-1-

One morning I get a piece of mail from Louisiana.

It's piece of white construction paper with Rhett and Mason’s painted handprints on it. Someone had drawn  stem and leaves in green marker so the handprints looked like  flowers. There was a bottle of pink acrylic paint in the envelope and Rhett has written on the construction paper “Mommy's Hand Goes Here” next to Mason’s handprint.

My heart aches for both of them. I felt better and I missed my family but the doctors at Hartford Medical want me to stay close by for a little while longer because I was on a trial drug.

Rhett was still mad at me and won't call me. I only get one unexpected visitor in Hartford.

Rocket Olsen.

She sends me an e-mail that she is in town covering fleet week in New York City and  wanted to meet since she was in the neighborhood. New York City was hardly in the neighborhood, it was 2 hours awa,y but she comes up by train anyway and we meet at the The Park Inn for lunch, the small restaurant I worked in right when I got out of jail.

I hadn’t seen Rocket since Rhett’s graduation party. She’d explained to us over e-mail that our story got pushed from the radio in favor of a profile about Bethany Whitlow. 

Her dark hair has a soft pink streak now and she's wearing matching pink jeans with flower patterned sneakers.  I notice she is carrying the rolling case she kept her microphones in.

“You look good,” she says as she sits down in the booth with me. “Clark told me... you weren’t feeling well,”

“I’m doing better,” I tell her, eating another bite of the maple sundae I'd ordered. “The test drug seems to be working with no big side effects. I think I’m going home next week,”

“That's great," Rocket smiles. "Listen I kind of wanted to apologize to you. I saw that my photo kind of set off that ugly chain of events,”

I shrug.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her thinking of Hunter. It was really his fault.

“If I’d known something like that was going to come up I wouldn’t have used your names,” she says. “I didn't know about those videos...I kinda thought the cult thing was the worst thing in your past--”

I drop my spoon at that mention. In all the interviews we’d done over the year we'd never told Rocket about United Light.

“You found out about that ?,” I ask her ,narrowing my eyes.

 “The fact checkers at APR found out. They always put all the sources through a court docket registry. They executive producers wanted me to shift the UL stuff to be the focus of the story and I disagreed. I mean it's interesting, but not news-y and it didn't fit my narrative. We had a big disagreement about it.”

“Is that really why our story didn’t air ?,”

“Partly,” she says. “And partly because a kickass woman doing a job a man typically does is always a crowd pleaser during hard times.”

“I’m sorry you wasted a whole year with us.”

“Well, I consider the story ongoing,” she admits. “I’d like to keep in touch with you and your family...if that is okay. They may let me air the story someday.”

“I don’t know if I want all of my...health issues in your story,” I tell her referring to my stay at the mental hospital.

“I’ll only use what we put on the record,” she assures me.

Rocket  takes out her recorder and we talk for a little bit about moving into our house, about managing Rhett's work schedule, about Mason and Aubrey's new baby

I don’t tell her Rhett hasn’t spoken to me since I was forced out of the house two months ago and that I’ve only talked to my son over the phone.

I don’t tell her I’m terrified of going home.

 

***

 -2-

With the all clear from my doctors, I  get on a plane back to Louisiana  with a bag of prescription refills and the number of a therapy specialist in a city 40 miles from Freeport.

I know my body will be offered up for judgement in Freeport but I decide to make an effort for Rhett and put on a a low necked cotton dress with a pair of black shoes with a low heel. I even put on a little bit of makeup.  I was excited for Rhett to do that raising  eyebrow thing when he saw me and for us to have another long airport kiss and get back to normal.

But when I walk out of the gate at the airport Rhett isn’t waiting for me.

Cody Grady is.

He says Rhett sent him and even though I knew it was supposed to be Rhett’s day off  I don’t question it. Cody’s still in Rollin' Stoned, his old Neon, and it’s sputtering and clanking even more than usual so we can't talk. I know I can’t put Mason in Cody's car, so I yell over the noise for Cody to just take me home and I'd get Mason from Macy later.

“How’s Rhett been ?,” I ask when we get to our house.

“Good,” Cody said. “He and Mase always at Mrs. Clark's  house. Kid seems real happy.”

We walk up to the front door and have a short staring contest.

“Oh, I lost my house key,” I tell him. I hadn't seen it since I left Freeport.

“You think your husband gave me a key to his house ?,” Cody laughs, running his hands through his hair.

