Free Third Degree by Julie Cross Page B

Evanston?”
    Marshall doesn’t move a muscle and instead studies me like my quick change of subject must mean something. Or maybe he’s evaluating my conversational skills. Finally he decides to go along with my direction. “Since right before I started high school.”
    The plastic containers, empty cups, and cardboard boxes are now perfectly balanced and ready for a successful trip to the trash bin. “Where did you live before that?”
    “Everywhere.” He still hasn’t moved a muscle, and it’s causing me to fidget even more. It feels intrusive, like I’m being X-rayed. “D.C., Korea, Colorado, San Diego …”
    I pull my hands back from the tray of garbage and turn to face him. “Wow, that’s …”
    “Interesting?” he suggests. “Weird? Suspicious?”
    “Surprising,” I finish.
    His fingertips land on my temple, brushing away a loose strand of hair, causing heat tosurge through my whole body. “See? You’re not so bad at this.”
    I suck in a breath, trying to ignore my increased heart rate. He’s not touching any major pulse points, luckily, and won’t notice my reaction. “Why did you move so often?”
    Marshall rewards me with that infectious smile of his. “Military brat. My dad was in the navy. His last two years before retirement he was a drill instructor at the Great Lakes naval training center. My parents decided to stay in Evanston after that. My dad coaches high school football now.”
    “Did you get your flip-flop addiction when you lived in San Diego?”
    He laughs. “How did you know?”
    “It’s the only year-round warm climate in the list of previous locations you’ve lived in.”
    His eyebrows shoot up. “Right.”
    The image of a younger Marshall in swim trunks and flip-flops, surfing in California, sits in my mind, and then I fill in a military dad who ends up closely resembling Sergeant Holloway from my morning boot camp class. But is it just Marshall and his dad driving and flying all over the world? “What about your mom? Do you have siblings?”
    He fingers the textbook resting between us, causing his hand to land extremely close to mine. “My mom is your typical military wife, and I have four siblings.”
    “Four? Seriously?” A minivan full of bobbing heads and luggage surfaces in my imagination.
    “I have one older brother and three younger sisters.”
    I reach for a pencil and paper, but Marshall’s hand covers mine. “Don’t even think about taking notes.”
    “Right.” My face heats up. I pull my hand back and stuff it in my lap. “I’m an only child, so the idea of siblings is intriguing.”
    “It gets pretty wild at my house,” Marshall says. “But I can’t imagine it being just me. Were you too much of a handful for your parents to think about having more? I bet you were.”
    The word parents sits like a brick in the pit of my stomach, but I force a smile. “Um, handful is an understatement. And I’m adopted. My mom wasn’t able to conceive, so I’m not certain whether she would have had more children or not.”
    “You’re adopted?” Marshall says, surprised. “But isn’t your dad a—”
    “Heart surgeon.” I twist the straw wrapper into a knot and then reach for Marshall’s, tying them together. “Genetics aren’t the only factor in causing offspring to follow the same career path as their parents. And you’re not in the military, so obviously it didn’t work on you. What about your older brother? Is he in the military?”
    Yes, that’s a good plan. Focus on Marshall’s thriving family, not my dying family .
    “No, he’s a loan officer at a bank not too far from here. He went to school here, too.Football scholarship.”
    I give him a satisfied smirk. It’s a relief to be right. “Maybe the genetic link deters offspring from repeating their parents’ career choices more often than adopted children.”
    The mere mention of genetics drives my thoughts back to my own genetic link, and I get that sinking feeling in the pit of