Part Thirty Three

You Will Find Your Way

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Part Thirty Three of You Will Find Your Way
What does Doctor Sweeney REALLY need, and what is Giselle listed as in Dallas’ phone?

Fortunately, dinner goes a lot better than the car ride to dinner.

Since they’re far from campus, it’s wholly unlikely that Dallas and Luke will run into any of Giselle’s students, let alone any of the ROTC undergrads, and that means they can drink!

Gotta love campus regulations for the interaction of staff and students.

The restaurant is also clear on the other side of town from the one Giselle’s been dragged to, so they won’t hear the echo of Doctor Sweeney harping at her for her decisions that may or may not reflect badly upon the university.

He’s very touchy.

Maybe he needs to get laid?

Dallas shudders around a sip of wine.

Gross.

Obviously, Giselle’s not an option, but maybe they can find someone as insufferable as he is to put up with him.

“What do you think?”

Luke snorts, “I think I’d rather spend a week living in the dorms with my undergrads. Do you know that most of them don’t know how to do laundry? I mean, I know I didn’t when I was their age, but what were we learning back in high school?”

“Certainly not what we’d need to get by in life. Oh well,” she shrugs and takes another sip, her eyes flicking toward the windows at the front of the restaurant when something bright flickers over the piece of sky visible over the building across the street. “Sweeney will get over it once he realizes that Giselle isn’t going to give him what he wants.”

“Do you mean her sleeping with him or her firing you?”

Dallas cocks a brow, “Both.”

With a shake of his head, Luke considers his menu again before he looks at Dallas, pitches his voice low enough that the couple at the table to their left won’t be able to hear their conversation, “So what was it like?”

“My years in that war zone or waiting for the advent of modern internet?”

“I can imagine the war zone well enough,” Luke doesn’t look at her and it’s very pointed, but she gets it. “Never mind. What about—what did you do after you left Tate the first time? After you got the book.”

It’s a heavy-hitting question, but one she remembers the answers to since it’s only been a little more than a decade.

She takes another drink of wine, blinks when another flash arcs through that tiny patch of open sky, and a small part of Dallas curses the fact that she can’t just crane her neck and check under her shirt to see whether or not the blade on her back has started glowing again.

“Tried to destroy it,” she glares as she thinks about the damn thing and how it wouldn’t catch fire no matter how big a bonfire she made, how many furnaces she tried, the hundreds of crematoriums she broke into in the dead of night. “And when that didn’t work, I tried to find out where it came from. Didn’t make a lot of progress, and then four years ago I met Giselle. The things she’s working on—they’re all things I can’t quantify, but I know she’s on the right track.”

“And that’s how you ended up back at Tate.”

They pause as the waitress returns with their meals, and when she’s gone, Dallas nods before she takes a stab at the fancied up Mac and Cheese she ordered as a side, “Unfortunately,” she shrugs. “But lately, I’ve been thinking that no matter what, I’d end up back here anyway.”

“Sorry.”

She shrugs, looks up at him through her lashes and he does look genuinely apologetic, so she grins, “It’s looking up.”

Before he can reply, Dallas’ phone buzzes where she left it face-down by her elbow, and she apologizes before flipping it over to check the screen.

Sure, she’s read article after article about how cell phones and technology are turning millennials into rude little monsters, but Dallas literally has one person in her contacts list, so it must be important.

‘Bathroom break. I hate you so much.’

Or that.

With a muffled snort, Dallas turns the phone and slides it across the table so Luke can see it, “Guess it’s going really well,” his eyes flick down to the phone again before he looks up, puzzled. “Why is Giselle listed in your phone as Destroyer of Worlds?”

“Because that’s what I first thought of her when we met,” Dallas flips the phone back over, screen down. “I told you she’s on the right track with what she’s working on, but if her discoveries are used the wrong way, then the consequences could be disastrous for this world, let alone others.”

Luke pales a little, and he swallows, clears his throat, and then grabs his glass and drains the rest of his beer, “That’s not exactly a comforting thought,” he manages.

“Sorry?” Dallas doesn’t try to sound like she is, because she’s not. “I thought we already established that I’m a lot more, well, blunt than I was back then.”

A flicker of movement over Luke’s shoulder catches Dallas’ attention and her fork falls from numb fingers because—

“Mathias?”

You Will Find Your Way continues with Part Thirty Four

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Author: TheFakeRedhead

A life-long college sports fan and forever bitter about the country's east coast biases, Kathryn, the Fake Redhead, graduated from the University of Arizona with a BA in Creative Writing, emphasis in poetry because she felt the fiction studies emphasis was too pretentious. She is currently helping other writers hone their craft while she pursues her dreams of becoming a published novelist.

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