I must be acting like a fucking idiot, especially after all his long-winded bullshit. Greg is gaping at me like he is trying to find a solution for world peace or some shit like that. He holds my gaze for a long while, and I can practically see the gears turning at full steam.
Finally, with an eerily neutral tone, he says, “Reid, just how long have you known Iz?” He might sound neutral, but his eyes seem to be silently communicating that if he doesn’t like my answer, there will be no talking with Izzy.
I look down at my boots and reach up to rub my neck, trying to ease some of the tension out of my body. What a loaded question.
“Why does it matter, G?”
“Humor me, brother. Just fucking humor me. How long have you known her?”
Straightening to my full six-foot-six height, trying to at least give myself that small advantage, I look down on him with a matching grim expression. What the hell is going on here? They are acting like Izzy is some wounded bird. No way in hell this is the same girl I knew.
“I’ve known Isabelle for going on sixteen years, and twelve years ago, when I left home, I left my heart in her fucking palm. I haven’t seen or heard from her since,” I respond with a calm I do not feel. Not in the least.
Greg’s eyes fire instantly, and after a moment of silence, he grunts, “Do not call her Isabelle. Ever.” Then he turns on his heel and leaves me standing in stunned silence with Beck’s, Coop’s, and Dee’s burning eyes on my back. With the exception of Dee, they seem just as confused and shocked as I am.
What in the fuck?
Looking around, I back up and plop my ass down on the hard floor, preparing to wait this out as long as it takes.
I’ve been sitting out here in the hallway for what seems like hours. My ass is numb. Whether it’s from sitting here or the music thumping through the floor beneath me, I have no clue. I look down at my watch to see that it’s only been a half hour since Greg’s cryptic comment. What the fuck is going on in there? I don’t like this overwhelming feeling of helplessness; I haven’t felt this way in a long-ass time. I have no idea what is really going on here. I feel like I have some big-ass puzzle with one missing piece. One piece some little shit took and won’t give back.
What happened to the seventeen-year-old, stars-in-her-eyes girl I left behind twelve years ago? Sure, she was sad I was taking off for basic training, but she knew I was coming back for her. We had plans, dreams, and a future all mapped out and ready to roll. Why is she acting like the wounded party here? She wasn’t the one who arrived home six months later, tired but elated to finally have his girl in his arms again only to find her gone. And she was gone, vanished into thin fucking air. There was not a single trail to lead me back to my girl.
I remember the day I rolled back into our hometown of Dale, Georgia. I was so excited to finally get my arms around my girl. Things with the Marines had been intense, but I was home for a little while. I had a new family now, a band of brothers with an unbreakable bond. I couldn’t wait to bring Izzy into that fold, making my family complete.
Basic training was nothing like I’d expected it to be. I’d known I would be the perfect candidate for the Marines when I signed up; I’d just never imagined excelling at such a rapid rate. Arriving one day, then the next being pulled into a conference room and being handed one hell of a life changer. I was good, damn fucking good, and they wanted me. Only problem was, like with most everything deep within the government, I wasn’t to tell a soul. Top secret to the highest degree. I received my first letter from Izzy the same day, reminding me how hard it was going to be to go dark on my girl; she knew me though, and she knew what this gig meant to me. I wrote her one hell of a hearts-and-flowers letter and mailed it off the same day I left for special training, knowing it would have to see her through until I was home. When I finally got a call home, I had been gone for three long, hard months. I can still feel the shock I felt when the operator informed me that her number had been disconnected. With no one to ask, I just had to pray that my girl knew me and knew our love enough to be there when I came back to her. I couldn’t worry; I had to have my head about me. So with all the hope of a na?ve teenage dreamer, I believed everything would be fine.