“Whoa,” Sam heard himself saying, but Jules was laughing, so he guessed it was okay.
Robin, however, may have not been too pleased, although the kisses Kevin was noisily planting were only on Jules’s cheeks, chin, and forehead and not his mouth.
“It’ssogood to see you,” Jules said, still laughing asKevin now pulled him out of the car. And then they were just hugging—albeit quite a bit more tightly and for far longer than Sam greetedhisbest friend from his childhood, his cousin Noah.
But, come to think of it, maybe not.
“I swear to God, Jules Cassidy,” Kevin exclaimed, as Sam extracted himself from the cramped drivers’ seat, “you just keep getting more and more blindingly handsome, while I somehow seem to have gone from awkward teen directly to middle aged curmudgeon.”
“You’ve always been adorable, and you know it,” Jules countered, pulling his friend in for another hug because that first one apparently hadn’t been long enough.
Sam stretched his legs as he let himself look around.
Jules’s friend Rodney—or maybe his late wife Connie—was organized. The garage held a fully equipped tool bench and a lot of gardening gear, a pair of cruising bikes complete with baskets, and what looked like water skis, but it was all neatly arranged along with a shelving system that held equally neatly labeled plastic storage boxes. There was no chaos, no piles of shit to put away later like, ahem, some people. And the car that sat in the other bay was a hybrid that was very shiny and clean.
Rod—had to be since it wasn’t Wig-Milt-slash-Sweater-Mick—was standing at the top of a set of wooden stairs in an open doorway that allowed Sam glimpses of a very nicely appointed kitchen. Lots of shiny wood and tile and stainless steel appliances.
The man quietly standing there watching Jules and Kevin was relatively tall and dressed a lot like Sam, in jeans and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brown hair was long and pulled back into a neat man-bun. His face was aging toward craggy, and as he glanced over to look atSam, it was clear he had that enviable ability to completely hide all emotion with the type of blue eyes that could go flat and dead at will.
Sam’s favorite senior chief in SEAL Team Sixteen, Stan Wolchonok, had used that particular skill to a powerful advantage.
But like the Senior Chief, Rod apparently could let himself light-up upon occasion, too.
He smiled now, just a little, and let his amusement peek through as he gestured toward Jules and Kevin, who were both laughing their asses off at something as they glanced over at Sam and Rod. “They’re talking about you,” Rod said.
“Mmm,” Sam said. “Might be talking about you.”
That got him another smile. “Oh, I’m certain of that,” he said, adding, “This could take a while. You need the bathroom?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Sam said. “We truck-stopped just a few minutes ago. Jules wanted to gas up. You know, just in case.”
Rod, who apparently knew Jules pretty damn well, did know. He gave Sam a nod, his hand stretched out to shake. “Rod Burke.”
“Sam Starrett,” Sam answered as he clasped the man’s firm grip.
“I know who you are,” Rod said. He lowered his voice a tad. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s okay,” Sam said. “This case has been a shit-show, but that’s probably a good thing.”
“No time to wallow,” Rod agreed. He exhaled a burst of disgust. “Said the professional wallower.”
“Yeah, man, I should’ve started with: I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sam said and Rod nodded.
“Thanks. Yeah. It’s been, um...” Rod shook his head. “Having Kevin here is... I mean, it’s... a lot. But... good.” Heshook his head again. “No. Nothing’sgood. Not yet, but... it’s better than... It’s better. Fuck, I’ll just stop there.”
“I think that’s about where Jules is, too,” Sam said.
“Ah, shit, Sam’s calling meJulesagain. That’s a sign of the end-times.” Jules and Kevin—Hobbit—had finally finished hugging and now Jules wrapped his arms around Rod, kissing him on the side of his face, too, but unlike Kevin, once was enough for him. “Man, it’s so good to see you. Thank you for saving the day.”
“It was no big deal,” Rod replied.
“Just the same, thank you,” Jules said smiling into his friend’s eyes.
“Why is it a sign of the end-times?” Kevin asked, blowing past Sam’s hand that he’d held out and hugging him instead.
“I... have no idea,” Sam said, gently extracting himself. “I’m Sam.”
“Yeah, I know, I remember you from the wedding,” Kevin said. “Sam the Navy SEAL best-man Starrett, with the gorge wife Alyssa who used to work with Jules. I wassojealous, but I’m over it now.”
