“Whoo!” Holly sings, shutting the front door. “Dylan fixed the air?”

Riley backs away quickly and stands to my side.

I cover my cock when Holly appears in the doorway of the bathroom. “What are you doing?” she asks, pizza boxes in her hand.

“Clearing Riley’s pipes,” I answer.

Riley chokes on air.

“The sink!” I rush out and point to the sink. “Not Riley—not her—this!”

Holly presses her lips together, nods once, and then leaves.

Riley shakes her head, her eyes filled with amusement. “You suck at talking, D.”

“No shit.”

I hear the front door shut. “I heard there was pizza!” Eric shouts.

Dad grunts.

Holly calls out, “Let’s eat.”

My phone rings on the bathroom counter and Riley reaches for it. She hands it to me, still standing above me, her legs toned and tanned beneath her skirt. “You going to answer?”

I kiss her leg. Just once. Then answer the call and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Lance Corporal Banks?”

I instantly recognize the voice on the other end. “Yes, First Sergeant?”

“Conway and I are in town on a recruiter visit. Thought we’d come see you. We’re at your house but no one’s answering the door.”

“I’m at my girlfriend’s house, First Sergeant.”

“I thought she lived with you?” he asks, his tone more casual.

I look over at Riley, her brow furrowed. “It’s a long story.”

“Can we come by, Banks? There’s something we’d like to discuss.”

“Yes, First sergeant.”

“Send Conway the address. We’ll be there soon.”

I hang up and look down at my phone, knowing full well it’s bullshit. There’s no recruiter visit. They’re here for me.

“What’s that about?” Riley asks, helping me to stand.

I wash my hands, my eyes on her through the reflection of the mirror.

“They’re coming by.”

“Why?”

“To discuss the disciplinary action for my DUI.”

Fifty-Five

Dylan

They show up fifteen minutes later to a waiting audience. I guess no one wanted to leave. Dad and Eric helped move the furniture in the living room so we could accommodate their visit.

Riley helps me to stand when First Sergeant Fulton and Conway enter the room. I shake hands, make the introductions and offer them a seat on the couch opposite us.

“How’s the leg?” First Sergeant asks.

I tap it twice. “It’s getting there.”

He nods. “Listen,” he says, holding the brim of his cap in his hands as he rests his elbows on his knees. “This wasn’t a casual visit, Banks. I’m here to discuss—”

My throat clearing cuts him off. I glance at Dad quickly and then at Eric. There’s no other reason for a First Sergeant to make the trip out to my home unless it’s something dramatic. “I know why you’re here,” I tell him.

“So you’ve thought about it, Banks?”

My brow furrows.

He sighs, taking the folder that Conway hands him. “We got word of your DUI, Banks.”

I nod, glancing at Dad again.

Riley takes my hand in hers.

First Sergeant continues. “You have four weeks left until your contract with the United States Marine Corps is up.”

Everything inside me stills. Everything but my heart, racing, thumping hard in my chest.

He opens the folder in his hands, his eyes shifting from left to right. “You have four weeks of leave accumulated?”

My gaze drops. I know what’s happening. And the thought of it turns my stomach to stone. “Yes.”

“It’s under recommendation from the Sergeant Major that you use your leave, Lance Corporal.” He closes the folder and holds it above the coffee table between us. “We have all the paper work to begin the out process. Anything else we can get to you? I assume all your gear is still at the barracks rooms?”

I stare at him.

“You happy for Conway to go through your stuff and send you your personals?”

I look at Conway. He’s looking down at his hands. He won’t make eye contact. He’s too goddamn nice.

In the corner of the room, Dad grunts.

And the walls—they start to close in. Like a cave, trapping me.

I look over at Dad and Eric. They won’t look at me either. Shame can do that to people. I attempt to swallow but my mouth’s dry. I reach for the glass of water on the table, my hands trembling.

“Banks,” First Sergeant says. “Are you okay?”

No. “Yes.” I ignore the water and take the folder from him before opening it on my lap.

“What’s happening?” Riley says quietly.

“It’s okay,” I assure her.

“I’m sorry, First Sergeant Fulton Sir,” Riley says, “What do you mean out process? What does that…” She takes a breath. “Dylan?”

I can feel her eyes burning a hole in the side of my head but my focus is on the page, the words blurred. I blink hard. It doesn’t help.

“Mal?” Riley says, her panic evident. “What does it mean?”

Eric answers for him. “It means he’s out.”

“Out?” she says, on her feet now. “Out of what?”