“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Came to give you a ride home,” he says. I just look at him because I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him dressed in a suit. He stands with both hands tucked into his pants pockets.
“How did you know where I was?” I ask, and he smiles.
“You should know by now, Ethan, that I knew where you were the second you enlisted,” he says with all the cockiness Casey can. He looks just the same as he did the day I took off except he now has a bit of white in his hair. I wonder how Olivia is, and the feeling of longing fills me. I shut it down before I start to wonder about the other person I left behind.
“Good for you,” I say, the chip on my shoulder bigger than it’s ever been. “Now, you can forget you saw me and fuck off.”
“Big words for a big man,” he says, not even flinching at my words. “You finished with your tantrum?”
“You finished talking?” I counter.
“You almost lost your life,” he says, his voice getting tight. “Doesn’t that make you see?”
“The only thing it makes me see is the next time I have to be more cautious,” I tell him. “Did you tell anyone?”
“No,” he says. “It’s not my place to tell them. But your mother, she isn’t -”
“I don’t care,” I say, stopping him from talking, my heart in my throat when I think of the last time I saw her. I regretted that moment more than anything in my whole life. But what’s done is done, and there is no going back. “No regrets” is my new motto.
“It’s time you come home and face the music, Ethan,” he says. “If not for you, then for your family.”
“I don’t have a family!” I shout, and the hurt is even more than it was five years ago. “The only family I did have died right beside me on the battlefield.”
“You know deep in your heart that isn’t true.” His voice stays low. “You know that.”
“I know nothing,” I say. “And what I do know is that for my whole life, I was lied to and made to believe something that wasn’t even true.” I sit up, ignoring the stinging of the wound and the fact it’s probably opened and bleeding again. “That is what I know.” He shakes his head and doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks over to the side of the bed, and I see him take something out of his pocket. I wonder if he’s going to show me a picture of my mom and my dad. Or maybe he’s going to show me how much Chelsea has grown. Instead, he places a key right beside my hand. “What is this?”
“That is the only time I’m going to extend the olive branch,” he starts to tell me. “I promised that I wouldn’t say anything to you.” I want to ask who he promised this to. “I said I would just come and make sure you’re okay. See it with my own eyes instead of hearing it from someone else. I wanted to make sure if anything happened to you, I would be the one telling your parents and not that they bury you with no one knowing.”
“They would bury me with my brothers,” I tell him.
“You can change your name fifteen times, but at the end of the day, you are still Ethan McIntyre.” He turns around and starts to walk out of the room.
“Ethan McIntyre died five years ago,” I tell him, and he looks back at me.
“See you soon, Ethan,” he tells me.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, I watch him walk out of the room and past the nurses’ station. I wait until I know he’s gone before I let the lone tear slip out. I wipe the tear and make my heartrate come back down. “Don’t bet on it.”
Chapter Three
Emily
Five months later
“Please note that I’ll be giving a pop quiz sometime next week.” All the kids groan, and I smile. “Oh, please.” I lean back on my desk in front of the whiteboard. “I’m giving you a heads-up, so it’s not really a pop quiz.”
“Yeah, but then it just has us all nervous,” Chelsea says, leaning back in her chair, and I just shake my head. “It’s rough, Miss Emily.”
“I can imagine how rough it is.” I roll my eyes. “You have to spend less time on TikTok and more time reading,” I say, and the bell rings. The students get up and gather their things to rush out of the class. It’s usually like this during the last class on Friday because everyone is excited about the upcoming weekend. Even me.
“I’m going to study.” Chelsea stops in front of me, and I just smile. “Are you still coming over for Sunday brunch?” she asks. I nod my head, and she claps her hands together. “Cool, see you there.” She comes in and gives me a hug. “See you Sunday, Miss Emily.” She walks out of class, and I walk over to the whiteboard and erase everything, the diamond ring on my finger glistening in the light.
Turning, I sit back down at the desk, gathering the papers and cleaning up for the weekend. Teaching high school students never crossed my mind. When I decided at seventeen that I wanted to be a teacher, I thought kindergarten or maybe second grade. I never thought I had it in me to teach the older kids. But when you
