Chapter 8 - The Drive Home
The Virginia night air was cool and smelled of damp earth and incoming rain. I walked down the driveway to my practical, unassuming sedan. As I unlocked the door, I heard the crunch of gravel behind me.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The heavy, measured footsteps were unmistakable.
Stellan leaned against the hood of my car, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket. He offered me a piece. I shook my head, smiling faintly.
"You didn't have to blow my cover," I said softly, looking up at the cloudy sky.
"Yeah, I did," Stellan replied, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. "You've watched my back for years, Rowan. It was about time somebody watched yours."
I looked at my cousin. He wasn't the frightened eight-year-old boy from the funeral anymore. He was a warrior, scarred and hardened, but with a fierce loyalty that remained completely intact.
"They're never going to look at you the same way again," Stellan warned, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Thanksgivings are going to be really weird."
"I think," I said, opening my car door, "I might spend next Thanksgiving in D.C. I hear the cafeteria at Langley serves a decent turkey."
Stellan laughed, a genuine, booming sound that echoed in the quiet suburban street. He stepped back and, with absolute sincerity, snapped off a crisp, perfect salute.
"Drive safe, Director."
I smiled, returning the nod. "Stay sharp, Commander."
May you like
As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. The lights of my aunt's house glowed warmly in the distance, but for the first time in my life, I felt no desire to be inside it. The road ahead was dark, but I had always been good at navigating the dark.
How do you think Aunt Maribel will attempt to repair her relationship with Rowan in the aftermath of this dinner party?
