“More likely to get activated. Deployment happens less often.”
Piper set down her glass. She knew he’d been activated probably more times than it was worth counting, but it was one thing to think it, another to live it. “Where would you have to go?”
“Could be anywhere.”
“Where’ve you been?” Winnie asked.
“Lots of places. Puerto Rico, Afghanistan, Kuwait, Cuba . . . Sometimes we don’t do land at all.”
“You stay on the water,” Winnie said. “Right? Like when you’re fighting pirates?”
His brows went up.
“Come on, I know you fight pirates.”
He just gave a small smile. “Okay, maybe I’ve had some missions where we boarded and took down foreign freighters for possessing drugs and weapons.”
“Pirates,” Winnie repeated, looking pleased.
Piper and her siblings had been to a whole bunch of places too. For Winnie, that had happened from birth until the age of three. That meant she didn’t have real memories of any of that time, just stories she’d been told. Practically fairy tales.
Not to Piper. Those times were all too real in her mind, which meant the danger of what Cam did out there was not lost on her.
“It’s not always like that,” he said, speaking to Winnie but looking at Piper, as if he knew where her thoughts had gone. “Sometimes we’re simply the humanitarian aid or law enforcement, and sometimes we’re guarding oil fields and setting up ECPs—entry control points.”
“I read that the Coast Guard is the only military branch that can carry guns on American soil without martial law being in effect,” Winnie said.
“Because we’re part of the Department of Homeland Security, not the DOD.”
“What’s your specialty?”
“I’m an ME1,” he said. “Maritime Law Enforcement Specialist, First Class.”
“Is that like the Big Cheese?” Winnie asked.
“My rank’s E-6. If I went up one more to E-7, I’d be a chief. A chief runs the field, but usually from an office.”
“Not as exciting,” Winnie said.
“I’m not an office kind of guy,” he said on an easy shrug.
Gavin came to the table with egg-and-sausage burritos. He squeezed Piper’s shoulder. “Not trying to steal your thunder, just want to take care of you once in a while.”
Touched, she smiled at him, and the rest of them stopped talking to eat and give the occasional moan of pleasure.
The burritos were amazing. Restaurant quality. “Okay,” Piper said. “You win.”
“It wasn’t a contest,” Gavin said modestly, and paused. “But do make sure to note this down in your journal. I want it on record to offset the next time I screw something up.”
“Hey, we’re all adults now,” Piper said. “So there’s no screwing anything up. We’re all on the same page. No secrets equals no fights.”
No one made eye contact.
“What?” she asked.
Emmitt lifted his glass of chocolate milk. “To family.”
Winnie and Gavin quickly grabbed their glasses and lifted them too. “To family.”
And even though Piper knew she’d once again missed something, the moment was gone.
Chapter 8
“If you feed me now, no one dies.”
A few mornings later, Piper staggered downstairs in search of caffeine, pausing just outside the kitchen at the sound of voices.
“How did we all get so ridiculously broken?” Winnie asked.
Gavin laughed roughly. “You really need me to answer that? At least we’re home with our glue stick, Piper.”
Winnie was quiet at that, her silence seeming to suggest that while Piper might be the glue, she was also a little unglued . . .
Fair. Piper felt distinctly unglued lately. She’d just started to enter when Gavin spoke again. “When are you going to tell her, Win?”
“Never.”
Gavin made a sound of disappointment.
“Whatever, Gav. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Piper would’ve liked to hear more, but Sweet Cheeks chose that very moment to wind around her legs, letting out a very loud series of chirps that said, “If you feed me now, no one dies.”
Piper winced as both siblings turned toward her, startled. “Hey,” she said casually. “What’s going on?”
Gavin and Winnie looked at each other. Then Gavin shrugged. “Might as well admit it, since she’s about to find out.”
Winnie shifted her weight. “Gav—”
“Winnie burned breakfast.”
Piper could have called that out for the lie it clearly was, but . . . she could smell it. She eyed the kitchen, stopping short at the realization that the place looked like a cyclone had hit it.
“I tried Rowan’s banana muffin recipe and nearly blew us all up,” Winnie said. “He was so great in the kitchen.” She bit her lower lip. “Sometimes I forget he’s gone.”
Piper felt her heart squeeze. “I’m sorry, Win.”
“I know you didn’t like him. You thought he was a bad influence on me.”
He’d been a terrible influence, introducing Winnie to a partying lifestyle that Piper hadn’t approved of, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like him. She had. He’d been fun-loving, charismatic, and sweet. “He was a good kid. I know you miss him.”
Winnie nodded. “I do. And since baking no longer holds any appeal, and I suck at cooking in general, I’m going to stick to what I’m good at—fixing things.”
“You’re good at fixing things?”
“I’m learning. And Emmitt taught me a little bit about gardening. I thought I’d help with the vegetable patch.”
“Grandma’s vegetable patch?” Piper asked. “The one no one’s maintained for years?”
Winnie shrugged. “Thought it’d be nice.”
“But we don’t know the first thing about gardening.”
“Duh. That’s what YouTube’s for.” Hopping up to sit on the counter, Winnie began flipping through a stack of bills. “And yikes, we’re poor.”
“Like that’s anything new,” Piper said, still taking in the devastation zone.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Winnie said. “The oven’s messed up.”
“I’ll put a new oven on my list for Santa.”
“It looks like a bomb went off in here.” Gavin shook his head. “She got that from you.”
“Well, excuse me,” Winnie said. “We can’t all be neat freaks.”
“How about just neat? Can you all be just neat?”
This was an age-old argument between the three of them. Gavin hated a messy house, but especially a messy kitchen. Funny, because he didn’t object to having a messy life.
“Why are you guys up so early?” Piper asked.
“Cam finished fixing Emmitt’s boat yesterday. So Emmitt took us fishing,” Winnie said.
Piper laughed at the idea of her siblings getting up early on purpose. “Come on.”
“It’s true,” Winnie said. “The sunrise was gorg.”