“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I made excuses and didn’t spend more time with you. I’m sorry I didn’t come home more. I’m sorry it took this to make me realize I was terrible daughter.”
He slid his arm around her and pulled her close. She breathed in the familiar spice of his bay rum aftershave; it was a scent she’d forever associate with him. “What’s this nonsense? A bad daughter? I don’t know why you’d think that, Ro. I’m so damn proud of you; there are days I think my chest might explode from preening like a peacock.”
“But I was never home, and I ...”
“You were chasing your dream. There’s no harm in that. No apologies necessary. You were living your life and going after your goals with the same single-minded focus that your mama applied to hunting me down and bagging me like a dog.”
Ro couldn’t help but smile. “Is that how it went? She chased you?”
“She sure did. Haven’t I ever told you that you get your drive and your guts from her? I was just a simple country boy, but your mama, before she was sick, was a sight to behold. There was nothing she couldn’t accomplish if she put her mind to it. Smartest woman I ever met.”
Ro couldn’t help but wonder how her mother would have tackled the situation she faced. “What would she have done in my shoes?”
“She would’ve found a way to have her cake and eat it too. And your mama liked her cake.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible. You won’t stay, and they won’t go. They’re mutually exclusive options.” Ro looked up at him. “Please explain to me again why you won’t stay. This place is perfect. They’ve got everything.”
He pulled away and turned to face her. “Well, sweetheart, that’s the problem. It’s too perfect, and that means there’s a giant red bull’s-eye painted on this place. It’s obvious these boys are former military. Which means they still know people in the military. Which means people in the military know them, know where they live, and probably know what kind of preps they’ve made. It all comes down to how loyal those people are and how long that loyalty will last when things start to get real tough out there and they’ve got orders to carry out.”
He had a point, and it was one Rowan couldn’t refute. And even if she could, once his mind was made up, there was little to no chance of changing it. Ro sighed, the impossible nature of the situation weighing her down until the welcome numbness returned.
He picked up the shotgun from the picnic table. “You want me to go back and shoot ‘em? Or maybe just one? It’s not like you really need ‘em both, right?”
Ro covered her face with both hands. “We are never talking about this again.”
Now, if only she could train her mind not to think about them again. She forced a fake smile and went into the mess hall for breakfast.
The last seven days had followed the same pattern: Graham woke up, worked for eighteen hours, pulling double or triple fire watch shifts or manning the command post, before falling back into bed. Alone. From what he’d gathered, Rowan and Erica had ganged up on Rick and persuaded him that his health required he stay more than the one day that Callahan would have preferred. No one had told Graham, and he’d refused to ask, exactly when the Callahans were planning to leave. Every day he dreaded getting the radio call announcing their truck was exiting the main gate. Every day the announcement didn’t come, he didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. It was like drawing out the days on death row; at some point you had to give up hope of a pardon and welcome the needle that would end you.
Zach was still avoiding him … and their cabin. Graham wasn’t sure where he’d been sleeping, but his mind conjured images of Zach and Rowan curled up together in one of the vacant guest cabins. He crushed those thoughts. Sitting at the desk in the command post, chuckling half-heartedly at the good-natured barbs being thrown back and forth on the radio, he tried not to think about spending another night alone. About spending the rest of his nights alone.
The door banged open, and Zach stalked into the room. He paced the small space before slamming both hands on the desk. His gaze burned into Graham. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”
The words were as devastating as Graham had predicted. There’d be no pardon for him. Not that he expected or deserved one. He stayed silent.
“Are you really going to let her walk out of here? Without even trying to change Callahan’s mind?”
“I assume you’ve probably wasted enough breath on that for both of us.”
Zach’s glare was vicious as he yanked one of the chairs from beneath the low counter and threw himself into it. He scrubbed his hands across his face, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“How is she?” Graham asked, his tone casual, but the question had been plaguing him all week.
Zach thumped his palm down on the counter, making the radio equipment jump. “You have the balls to ask me that? After you’ve been like a fucking hermit? You don’t deserve to know. This is your fault.”