Across from them, Piper mirrors her pose with me, and though my arm circles her shoulders she shivers as the President shifts his attention our way. I have no option but to respond to his scrutiny. "My dad was reported missing over ten years ago and was subsequently declared dead. It's recently come to my attention he may still be alive, and I need to find him."
"Your father was a traitor, Lieutenant Commander."
Hearing it spoken out loud is blasphemy. Every muscle in my body tightens, including my fingers into a fist on my thigh. Piper's palm comes to rest over my hand as the President raises his glass, appraising me through a long drag. I respect this man. I respect him as a husband for his support of Charlie when she went through some deep shit a few months ago. I admire his dedication and approve of his decisions made for the country, but I'd like to smash those words back into his mouth. Rage rolls up my spine, simmering under my skin and readying for a harsh comeback.
"At least that's what I've been told." He unfolds his leg. Leaning forward, elbows to knees, he looks every part of the Commander in Chief. People don't say no to this man. "But I didn't get into this position by taking information at face value, so I did my own investigation. Now I'm asking you to drop the topic. Nothing good will come from your questions; there are no answers to be had."
"Colin!" People don't say no to this man unless it's his wife. Charlie takes his hand. "You can't ask Caden to do that. It's his dad."
"I can, and I will." The President trains his piercing eyes on me. "You understand, Lieutenant Commander, the tremendous obligation the United States has, the responsibility I have to lead when the country is counting on unreliable partners to battle terrorists. I trust my advisors implicitly. To withdraw my faith in their abilities and question their decisions, places my leadership in jeopardy. It puts the country at risk. They have requested that you cease and desist. Therefore, I'm asking you to trust my office, to trust the people I have faith in, and with that trust, to drop your inquiry."
Goddamn it. Goddamn it! I'm cornered. I also know that my father, alive or dead, is more important than any of us realized. If the President of the United States demands all activity to stop, then we're on to something. And he's asking me to let it go. Patriotism wars with duty to my dad. How can I stop when I'm so close to finding the truth? My chest constricts around my burden. There is no choice.
"Of course, Mr. President."
He stands and I follow, our hands meeting in the middle even as Charlie springs to her feet, sputtering her dissent.
"You can't. Colin, think about this. If it was your father you'd never let it go."
His lips tighten as if to hide a smirk before turning to the mutinous redhead. Charlie glares daggers, taking over my battle, and I give her credit. With a look like that she might just win.
"Enough, baby," he murmurs cupping her cheek. "This isn't something you can help with. If I can do anything, I will. I promise you."
Her jaw clenches and then releases, easing the tension in her shoulders at the same time as she melts into his touch.
"Good girl," the President says under his breath, and then louder, for us to hear, "Now let's celebrate life and a real American hero."
Piper
I'M GOING TO kill Caden. We talked about D.C. for weeks and not once, not one time, did he tell me the celebration at the White House was in his honor. I would have worn waterproof mascara. I would have brought my camera. I would have asked him to tell me the whole story before my heart was ripped out of my chest in front of two hundred people.
I knew his mission had been to rescue an American professor. I knew it had gone to hell shortly after finding him. I knew he'd saved men by patching them up, performing surgery in the field in the most stressful of circumstances. But I didn't know he was shot the first time by throwing himself in front of the professor, who's here singing monumental praise. I didn't know Caden was shot the second time trying to save Justin, shielding him with his body while struggling desperately to close his wound. And I didn't know that after a bullet tore through his thigh, severing arteries and burning though muscle, that he carried his best friend a mile to the waiting helicopter.
No man left behind.
Charlie grips my hand. I can't look at her. I can't look at anyone but Caden who, to the naked eye, appears pleased to receive the highest military award with a slight curve to his mouth, like a comma in the corner.
But I know him.
As the Medal of Honor circles his neck I see him, not just the striking man in uniform or the mountainous warrior that he is.
I see him.
The ragged scar on his neck, the dark smudges under his eyes, the nicks and abrasions to his skin assembled during twelve years at war, and I see the grief. I understand the overwhelming sadness playing like a fiddle of falsity, twining the collection of his actions into a heartbreaking melody, into a symphony for the lonely, for the distraught, a masterpiece unworthy of anyone's ears.