"Why can’t I remember that?” she says.
"Fuck if I know,” I say. “I thought I was going to piss myself there. I still remember Christopher almost shit himself. He never even looked at you twice. When you started working at the bar, he wouldn’t even go near the tables you were working.”
She gasps. “How did I never know this? I just thought he was quiet and shy."
I shake my head. “No, not even close."
"I guess we agree that if the other parent gives her a punishment, that we follow it when she is with them?” she asks, and I nod. "Dating,” she says, and I whip my head to look at her.
"Are you dating?" I ask, and my tone is harsher than I want it to be, but she caught me off guard. I guess it crossed my mind that maybe she had a man back home, but I was fucking hoping she didn’t.
"I am not,” she says. “I haven’t dated in six years. It’s pretty hard to date when you don’t trust anyone with your daughter, and there are no family members to help out. Besides, it was hard to do it with a child,” she says and all I can say is thank fuck. I look ahead, and neither of us says anything.
"It’s crazy if you think about it," I start. “If I hadn’t come home this time …" I try not to think about it because it makes me want to throw up. “I would never know that I have a daughter." I can see that this bothers her. "I never thought I would be here,” I say softly. “Do you know why I’m here?"
She shakes her head. “I haven’t really kept up with what you have been doing. Besides Pops, I never really talked to anyone here. He brought you up the first two years, and he knew that I just couldn’t even handle hearing your name. I was so hurt that you didn’t even answer my message. He tried to talk me into coming home and telling Billy and Charlotte, but …" She takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to give them the burden of Sofia or me. So I worked harder to make sure that she was never ever missing anything."
My heart breaks again, knowing she went through all of this by herself. I owe her more than what I can give her. "This is the first time in six years I’ve been back,” I say, and she gasps in shock.
"I knew you wanted to leave,” she says. “But I always thought you would come back to visit."
I shake my head. “Just the thought of coming back here would make me sick,” I say the truth. “I would sign up for another deployment just to escape from coming back here."
"Then why now?" she asks, and I swallow.
"When I left here," I start, “it was so fucking liberating. I was in no one’s shadow. I was just Reed Barnes,” I say. “The first month was fucking awesome. Highest on the scoreboard. Beat my records, and not one person mentioned my father or my brother." She just listens and doesn’t say anything. "The second month was going well and then I fucking missed them," I admit to her and to myself for the first time ever. “I missed seeing them, being with them. Then I got your message." I shake my head. “It fucking threw me off the track." She blinks away her own tears now. “I’m so sorry I never answered you, and until I die, that will be my biggest regret. But I had to cut the ties. It fucked me up for a week." My hand comes out. “I never came back because I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t have the balls to leave again. So whenever I had leave, I traveled. Picked a spot and backpacked."
"So why are you here now?" she asks.
"Eight weeks ago …" I close my eyes, and I can see it like it’s happening right now in front of me. "My squad and I were taking a drive to the city." I swallow, and I can feel the heat on my body. “Routine. Nothing out of the ordinary. I heard the whizzing before I had a chance to do anything. I was in charge of the squad, and all I could do was yell incoming." The pain in my chest is just as intense as it was that day. “It gave the driver a split second to swerve before a missile hit us." Her hand goes to her chest. “I blinked, and all I saw was black. I don’t remember anything. I heard screaming. When I opened my eyes, there was this buzzing noise, and it took me a second to realize where I was. I had glass all over me, and I will never forget the smell of burnt flesh." She puts her hand on my leg now, the exact leg that was stuck. "I was stuck,” I say. “I was under a part of the truck, and I could hear the bullets trying to hit us. I raised my head, and all I saw was dust everywhere. I reached for my radio, but I just couldn’t grasp it. I yelled for my men, and we were all in bad shape. But their lives rested on my shoulders."