me.
I feared there would come a day some professional labeled me a psychopath or something.
I swallowed hard and remembered something Beckett said earlier.
“I’m not unreliable,” I croaked.
He didn’t let go of my shoulder or change his stance. He was still hunching his posture to be face-to-face.
“Then you gotta open up,” he murmured. “Taking on too much or saying things are fine when they’re not don’t make you a hero. That’s not strength. It’s why I told you to come to me the moment things become too much with watching Alex.” He paused briefly. “It may seem like an insignificant thing, but everything that stresses you out needs to be addressed. If your plate is full, anything you add next is at risk of falling off. And in here, that might not be an issue—but out in the field? It could be a matter of life and death.”
Goddamn him, that couldn’t fucking compare.
“I don’t operate the same way in here as I would during an assignment,” I said.
“No, but you show people who you are, no matter the environment,” he replied. “If I give you ten assignments and it’s three too many, what do you think is best? That you perform all of them under duress and do a half-assed job, or that you come out and tell me you can only do seven of them—and you do them damn well. Which of these options would make a coworker relax and trust you? Rely on you ?”
Fuck. I dropped my stare and swallowed again.
Screw him for making sense. That was the worst.
“I hear you,” I mumbled. I exhaled shakily and was finally able to inhale through my nose. My heart rate was returning to normal. “But for the record, I haven’t taken on too much.”
“That may be. I only brought this up because you said you were fine when you’re clearly a train wreck.”
I snapped my gaze up and narrowed my eyes, only to catch him smirking at me.
Bastard!
“Now, let’s go talk,” he said, opening the door. “Alex will lose track of time in Danny’s office, so we have a couple hours to start with.” He gestured for me to go first, and I crossed the hallway and walked into the library, presuming we were heading for the dorms. They were through this section.
“You really love your counseling and talking about feelings in this place,” I grumbled.
“We really love preventing long-term PTSD,” he corrected. “I’ll be the first to admit I hate sitting in Doc’s chair, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see the purpose of it. This isn’t the military. We can’t afford our own VA services that cost money without offering actual aid, so we gotta nip that shit in the bud instead. Counseling is mandatory for every active operator, and the sessions are automatically increased before and after deployments, depending on the nature of the assignment.”
I huffed. That sounded horrible.
“I think it’s bad enough that you make me sing like a fucking canary,” I muttered.
Beckett chuckled, and we headed down the hallway of operators’ units.
I wiped my forehead and let out another big breath, glad the clamminess was disappearing too.
“We’ll use your place,” he said. “Unless you want fresh air. You might want more of an open space after an anxiety attack.”
I didn’t care. I also wasn’t sure I knew the difference between a panic attack and an anxiety attack. Instinctively, it felt like panic was sharper and hit more suddenly, whereas anxiety could sit on your chest for ages and build up slowly until the pressure became too much to bear. But the two kind of walked hand in hand most of the time, right?
I punched in my personal code and opened the door to my unit, and Beckett walked in first.
He surveyed the room for a moment, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he lost some tension in his shoulders. Would he have freaked out if my place had been messy? He’d mentioned being tidy. Also, maybe not freak out. He didn’t strike me as a freak-out kind of man.
One side of my room had a sofa and a coffee table, with the little kitchenette in the right corner, and then my bed and a closet on the other side. It was perfect for me.
The sofa was on the small side, though, so when Beckett sat down there, I eyed my bed. I’d sit there.
“Um, do you want something to drink?” I opened my fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “I have water and Sprite Zero.”
“Water’s fine.”
I grabbed him a bottle too, and I tossed it to him on my way to the bed.
“Thanks. So, let’s discuss why the news of your family made you react that way,” he said.
Jesus, he didn’t even lube up first.
I blew out a breath and sat down, and I kicked off my shoes. “I feel bad for the women you date. You gotta ease into things.”
He uncapped the water. “I feel bad for them too, but for other reasons.” He took a swig and eyed me a little. “But fine.” He set the bottle on the empty table—except for the remote to my luxurious, huge eighteen-inch flat-screen on the wall. A remote he adjusted so it was aligned with the edge of the table, by the way. “You want foreplay? When you mentioned water and Sprite Zero, it crossed my mind for the hundredth time that your habits don’t match the usual soldier. No tobacco, no energy drinks, no alcohol… There. Enough chitchat?”
I actually had smoked. In Germany. Like, twice. “There was no chit for chat. You only chitted. If I don’t chat back, it’s just a chitshow.”