“Where is Rhett anyway?,” I ask. “It’s supposed to be his day off,”

Cody shrugs.

“You wanna wait at my place ?,” he asks.

I nod.

It’s a 10 minute drive to Cody's house. I can see Jocelyn’s house from Cody’s front door, but it’s the middle of the day and no one is at Jocelyn’s and I don’t have a key to her place either. Ever since the storm people have started to lock the doors.

The Grady house is  white with a bright red door and American flag barn stars on the roof and siding. They have a low chainlink fence to keep Beau inside and instead of a front porch like Jocelyn’s house there is just a large stone stoop where Coach Grady kept a random assortment of lawn chairs. When I'd lived with Jocelyn I would always see different groups of men hanging off the Coach's attention on this stoop.

Cody gestures for me to take a seat on one of the lawn chairs.. I take out my new crochet project---I’d given up on the original rainbow blanket for Mason and was now working on little 3 x 3 crochet patches I could knit together later to make one big blanket.

Cody runs inside the house and comes back out quickly, the metal storm door slamming behind him, with a beer for himself and a cream soda for me.

“Ma says hi,” Cody mumbles around the neck of his beer as he lazily paces the stoop, hoping on and off the edge.

I knew Mrs. Grady was sick a lot and  spent most of her time in bed. I didn't know what was wrong with her—Jocelyn told me she thinks Mrs. Grady is just morbidly obese.  I'd wondered why Coach Grady didn’t try and help his wife get healthier. Jocelyn theorized he ignored her weight issues because Mrs. Grady was 14 years younger than the Coach Grady and he still saw her as his trophy wife.

Cody starts to tell me excitedly about how he wants to get certified to work on construction sites and operate heavy machinery but I’m not listening. My attention focuses on the house two doors down where Marty Enlign was staring at me from his living room window.

Marty was newly divorced and had sent me numerous  e-mails offering me money for pictures or underwear. I don’t even know how he got my e-mail address but he seemed to think I didn't know it was him. The idea of him staring at me from his empty house  sent a shiver down my spine. I miss two loops on the  patch and have to start over.

“Can we go inside ?,” I ask Cody. “Marty Enlign is staring at me and I think he’s….well, he sent me some disgusting e-mails,”

“No shit ? You think he's beating it ?,” Cody laughs. “Gross. Yeah, c’mon.”

As Cody turns to open the door I realize that in all the time I’ve been with Rhett I’d never been inside Cody's house. It was smaller than Jocelyn’s—just two bedrooms and one bathroom and the walls were covered in a pretty floral wallpaper.                                       

The living room is decorated with a mix of cutesy cat trinkets and sports paraphernalia off set with a 60 inch flat screen television. There is a small shrine in the corner of the living room to Coach Grady’s college football career at Arizona State. There’s a small  cut out photograph of redheaded cheerleader who I assume is high school Mrs. Grady.

The walls of the living room are covered in framed photos of Cody, in each one he is posed almost comically with props in a professional photo studio throughout the years. The pictures seemed to stop around middle school. There are also several pictures of Cody posed with a young  man and woman I don’t think I’d ever met.

We tip toe past Mrs. Grady who is sleeping on the couch in front of the big TV and I follow Cody down the short hall to a large messy bedroom in the back of the house. Beau comes sniffing out from under the covers of the bed when we walk in. He approaches me like he wants to sniff me out, but gets bored halfway through and lays at Cody’s feet.

I sit at the desk while Cody picks the dog up and lays on the unmade bed. The dog licks his face and he nonchalantly removes an empty beer bottle from between the stained sheets.

“You have older siblings, right ?,” I ask him.

“Yeah. Their from Pop’s first marriage. My half-brother is 13 years older than me and my half-sister is nine years older. They grew up in Arizona…we don’t really see them--”

"Rhett told me he slept with your half-sister," I suddenly remember

I'm afraid Cody will be offended but he just shakes his head.

"I heard. You know your husband's a shithead ?" he says

"So is your best friend," I remind him.

"Yeah, it was that summer when he came back from that first year of college all buff and shit," Cody says.  "She was in town while Pop was getting some award and they hit it off apparently. I don't think they went all the way, but she was pissed when I told her he was 20. She thought he was older."

“I have a half sister,” I tell him changing subjects. “I don't think we'll be close. She's 15 years younger than me."

