He skipped the formalities of Dad’s standards of the meeting, like showing me around post and introducing me to what career choices I would have if I chose to enlist. He said that after talking with my dad, he’d figured I’d heard and seen it all by now. Instead, he took me to his home on post and introduced me to his wife and his little girl. I didn’t know why we’d ended up there, but I wasn’t going to argue.

   He set out two deck chairs in his front yard, facing both his house and the American flag that flew proudly in front of it.

   “Why do you want to enlist?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the flag.

   “I don’t know.”

   “Well, that’s a shit answer.” He kicked his legs out in front of him, getting more comfortable. “Do you want to do it for you or your old man?”

   “I don’t know,” I repeated. I was getting edgy because I hadn’t expected questions. I had come there to keep Dad off my back and had expected a standard run-of-the-mill meeting. The same ones I had been through the past two years. No one had asked me any questions before.

   Hayden sighed. “My old man, he works at a cardboard factory. Has ever since he was sixteen—same job his entire life. He’s sixty-seven and every day he wakes up at four in the morning, drives to work, puts on his gloves, and does the same old thing . . . makes cardboard boxes.”

   “So?”

   “So, that’s his job, Hunter. Making boxes.”

   I rubbed my jaw, confused by why he was talking about his dad’s work. “There’s nothing wrong with making boxes, sir. It’s an honorable job.”

   “You think so?” he asked, looking back at the flag.

   “Yes. The world needs cardboard boxes. His job serves a purpose. There’s honor in that.”

   A slight smile appeared on his face. “Is that what you want out of this? You want to serve a purpose?”

   “I don’t really—”

   “My mom’s never had a paid job. I have three brothers, seven nieces and nephews. My dad has always supported the family on his cardboard-box-factory wage.” He paused for a beat. “I’ve only ever seen him cry once. You want to know when?”

   “Sure.”

   “When I told him I was enlisting.” He was silent a long moment before he cleared his throat and added, “I remember him getting off his chair and walking to me, then wrapping me in his arms. He said, ‘I’m proud, son. You’re doing something with your life,’ and he used the same word you just used. He told me that what I was doing was honorable.” He laughed once. “What he didn’t know was that I was an eighteen-year-old-punk and wanted to enlist purely because I wanted to shoot shit.”

   I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to tell him that I thought he was stupid.

   He laughed again, louder this time. “I know what you’re thinking. That it’s stupid . . . my reason for enlisting.”

   “A little, yeah.”

   “Obviously, my perspective has changed,” he said quietly. “But that’s the difference between you and I, Hunter. I enlisted for a stupid reason. You’re considering enlisting because you want to serve a purpose. You probably think it’s honorable, right?”

   “I guess.”

   “But like you said, you could work in a cardboard factory, and you would serve a purpose. You would be doing something honorable.”

   My gaze dropped to my lap as I took in his words.

   “Your dad,” he continued, “he’s kind of intense. The way he acted had me intrigued about you, so I looked you up. High school basketball star, right? Division I college prospect . . . set for the NBA?”

   I exhaled a shaky breath and shut my eyes; the weight of his words coming down on me full force. “That’s not relevant.”

   “No?” he asked, the surprise at my response evident in his tone.

   I shook my head.

   “Hunter,” he sighed. “I’m not here to convince you to join the army, even though that’s my job. The choice you make has to be yours. It’s not something you want to regret ten, twenty, thirty years from now. I’m just going to say that the army, hell, the United States of America—we’d love to have someone like you on our side. We’d be honored to have you serve our country.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

   Chloe

   “I have a confession.” Josh stood in front of us and took a swig of his beer. “That day, when you came into work for the first time and that stuff happened with Tommy, I called Hunter the next day and told him that I thought you were hot and asked him if he thought I had a chance.”

   My jaw dropped. Blake’s chuckle tickled my ear.

   We were back at the abandoned basketball court, or half-court, as Blake had corrected me. He leaned against the back of a bench with me in front of him. His arms were wrapped tightly around my waist as he rubbed my stomach under my shirt with his thumb.

   “What did he say?” I asked Josh.

   “He basically pissed all over you and marked his territory.”

   I laughed.

   “It’s true,” Blake murmured in my ear.

   “I can’t believe you’re leaving.” Josh removed his cap and dropped it to the ground. Then he ran his hand through his dark hair. “Everyone fucking leaves me. Natalie . . . my own goddamn parents. Everyone. The only one that hasn’t is Hunter, and that’s ’cause he pretty much hates the world.”

   Blake stood a little taller, gripped me a little tighter. “A, I don’t hate the world. B, Natalie’s a bitch.” Josh flinched but remained silent. “C, your parents are assholes. And D, you’re above all that shit.”

   Josh’s eyes went wide before he shook his head and asked, “So have you decided yet? August 19, Duke orientation, right?”

   Blake tensed for a moment before dropping his hands and letting me go. I took a step forward, unsure of what was coming.

   “What about it?”

   “I’m just saying . . . it’s not that far away.” His eyes moved to me. “Has he told you what he’s doing?”

   “No,” I said quietly, looking at the ground.

   “I haven’t decided.” Blake moved to the side and farther away. “I still don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.” He sounded pissed. “Is that okay with you, Joshua? Do I need to check in?”

   “What the fuck’s got into you? I was just asking.”

   Blake stepped toward him. “You weren’t just fucking asking. You were pushing.”