The Texas sun was already blazing at 6 AM when Master Gunnery Sergeant Solomon Dryden loaded his overnight bag into the back of his wife’s Dodge Charger. The car still smelled faintly of her perfume—vanilla and jasmine—even though she’d been gone for two years. He could have flown from Temple to Elmridge in ninety minutes, but the eight-hour drive gave him time to think, to remember, and to prepare himself for a moment he’d been anticipating since Tyran was old enough to understand what graduation meant.
Continues…