“Jesus Christ.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and huffed a chuckle, presumably at my awesome sense of humor. “This is next-level dad jokes.”
I grinned. “Dad jokes are fun.”
He harrumphed and shook his head in amusement. “My brother thought so too.”
Clearly, he’d been a genius.
Maybe the mention of Vince caused the humor to seep out of the room. Regardless, it was a good time to get back on track; I just didn’t want to. I wanted to avoid the topic for as long as I cou?—
“The Quinns are your family, Leighton.”
This did not qualify as avoiding the topic.
I cleared my throat, set my water on the nightstand, and pulled my feet up on the bed.
“They’re not, though,” I muttered.
“Yeah. They are,” he responded slowly. “And now that we know who they are as people…? Pup, they would never reject you. Darius might come off as a stoic, antisocial hermit, but last I heard, he had three kids and a husband.”
I glanced at him. “He’s gay?”
He lifted his brows. “Well, I don’t think he’s straight.”
Huff. Very funny.
I dropped my stare again.
“Same could be said about his brother,” he went on. “Ryan’s a fun guy. The life of the party and one hell of a jarhead and sniper. And he lives with his wife and their boyfriend. And a bunch of kids.”
Damn.
I chewed on my lip. I’d certainly never seen any of that on social, and Ryan’s wife was one of the few who was open in public. She did post a lot of photos of children, except she always put emojis over their faces.
“My question is why you panicked in the cafeteria,” Beckett said. “We’ve talked about your old man’s family before. Was it the timing? The fact that several of us here know them? The subject matter on its own isn’t enough.”
I rubbed my forehead. Just like all the other times he’d asked me something I was uncomfortable with, I knew I was going to answer, and it annoyed me. Why did he need to know everything? On the other hand, what it boiled down to was how fucking pathetic I was, because if I told him I didn’t wanna talk about it, he’d shrug, say something mentor-like, and walk away. Or, even worse, he’d stay and just wait me out like Doc. Beckett wasn’t one to punish someone by leaving.
I wasn’t stupid. I understood it was in my best interest to be honest.
It just sucked.
Embrace the suck, soldier.
Ugh.
“Fear got the best of me.” I shrugged and glued my gaze to the floor. “I went straight to a scenario in which they want nothing to do with me, and considering they know people here, I might have to leave the program.”
It sounded so dumb when I said it out loud. Fucking hell.
“That’s a big leap,” Beckett noted.
“Yeah, yeah. Doc’s already mentioned I have abandonment issues. Riveting stuff.”
I didn’t know why I felt that way. It wasn’t as if anyone had left me voluntarily. My family had always been small. But then, it was really fucking noticeable when someone died.
“No one’s making you leave, Leighton. You’re already an asset to Hillcroft, and Coach and I hope to see you at final selection next summer.”
That would be cool. I wanted to stay. I wanted to belong here.
“But you do need to make a decision about the Quinns,” he added. “And let me be clear—your last decision was shit.”
I scowled at him.
He smiled. “They tend to visit.”
Whoa, what? “Who?”
He shrugged. “Mostly Ryan. He stops by when he’s on the East Coast. It’s not unheard of that he takes on assignments either.”
Oh fuck. Was there a way to get a heads-up when he was in the area so I could hide?
Coward.
Beckett cocked his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s gotta be something else. There are so many operators here who can vouch for the Quinns. They’re good people. They’d welcome you with open arms—and you still hesitate?”
I averted my gaze once more, and I had to swallow twice. The pressure on my chest started returning, and I felt cornered. It was one thing to be honest. A whole other to expose my weaknesses for assessment by my superior. That might be the one thing I’d rather do with Doc if I had to choose someone.
Although, my answer wasn’t about Beckett—for the most part. I could tell him a little bit.
“For the past six years, I’ve known fuck-all about my future,” I said quietly. “I guess it’s made me cling to what little history I have. Memories, stories…and I don’t want them to change. My mom literally made up stories about my dad, and even though they’re… I don’t know—they were a comfort. And meeting the Quinns would change everything.”
He hummed. “What if it changed for the better?”
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I knew it was beyond ridiculous, but I just couldn’t risk losing what little I had.
“Let me ask you this,” he continued. “Say you go out on a date. He’s nice, you get along, you have a lot in common—whatever. Would you call him again and suggest a second date, or would you back off and be happy for that one date?”
