Anders drops his arms and pouts for a few seconds, but it’s for show. He catches my eye and turns more serious. “Look, not to agree with my boyfriend or anything, but…what did you have in mind?”
I waiver, not sure if I should say it aloud or even consider the insane thought in my head.
Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“I’m going to Houston; might as well hit up Dallas on the way.”
“Dallas…isn’ton the way. Like, at all,” Anders says, grinning as I open my wallet and toss down a few bills. “Wait, are you going now?”
“FullAnders,” I say, wrangling on my coat. I glance over, expecting them to tackle me to the ground or otherwise discourage me from this crazy plan of action. But they look thoughtful.
Contemplating me for a moment, Anders nods to himself. “Everett texted me and said DB was looking sad at the gallery shindig. Maybe what he needs is a grand gesture.” He pauses, tapping his chin. “I say go for it.”
That’s not surprising, given that he’s my brother and not entirely familiar with sanity. Omar’s response, however, is surprising. “Allah help me, but I also say go for it.” He grips my forearm. “You deserve happiness. And so does he.”
Yes, we fucking do.
14
DeShaun
Jake has a gallery opening in Dallas with his latest collection, which is how I find myself holding a little plate filled with tiny food surrounded by a bunch of small-talkers. He’s gotten some clout among the rich and famous ever since one of the Nelsons bought a piece from him. On the recommendation of his agent, he raised the rates on his originals while making prints available for anyone to enjoy.
This is a big deal because there’s a much larger art scene in Dallas than Austin, and certainly a more monied one at that. Jake’s dad and sister, Evie, were able to come, along with a few members of the team. Jean-Pierre’s parents also came down to support Jake’s endeavor. While everyone else is in Dallas chic, Evie steals the show with her bodice-hugging, black-and-white dress with a full skirt and candy-red heels, her beautiful lavender hair done up in victory rolls.
Prior to the opening, Jean-Pierre and Jake picked me up from my condo and, on the ride over, assured me that Jake recovered quickly from our phone call. Jean-Pierre apologized for being abrupt with me, but he definitely did not owe me an apology. At least there’s one important relationship that I haven’t permanently damaged.
All of these are good things, I suppose, but I’m too numb and distracted to enjoy any of it. My phone call with Odd weighs heavily on my mind. If it wasn’t for our conversation, he’d be here, supporting Jake. Instead he’s honoring my wishes by staying home. Truthfully, I haven’t heard or seen anything of him since that day.
The show has gone well, with Jake selling out of originals in record time, so we all meet at my friend’s restaurant to celebrate a job well done. Evie starts teasing Jake, which cracks us all up. “Five dollars says I’ll have you making pizza box collages by the end of the year.”
Jake, who’s had nothing more than sparkling water, laughs. He’s normally so dark and broody that it’s amazing to see, so the rest of the table cracks up as well. Jean-Pierre leans over and whispers something in his ear.
Cackling, Jake shakes his head. “Babe, I survived waterboarding without cracking, no way Evie’s going to guilt me into creating something out of pizza boxes.”
Jean-Pierre stills and looks at me before shaking his head at Jake. “That kind of joking makes people uncomfortable, my love. We’re at the table.”
Jake’s eyes immediately search out mine and he bites his lip. I wave off his concern as he mouths his apologies, but I have to admit…it’s crept into my bones. Several minutes later, my hands are still trembling. I dare not try to drink anything for fear of shaking the contents of my glass onto the table. Eating is out of the question. Finally, annoyed as hell, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.
To be clear, I’m annoyed at myself. It feels, in a weird way, like stolen valor when I get triggered by something that happened to someone else. My team is in danger during a mission, I get the nightmare. Jake makes a joke about an event thathewent through, and I’m a jittery mess. Not only did I distract from Jake’s important dinner, but I can only imagine what’ll happen when I finally go to sleep.
Walking over to the bank of sinks, I stick my hands under the automatic faucets and curse when the water splatters everywhere. I grab a fistful of napkins and wipe myself down, then shove the wadded-up paper against the sensor for more water. Thankfully, it stays in the sink this time. I wipe my face with the cool, wet napkin before laying it across the back of my neck.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, I wait for the jittery, unsettled feeling to subside. I tick off my emotions: shame, guilt, regret, sadness, doubt. I suppose some part of me should be grateful that Jake can joke about what happened to him, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop second-guessing my choices that led him to that terrible night.
Part of the job was always accepting the fact that I could very well be sending someone to their death, but what happened to Jake feels like I personally failed him. If I’d been a better commanding officer, I could’ve protected him, preserved a little of his sanity.
I’ll never forget how it felt to see Jake for the first time after service. He was thin—gaunt—and the haunted look in his darkened eyes is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. When his dad reached out to me to find out what he could do for his son, I would have moved heaven and earth to get him a bed at an exclusive facility. In reality, I made two phone calls. Doesn’t seem like very much in comparison, certainly not enough.
I re-wet the napkin, wringing it out before putting it on the back of my neck again. I’ve been fighting tears but…fuck it, I let a few fall.
“DB?” Jake’s soft voice startles me. My eyes fly open and I see him in the mirror, standing next to me, eyes worried and brows stitched together. “Guess we’re even now,” he says with a grim set to his mouth.
I shake my head. “It just happens, you know?”
“I know. I’m still sorry I made the joke.”
I nod, returning my gaze to my hands, which are gripping the edge of the sink. “I’m taking you away from your celebration dinner. Go ahead and go back, I’ll be fine in just a few minutes.”