“It's hard when you don't live in the same place, but we make it work,” Cody said. “Best part is my brother played for Michigan and all that, so by the time I came along Pop didn’t give a shit that I sucked at football.”

We fall into an awkward silence and Cody starts picking through the clothes on his bed.

“Man, I always knew Marty was a perv…you know I can’t even watch that shit anymore,” Cody tells me.

“What ?,” I ask him.

He looks into the living room at his sleeping mother and quickly gets up and closes his bedroom door.

It feels oddly intimate.

“Like…Adult entertainment stuff. I can't get into it.” he says shyly messing up his hair and rubbing his eyes.  “I keep thinking of all those girls parents and shit.  Did that motherfucker force you to do that shit ?”

“No,” I say. “I mean…not really. I just really needed money at the time.”

“Cause of drugs ?,” he says. “I ain’t judgin’ I owe my man like 50 bucks.”

“No, I didn’t really do drugs…I mean Brad mostly gave me pills,” I admit. “Like that date rape drug—I can’t remember what it’s called.”

“Shit,” Cody hisses. “That’s some messed up shit. Amber told me she knew guys is college who gave it to girls and the girls didn’t remember shit.”

That sounded about right.

“Well like I said I agreed to it,” I feel like I have to remind him. “I think Brad sold drugs too, but I honestly never even saw them. I’m not even sure the difference between  meth or cocaine.”

He laughs at this.

“We ain't got good meth or coke here, but we have good heroin,” he says.

“I hope you don’t have heroin somewhere in this bedroom.” I tell him.

“How about I don’t answer that,” he laughs.

 I don't laugh or smile back.

“Show it to me,” I tell him.

Cody doesn’t resist. I know he wants to show me. He smirks at me as he pulls himself from the bed. He reaches around me to open the desk drawer and pulls out a plastic bag of what looks like a rock sized piece of shiny brown Play-Doh. It looks disgusting.

“Is that it ?,” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s black tar, better than the china white shit old guys are injecting with--”

“Rhett would kill me and you if he knew you showed me that--,”

“I know,” Cody says and closes the drawer. “He really is a boy scout about that shit. Rhett and I got into some real asshole shit back in the day, but he ain’t never did more than chew tobacco and maybe one hit of weed--,”

“I think when he was in United Light they were giving them steroids in their food” I tell him.

Cody frowns at this, but doesn't take the bait and ask more questions.

I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk about UL, but I hated when Cody held Rhett up like he was perfect.  Cody turns on the football game on his radio, but he doesn’t stop pacing the room.

He eventually opens the desk drawer again and takes out the black tar. The ticks of my crochet hooks suddenly seem very loud.

“I’m just going to do a little,” he tells me. “I’m weaning myself off so I can get the construction job, but sometimes  this shit works better than the Ritalin.”

“What’s Ritalin ?,”

“Doctor bullshit,” he responds.

I stop working on the crochet patches all together and watch him pull a spoon from the bedsheets and use his lighter to melt a small piece of heroin into a brownish looking liquid. He then stands on his bed and pulls an old looking syringe out of the top of the window sill.

I’d never seen Cody do anything so calmly and precisely. He sticks himself in the wrist a few times before finally injecting the needle. It’s like he doesn’t feel the pain. I notice an instant calm come over him as he pushes the injection. He gives a deep, long, almost erotic sigh as he opens his eyes.

“Do you think heroin is better than selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors ?,” I ask

“What the fuck is that ?,” he asks, shaking out his wrist.

“Doctor bullshit,” I echo him. “Well, therapist bullshit. It’s a type of anxiety drug that kind of works but kind of doesn’t…it’s hard to explain. I mean it does chemical things, I guess, but it still doesn't feel--”

“Do you want some ?,” he finally asks me.

I shrug.

But I do want some.

Cody moves some of the crap from his bed and motions for me to sit.  I drop my crochet hooks and sit carefully on the bed across from him. He taps my arm and I put my wrist in his lap. He turns over my hand and I notice the track marks on his hands and wrists. He taps the syringe needle to the thin skin between my fingers and I yank my hand away from his lap on instinct.

“Sorry,” I say, putting my wrist back in his lap.

He tries to go quick this time but I jump away when the needle gets close  and some of the liquid leaks on his bed.

“I’m sorry, I guess I don’t like needle--”

“First timers shouldn’t inject anyway,” he said pushing the rest of the heroin into his own hand. “You want to plug ?”

