Page 48 of Broken Trust
Axle looks offended. “Why?”
Cabe points at him. “You are the worst neighbor in existence.”
Royce starts laughing.
“What?”
“When we were kids,” Cabe says, “our rooms were side by side. He blasted music until two in the morning.”
I laugh. “Really?”
“Yep. And the odor that came from his room …”
“Fuck off,” Axle says.
“I swear, his gym bag was toxic.”
Royce is laughing.
I shrug. “I live with four college girls in Aurora.”
The table quiets.
“Trust me, I’ve survived worse. Late-night parties. All-night drunken study sessions. Smelly boyfriends. Jealous rages over said smelly boyfriends.”
“Oh, catfight?” Royce asks.
“Unfortunately.”
Everyone laughs.
Axle shakes his head. “Well, I promise to be on my best behavior.”
Cabe leans toward me. His voice drops conspiratorially. “Don’t trust a word he says.”
And as I sit there, surrounded by this ridiculous group—eating lunch, laughing, feeling more at home than I probably should—I realize something.
This academy is going to be special. And not just for the students, but for everyone. Because it’s more than a temporary assignment. It’s building a community.
A family.
And judging by the smiles around the table, I’m not the only one who feels it.
Axle
Sleep is impossible.
I’ve been staring at the ceiling of my cabin for nearly an hour. Maybe two. Hell, I’ve lost track.
I sit up and glance at the clock beside my bed. It glows with a red light—2:17 a.m.
Fucking great.
I flop onto my back and throw an arm over my eyes.
I’m a shit sleeper. Restless. Always have been.
When I was a young buck, it wasn’t a problem. I could run on four to five hours of shut-eye, a half a pot of coffee, and pure determination.
