“You don’t understand the pressure I was under.”
There it was.
Not an apology.
An explanation shaped like one.
I studied him in the clear afternoon light.
He looked the same as he always had to my family: polished, handsome, disciplined. But the illusion no longer reached me.
“I understand exactly what you did,” I said. “And now other people do too.”
He lowered his voice.
“Be careful, Rachel.”
General Prescott’s voice came from behind me.
“Colonel Turner.”
Jason turned.
The general stood several feet away, accompanied by a legal officer and the same young lieutenant from earlier.
Her expression had not changed.
“I recommend you choose your next words with more discipline.”
Jason’s face hardened, then smoothed.
“Yes, General.”
He stepped back.
That was the last time he tried to speak to me that day.
The family gathering afterward was supposed to be at a restaurant near base.