 “What’s that?,”

“It’s where you take it through your ass--”

“What--”

“It’s a fucking insane high cause it goes right to the bloodstream,” he tells me and then laughs.  “I’ve already seen screenshots of your ass, so it won’t be weird--”

“I though you said you didn’t watch that shit--,”

“I don’t. It was before I knew it was actually you on the videos," he says quickly.

“I’m don’t want to…do that,” I tell him.

 He nods, but he seems disappointed.

“Damn, you’re lucky you’re my best friend’s girl,” Cody laughs clapping his hands together. “I have one more idea, but it kind of wastes some of the initial high.”

Cody walks out of the room and  I consider just going back to my crocheting when he comes back with a small spray bottle. He mixes the black tar with a few drop of water in the spray bottle and then looks over at me.

“I kinda have to get close to you to do this,” he says.

I nod and Cody positions himself on the bed so his knees are on either side of my lap—he smells like stale alcohol, sweat and powdery laundry detergent.  He quickly tilts my head back and sprays the water/heroin mixture in the spray bottle into my nostril. Before I can react, he closes my nose with his hand and pushes my head forward into his thin chest.

The liquid burns, my eyes water and my screams of pain are muffled by his chest. When he lets me go a second later I feel an entire different kind of burn. This one is warmth and heats up my body, like the first time I'd slept with Rhett. The rush is indescribable and it dissipates into a calm like afterglow but stronger.

“That feels nice,” I tell him.

He laughs at me and I feel stupid.

“Shouldn’t you be on Valium ?,” Cody asks.

“I used to be when I was in jail. It doesn't really work on me.” I tell him. “Why ?,”

He smiles at me like there is a joke I don't get.

“Isn’t that mother’s  little helper ?,” Cody smiles

“No, it's just another anxiety drug.”

“Right. I forget you were raised on a—away from stuff. It’s the name of a song,” he says. “The Rolling Stones,”

“The name of your car--”

“Yeah, it’s named after the band. It's a pun,” he says. “Or whatever. Man, ya'll gotta stop listening to that Top 40 shit.”

“Well, this is better than Valium,” I tell him.

“The rush is even more intense when you shoot up,” he says and he seems almost proud to be telling me something. “Mainlining only gets you half a high, but at least I know you ain’t gonna  get addicted—”

“I won't get addicted...but I do like the way this feels,” I tell him, taking the spray bottle.

“Good luck finding someone in town who will deal to a Clark girl,” he says. “Dealers gotta worry about Deacon and Rhett beating their ass.”

“You could be my dealer,” I tell him. “I mean...hypothetically”

“I could also just save time and put Rhett’s pistol in my mouth and  pull the trigger. Me dealing to you would literally be over my dead body.”

“I can be persuasive,” I remind him.

“Not that persuasive--,”

Cody is still straddling me, his crotch is practically at my hand level. I tip toe my hand into his pants and feel for him. He doesn’t even resist, he just closes his eyes and his face turns bright red

“Juliana--”

“This is one time only,” I tell him. “You gave me some of your drugs...We’ll call it even.”

I let my old instincts kick in.

I stroke him with my hand for almost 45 minutes and nothing happens. My fun  high has gone and I just want to stop  stroking him but I’m afraid it will upset him if he doesn't finish.

He’d moved from his kneeling position a few minutes ago and we’re lying next to each other on the lumpy bed and he’d taken his pants off completely. His eyes are focused on the cleavage showing through my dress

“Heroin’s a bitch for wood,” Cody tells me.

“What me to stop ?,” I ask.

He just shrugs so I don’t stop.

I come a little closer to him so our bodies are touching and his knee is between my knees

"I ain't never really been with a girl...," he says. "I mean not that I'm asking you to--I'm just sayin;."

"Rhett never gave you any of his cast offs ?," I joke even though it's weird to talk about Rhett when I have his best friend's penis is in my hand.

"He never had any castoffs," Cody smiles back. "Then I went to jail and that kinda slowed things down...it's cool though....it ain't like I can bring a girl here anyway."

I nod and we go back to silence.

"You can touch me...if it helps," I tell him as a last ditch effort to end this.

I expect him to put his hand on my chest, but he puts it between my legs and just leaves it there.