Like I said, I knew I was ridiculous.
“I’m like that with everything,” I admitted. “Even before Mom died. Like, when I learned how to swim, I kinda stopped once I could do it—until I joined the Army. When Mom wondered why I no longer wanted to go to the pool, I said I didn’t want anything to happen. The best pizza I ever had—I never went back to the place, just because I didn’t want it to be a fluke.”
He frowned and absently cracked his knuckles. “First of all, that’s fucked up. Second, you’re not like that here. You’re advancing at Hillcroft every day.”
Not the same thing. “It’s about attachment. I’m not exactly loving the training here. It’s a fuckload to learn, and every workout comes with a new bruise. But, like…the people? The friends I’m making, hanging out with Alex, all the common areas—there’s life around, someone’s always up. It doesn’t have to be big. The pizza, for instance. It was just a good memory. I went there with Mom and Aunt Laura one time.”
“Ah.” He nodded slowly and lowered his stare to the table. He had to be exhausted by now, always trying to figure me out.
I needed to do that too, ’cause fuck me if I didn’t wanna take things further again, and it was all his fault. Why did I wanna tell him stuff? Why did I wanna say shit that made me feel vulnerable and mortified? Was I some kind of masochist?
“You’re another example,” I said, hating myself. Shut up, shut up, shut up! “I regret not backing off sooner, because then you’d just be the mentor who was really nice and helpful.” Oh my God, these words were actually tumbling out of my fucking mouth. What was wrong with me? Beckett furrowed his brows and stared at me, and I was about to run my mouth once again. “You took a step back once I started watching Alex,” I elaborated. “It kinda sucked, even though I know why you did it. You gotta set boundaries and shit. But…you know. I liked having breakfast and lunch with you.”
Yup, I definitely hated myself. I had to look away, and my ears felt hot. Fuck him for making me word vomit like that.
“And now I’m the mentor who backed off,” he murmured.
Shoot me.
This was my hell.
“Like I said, I knew why you did it,” I answered. “You can’t be friends with a recruit.”
It wasn’t his fault I took it so personally. That was my problem. My attachment.
He sighed heavily and leaned back against the cushions, and he draped his arms along the back of the sofa.
“Boundaries are important,” he confirmed. “Maybe I should have communicated that better, though. I didn’t take a step back because I didn’t enjoy hanging out with you. Once Alex came here, I felt the lines were becoming blurry, and it’s fundamental for Coach and me to assess the recruits from a wider perspective. If we stand too close, we’ll miss a lot.”
I bobbed my head and picked at a thread in the corner of my pants side pocket. That one was gonna bother me, so I pulled out my folding knife and cut it off.
“I hear you,” I said eventually.
“But those boundaries won’t always have to be there,” he said next. “Once you pass final selection, I’ll be the first to shake your hand and buy you a beer. You’re already weirdly easy to talk to, so I have no doubt we’ll be good friends.”
He thought I was easy to talk to as well? Interesting. But yeah, being friends with Beckett would be nice. I just had to get over my crush first, ’cause it was getting out of hand when the dominant feeling was disappointment.
Crushing on the straight superior, how fucking pathetic.
I needed to change the topic. “Is it true that final selection takes place in South America?”
His mouth twitched. “Did Tanner tell you that?”
I shrugged.
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “Ecuador, to be more precise. It’s why every applicant is required to have a valid passport.”
Made sense. No matter where it took place, I was going to be there. Tanner and I had made a pact to push each other toward graduation. Like me, he’d struggled to see his future for a long time. Then his brother had joined Hillcroft, and Tanner had wanted to follow in his footsteps.
“Tanner and I will be there,” I said firmly.
Beckett tilted his head. “You two have gotten closer, huh?”
I shrugged again. “Kinda.” The truth was, we’d bonded over two lame-ass attachments. Tanner had loosened me up with three drinks, and I’d stupidly admitted to being hooked on Beckett. Tanner, in turn, had lit up like a Christmas tree and confessed he felt the same about Operator Riggs. “You were right, I guess. I need friends.”
He smirked faintly. “Even friends who put you on lists?”
I exhaled a laugh. That was funny. Tanner and I were so incompatible that it was crazy. We literally wanted the same kind of man—evidently. We were great at bitching about it too.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I replied.
He narrowed his eyes a fraction, then nodded once and pulled out his phone. “I’m just gonna go check in on Alex. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay.”
* * *