Chapter 13 - Walter Put My Real Session Back Where It Belonged
Walter called the following week.
Not Caleb.
Not Claire.
Me.
“Ethan.”
“Yeah?”
“The internal review corrected your account.”
“Okay.”
“The fake sessions are retained as incident records but no longer listed as your evaluations.”
“Good.”
“Mason admitted he created them.”
“I know.”
“He also admitted he used Lane Two intentionally.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
Walter hesitated.
Then caught himself.
“You should ask him if you want his reason.”
Better.
“Thanks.”
“Your actual session target is still here.”
“The torn one?”
“Yes.”
“Throw it out.”
Walter paused.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Then:
“The Lane Two target?”
“Not mine.”
“No.”
“So don't ask me.”
Walter laughed softly.
“Fair.”
I almost hung up.
Then:
“Walter.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you keep working there after Gordon and Caleb left?”
He took time.
“Because I liked the job.”
That simple.
“No family explanation?”
“No.”
“Nice.”
He laughed.
“I had chances to leave. Stayed. Sometimes a workplace is just where you work.”
I needed that.
He continued:
“I also owe you an apology.”
“For calling Caleb.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you really do it?”
Walter was quiet.
“I was tired of watching him talk about you as if regret were a relationship.”
That sentence landed.
“And?”
“I thought if you showed up, he should have to face what he had avoided.”
“So you used my booking.”
“Yes.”
“Did you think about what I wanted?”
“Not enough.”
“Okay.”
“That's it?”
“You apologized.”
Walter sounded almost disappointed.
I laughed.
“Do you want punishment?”
“No.”
“Then we're done.”
He accepted it.
Before hanging up:
“Mason won't supervise lanes for the foreseeable future.”
“Okay.”
“He's still employed.”
“Okay.”
“You don't have an opinion?”
“I have several.”
“Need to hear them?”
“No.”
“Good.”
We ended.
That afternoon Mason called.
Not text.
I nearly ignored him.
Answered.
“Walter told you?”
“Only what was mine.”
Mason laughed.
“That old man is terrified of you now.”
“Healthy.”
Then:
“I want to tell you why I used Lane Two.”
I waited.
“Do you want to hear it?”
Better.
“Yes.”
Mason exhaled.
“When Caleb started teaching me, Lane Two was where he stood.”
“Okay.”
“Every time I did something right, I looked toward him.”
I said nothing.
“So when I saw your booking, I logged the fake sessions there.”
“To make him watch you fail.”
“Yes.”
There.
Ugly.
Specific.
“I didn't know he'd actually be upstairs.”
“That made it worse.”
“Yes.”
“Did the target look like mine because you were copying me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He laughed softly.
“I hadn't seen you shoot.”
“Exactly.”
“The resemblance means nothing.”
“I figured.”
Good.
No magic paper target proving blood relation.
Mason continued:
“I think I wanted Caleb to walk in and see your name failing in his lane.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted one thing about you to disappoint him.”
Silence.
Then:
“Did it work?”
“No.”
Mason sounded almost amused.
“He was furious at me.”
“Good?”
“Not really.”
Fair.
Then he said:
“I’m transferring departments.”
“At the range?”
“For now.”
“Your choice?”
“Mostly.”
“Okay.”
He waited.
I did not tell him what to do.
Eventually:
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“I don't know if we're family.”
I stared out my dorm window.
“We are.”
“That easy?”
“Biology is easy.”
He laughed.
“Right.”
“The rest isn't.”
“No.”
We ended there.
Cousins.
May you like
Technically.
Nothing else promised.