20 uncomfortable minutes later he finally finishes. I have to leave the room and tip toe past his mother to wash my hands. It’s sloppy and boring and doesn’t feel like anything but for some reason it leaves a tingly sensation between my legs.

I decide to continue my bad judgement streak and look through the medicine cabinet. It’s only diet pills, heart pills and an economy sized off brand ibuprofen.

When I come back into Cody’s room he is watching a movie on his laptop. The movie is loud and offensive and the laptop fan is almost as loud as the movie. I lie down next to him again as he laughs at something on the screen. His bed smells like chips and wet dog, but I’m tired and fall asleep next to him.

I wake up to Cody tapping my shoulder. He’s moved on to the sequel of the other movie and there are two empty beer cans in the bed now.

I didn’t understand friendship.  I didn’t understand how Cody could seem so happy most of the time and not jealous of Rhett. I don’t understand how Cody didn’t try to take full advantage of me while I was asleep. All he had to do was move my dress up a few inches. He knew I wouldn’t tell Rhett is he took advantage of me since he could hold the heroin over my head.

“Hey, Rhett called. He wants me to meet him at Rooster’s,” Cody smiles.

“Rooster's ? Did he mention me ? He knows my flight was today.”

“Nah, he thinks you’re at the house waiting for him,”

“I want to surprise him. Can you take me to the bar ?,”

He nods and we drive silently to Rooster’s. Cody makes the occasional observations on the road while I brush my hair the entire time. We both act like we hadn't just fooled around in his bedroom hours ago.

When we arrive I don’t see Rhett’s car in the Rooster's parking lot but I make Cody drop me off  anyway.

-3-

I walk inside and sit at the bar facing the door, so I can see when Rhett comes in. The bartender is a woman and I’m thankful. I order a sparkling water with lemon and use the shiny edge of the bar to reapply my lipgloss and mascara.

I'd never been inside Rooster’s either. Rhett never invited me and Jocelyn was adamant that good girls didn't go there. The only draw seemed to be the liquor and the flatscreen televisions. The chairs were all wobbly and missing upholstery. The white walls were smoke stained and it seemed if you stared at a large spot on the floor too long it would move.

A man sits next to me almost immediately. I hear a group of men snickering behind me and I'm sure they sent him over. I don’t even bother looking at him and for a while he lets me sip my water in peace.

“Pretty girl in her by herself,” he observes. I pretend not to hear him.

"Pretty blonde girl like yourself," he observes louder moving his bar stool closer  to me.

“I’m waiting for someone,” I tell him not looking up to look him in the eye.

“Am I him ?,” he asks, putting a hand casually on my bare thigh. I freeze and my body tightens.

“Please leave me alone,” I say and he laughs at me.

I knew I shouldn't have worn this dress in public. Was I somehow broadcasting that  I was reverting back to a girl who would do anything to please the men around her ? Rooster’s was in the middle of three bigger dry parishes, there was a chance most of the crowd had never even seen the videos of me, but I couldn't be sure.

The man moves his hand, but manages to brush it across the side of my breast.

“Come on, angel what’s your name ?,”

“I want to be alone,” I tell him in the same icy tone I’d used with Hunter, but this man was no Hunter

“I don’t want to be alone,” the man says trying to take my hand. “Let's be friends.Tell me your name, sweetie ?”

“Stop it,” I say keeping my eyes down.

“Just let me look at you---,”

“Hi, honey,” I hear Rhett’s scratchy drawl behind me. It had been so long since I heard his voice, I get butterflies in my stomach. I hadn’t even seen him walk in. I feel Rhett puts a possessive arm around my shoulder. The other man sits up and scoots back as Rhett sits on the other side of me.

“I’m sorry, man” the stranger says to Rhett.“Didn’t realize this was you—hey, you a Navy guy or--,”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Rhett says dryly but instead of apologizing to me the man just walks off to his friends.

I look up from the bar and see Rhett’s in his dress uniform, which he rarely wore since he became a rescue swimmer. Rhett hated that uniform and mostly wore the dark blue operational dress or a flight suit to work. He'd probably been at a funeral or some other kind of official military business.

Rhett somehow non verbally orders a drink from the bartender with a smile and hand gesture and then looks down at the chipped wooden bar.

“Surprise,” I say to lighten the mood, but his face stays steely as he takes me in.

