“I think that’s Wayne’s house.”

“He still has a home in Texas too, right?”

“He does. So does Jack.”

A couple of news vehicles are parked outside the community entrance. The occupants in the news vans barely give us a second glance as we drive by. They are waiting for Jack and Sophia to return home.

We drive past the luxury gated community and into the portion of San Diego where most people live. The houses are smaller, the yards not quite so green and lush or manicured.

“Can you imagine owning two homes that grand?”

“I can imagine it,” I answer honestly. “But that’s not my dream.”

“What’s your dream?”

“I want to make a difference.” I tap the steering wheel. Her knee bounces, and I place my free hand on her thigh. Her leg stills, and I catch her gazing at me. I focus on the road ahead, but I want her to get to know me. The real me. “As a kid, I wanted to catch the bad guys. After 9/11, those bad guys became real.”

“Why’d you leave the military?”

That’s a more difficult question to answer, mainly because I can’t get into details. We aren’t allowed to talk about our missions. National security requires discretion. Her hand falls over my hand, the one on her thigh. My thumb brushes up and down.

“Don’t you find in life, often there are multiple factors that play into any one decision?” I angle my gaze away from the road and back to her. “Especially big decisions?”

She nods and licks her top lip. Smiles. She’s got a great smile. Her cheeks rise, and her smile reaches her eyes.

“I suppose that’s true. What factors played into your decision to leave the military?”

“Well, one, my sister.” I turn off the freeway. There’s a green directional sign with the words New Rise Rehabilitation Center, along with signs for gas stations, hotels, and fast food. But she zeroes in on the relevant sign.

“Is your sister not well?” No one knows about my sister. Therefore, I don’t get questions about her. I give myself a second to weigh a respectful answer.

“She has good days and bad days. She’s fighting some powerful demons. I personally don’t think she’s been accurately diagnosed yet. I’m working on it.” I pause, glancing over at her. Bringing her to meet Indie might be a bad idea. But I want to share this part of my life with Alex. I don’t want her to doubt me. Seeing is believing. “I should warn you, my sister isn’t my biggest fan. As a matter of fact, right now, she’s pretty angry at me.”

“Why?”

“I strongly encouraged her to go back into a rehabilitation facility.”

“And by strongly…?”

“I threatened to cut her off. She’s living in an apartment I own. Driving a car I own.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s my half-sister. She’s twelve years younger. Twenty-five.” She’s closer to Alex’s age than mine, but there’s no comparison between the two women. Indie is stuck in a rut, trying to figure her way out of a dark place and find her independence. Alex is financially independent and successful in her own right. “She’d probably be in jail, but I hired a lawyer for her after her last DUI. Part of the agreement my attorney secured required her to spend time in a rehabilitation facility.”