Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Understandable. I’d gotten stuck in one of those nets more than once.
Crew handed out water bottles and rags to the men, who made quick work of removing the worst of the green and brown camo paint from their faces. Another thing I’d hated during field exercises, painting my face. Because everything got stuck to it, dirt and dust and sand and tiny twigs. Then you got sweaty, and…fuck those memories.
“Hudson!” Coach strode over to them, so I went another way.
I was starting to feel awkward and very out of place. I didn’t belong here. I had no orders to follow, and when I asked what I could do, all I got was shit answers. How did I “brace myself” for a furious Beckett? There was little to no room for creativity either. Like, how could I show initiative when there was nothing to do? I didn’t have any communication device, the Juniors had been monopolizing the map, Coach was all over the place, and I didn’t wanna be in the way.
But since there was no one by the map anymore, I trailed over there and eyed the area illustrated in faint black lines and tiny Xs. The lines showed what kind of terrain it was, right? Or were the lines hills and valleys? I couldn’t fucking remember, and we hadn’t started studying this yet.
They required us to have military experience here, and then they went and changed things up enough so we had to start over in so many ways. What was the point? I’d aced land nav, and here I couldn’t tell what were trees and what was terrain.
Either way, more operators had been called in since Beckett had left, that was for sure. Our location was marked with a blue pin, and I counted twelve, thirteen…fourteen red pins.
“That’s Coach’s recruit?”
I snapped up my gaze and instinctively backed off. Crew nodded. They were headed this way. The sniper ran the rag over his face some more, and I could tell he was much older. Late forties or so.
Had I met him before? He looked familiar.
“Yeah, meet Leighton Watts.”
The man smirked and extended a hand to me. “I saw what you did to the guy in the passenger’s seat. He went out like a light with one elbow.”
Oh. Heh. I shook his hand firmly. “Coach did tell me to eliminate the threat.”
He chuckled. “Good to meet you, kid. I’m Ryan.”
…Ryan? Ryan. Ryan, who looked familiar.
“…one hell of a jarhead and sniper.”
The memory of seeing a particular photo online flashed by in my mind. A younger Ryan Quinn and his dad standing side by side, wearing matching grins, one with a USMC tee and the other holding up a Go Army tee.
“Nice to meet you too,” I managed to get out. Nausea crawled up my throat, and my mouth watered because of it.
This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t him. He just looked like him a little. Or a lot.
“It’s not unheard of that he takes on assignments either.”
“Have we met before?” I heard Ryan ask. He cocked his head, and he was observing me in a way that made me wanna run away.
“Um, no, I…I don’t think so…” I scratched my forehead and eyed my options. Walk straight into the woods and disappear forever? Or go ask Coach something. Look busy. I had to look busy. I had to fucking vomit. “E-excuse me, I’m gonna go talk to my superior.” I looked down and walked away.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that was my dad’s brother.
It was him. Not even I could deny it.
My eyes welled up, and emotions I had no time to deal with bubbled up faster than I could process them.
It’s Dad’s brother. He knew my dad. He grew up with him. They went to school together, shared a home, and probably raised hell together. It’s Dad’s brother.
Over by the backpacks on the ground, I snagged a bottle of water just to keep my hands occupied. I was thirsty, but I wasn’t sure I could swallow anything unless I wanted it to come right back up.
“Hey, kid,” Coach said. “Beckett will be here in sixty seconds.”
“Okay.” I cleared my throat and didn’t fucking know what to do.
What did I do? Where could I go?
My heart was drumming faster and faster, and my hands felt clammy.
Breathe.
“Leighton, are you okay?” Coach asked.
I nodded without glancing his way. I kept my blurry stare fixed on the ground that was covered in leaves.
Dad’s brother. His younger brother.
It was so weird too, because the image of my dad didn’t put him in his fifties, but of course, at this stage… He’d be right there. Fifty. And Ryan was like…forty-seven? Thereabouts.
“Good to meet you, kid. I’m Ryan.”
Good to meet you, kid.
He had a nice voice. Warm, rich, and perfect for someone who called a grown man kid.