“What? I’m not running for public office. That’s my sister’s deal, not mine at all,” Dr. Adams stated, seeming somewhat annoyed when he stabbed a small tomato with his fork and brought it to his mouth.
“Why’s it not yours?”
“I’m too single-minded. Things have always been cut and dry with me,” Dr. Adams replied, taking another bite.
“Then if what you say is true—being here based on a sign—it must be really treading on some seriously new ground for you.”
Dr. Adams stopped chewing and lifted a single brow at him. In some circles, the pointed stare might be considered intimidating, but not for Landon. His Italian father was a red hot, fire-breathing dragon about eighty-five percent of the time. Dr. Adams’s look only made Landon chuckle while reaching for his napkin.
“Didn’t mean to tread into territory you didn’t want to discuss. Sorry if I stepped over whatever line you have, but you have to admit, leaving everything behind to come here is kind of drastic.”
“What’s your story then?” Dr. Adams asked, maybe a little defensive if Landon read his tone correctly. He couldn’t help the laugh that innocently bubbled up from his chest again. Like Landon had any of those funky lines that shouldn’t be crossed or secrets that wouldn’t be told. His whole life was an open book—literally in the public record.
“I grew up on the south side of Houston, Texas. My dad’s full-blooded Italian, born in Italy. My mom’s from Texas. We were raised middle class. I have an older sister who’s a badass with two badass kids. I was a badass; it’s why I joined the military. And before you say anything, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time which is kind of the story of my whole life.” He pointed to his bandaged arm as if to prove his theory before he continued, “But I didn’t have anything to do with what went down.” Landon tossed out his own indignant attitude over his troubled teen years. He’d been leaving Kelly’s, a local restaurant, walking out to his car when he spotted a couple of buddies. The police blazed into the parking lot, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Landon had gotten himself in just enough trouble in the past that no one really believed the truth of his lack of involvement in the drug deal going down. “I’ve been enlisted since I graduated high school.”
“Hmm. So a career man.” Dr. Adams nodded, not saying one word about Landon’s admission. He dug back into his salad again, eating with gusto, taking several bites. Landon couldn’t detect any judgment or condemnation about what he’d confessed, which was weird. Most people thought it was their responsibility to police others. The holier than thou do-gooders always looked down on men like Landon. “Why did you choose the Air Force?”
Landon had respected Dr. Adams, but now he was beginning to really like who he was as a man.
“My uncle told me they get the steak where the rest of the branches get the hamburger. Few things beat a nice thick juicy steak in my book,” he answered honestly before putting another bite in his mouth. It had truly been that simple of a decision.
“Okay, that’s funny even if I felt my arteries clog from just the mention of red meat. I understand the Air Force isn’t easy to get into.”
“That’s what they kept telling me. They kept pushing me away until I scored in the ninetieth percentile on the ASVAB.” His chest swelled with the accomplishment, still proud to this day of his test score on the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery. He’d gotten major bragging rights that he used when needed.
“So, what do you do?” Dr. Adams asked, lifting his fork in the air, prompting Landon to say more while he ate.
“I work intel.” What a simple word for something so complex. Dr. Adams furrowed his brow again. This time, Landon could see the unasked questions forming.
In the end, he didn’t ask any of them and just said, “I have a feeling you’re more complicated than you let on.”
“If that’s a nice way to say you don’t see me as a fit in the Air Force, I’ll admit, it’s been a struggle.” Landon couldn’t help the genuine laugh that rumbled in his chest. He’d done well, but he had left a trail of frustrated superiors beating their heads against walls. “It’s my nature to go against authority, but I sure don’t like to be looked down on. I got my bachelor’s degree last fall. I made Tech Sergeant. That’s how all of this happened with my arm. I was celebrating to the extreme.”
“Hmm.” There was silence between them as they regarded one another, and from the look, Dr. Adams was still trying to figure him out. Landon took another bite, bigger than he probably should have, just to give himself a little longer to gather his thoughts.
“Since I’m putting it all out there, I should probably say, I’ve read all your father’s books. I have a signed copy of The Man I Am. I waited in line for seven hours for that signature.” Landon picked up his glass of water, stopping short of taking a drink. “My fucking phone lost battery and I didn’t get a picture.” He confessed that with all the irritation of the moment coming back in a whoosh of frustration. The drink of water didn’t help wash away the bad taste that memory caused.
“Really?” Dr. Adams seemed oblivious to Landon’s agitation and stopped eating, the fork dropping into the almost finished bowl of salad. He looked and sounded totally shocked.
“I did. I give your father credit for making me pull my shit together,” he stated with all sincerity. He used his fork to push