He doesn't go in for a kiss or hug. He won't even smile at me. He just sucks in his cheeks while drumming his fingers against the bar. I knew he was upset with me, but I didn't think he would be so angry. It wasn’t the greeting I was expecting after almost  two months apart.

“Was there a special occasion ?” I ask pulling on his dress blues uniform collar.

“I had to meet with my lawyer,” he says cooly as the bartender drops of his drink. It’s brown liquor.

“What ?,” I ask brightly and look for him to break into  smile. Sometimes we joked about meeting with our lawyer aka Raleigh Cameron  when we weren’t happy with how something went. It was an inside joke about him always being our lawyer.

But instead of smiling, Rhett just frowns. My stomach turns and my heart snaps.

He must  somehow know what I did with Cody.

He must have told and now I was the slut they all thought I was and I had  ruined our marriage. Now I was going to have to demean myself more to beg him to stay with me. I still loved him, I wasn't ready for this to end.

“I was fired,” Rhett finally says.

I breathe a sigh of relief

Wait.

“What--”

“I’m sorry,” Rhett says in a smartass tone. “I mean I’ve been  temporarily suspended from my position in the United States Coast Guard-,”

"What did you do ?," I ask more fascinated than angry.

He takes another sip and offers the now nearly empty glass of brown liquor to me. I put the glass to my lips and whatever it is it  tastes awful but I finish it anyway.

“Let me see if I can remember…,” Rhett says. “I confessed to the Commandant of the US Coast Guard’s Office that  I was once going to suffocate an ungrateful bitch with a pillow so she won't see me raping her from behind....that I  find it morbidly satisfying watching someone get disemboweled like a catfish and watching how easily the human body fell apart. I also told them I hate God, I'm a sadist, I like guns, breaking noses and winning fights to prove how tough I am.”

"Oh my god," I say when I realize he is quoting the confession he wrote about his time in UL that he had sent to me as a letter. "That first letter you sent me--"

He nods and orders another drink from the bartender. She seems to have it waiting for him.

“That letter  got sent to the Coast Guard Commandant’s office--,”

“Your boss?,"

“Not even close," he smiles. "He’s like the president of the Coast Guard.  Like above my boss’ boss’ boss. It’s like the Coast Guard Commandant's Office, Homeland Security and then the fucking president of the United States.”

“Rhett, I didn’t send the letter--,” I quickly tell him.

“I know you didn’t,” Rhett says. “Your Dad wrote a very eloquent and opinionated request for my removal  to go along with the letter. I've been suspended until they decide what to do with me. Dammit, Juliana why would you take that letter with you ? Why would you even keep something like that after all this time ?,”

A fresh pang of guilt settles in my stomach. Dad had taken the letter and I’d assumed he’d destroyed it, but he must have made copies and mailed it.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him and he shakes his head, sipping from his new drink.

“You should be,” he said. “ God dammit, I get you were pissed at me for making you go to Connecticut but you just couldn’t stand to see me happy--,”

“Rhett, I had no idea he was going to do that,” I say. “You said you have a lawyer ? I’m sure it will be fine--”

“It’s not a real lawyer, it's more like military counsel. They are just helping me get through my hearing. I could be removed from my job permanently or even  dishonorably dismissed from service all together--”

“But...don't they know it happened so long ago--,”

“They don’t care. They have a  letter with my signature where I admit to some dumb bullshit.  Internal Affairs is shitting themselves over this going public--”

“Maybe Rocket Olsen can help. Didn’t she used to--”

“I think she’s done enough,” he snaps.

I don’t have words for him. I know he loved his work with the Coast Guard and I was just beginning to understand he was probably going to lose it all. Even I knew he was only making it worse for himself by drinking like he was in uniform.

“We’ll get through this,” I tell him because it seemed right. The truth was I knew he was angry, but  with my new medication I couldn't really feel anything about it. I was just  feeling the heroin and it made it all feel...nice.

He shakes his head.

“No we won’t.”

 ---------------------

*cranks up angst switch a little higher*

Research Fact: The Coast Guard if the only branch of the military that reports to Homeland Security and not to the Department of Defense.

A/N : I have NO idea why Juliana goes through Cody's medicine cabinet, I think I had a reason originally but I couldn't remember so I just kept that line in there.

Research Fact: Commissioned Officers  like Rhett can't get technically get a  dishonarble discharge.

Research Fact: I have no idea why I do so much research, most of it is really inconsequential and some of it I squeeze to fit my narrative.