Damian huffs a laugh. “Ryder hated the idea—of course.”
Ryder smiles and shakes his head like he’s not going to dignify that.
“I mean, Wyatt thought it was dumb too, to be honest,” Jake says. “In fact, I also had my doubts…”
They all laugh, loose and familiar, remembering specifics only they can see.
“It was the first anniversary of our first night together as a unit,” Jake continues, turning back to me. “The night with the snakes?”
I nod.
“So a year later we were in Cartagena, still in theatre, but on the Colombia hub, living in shitty transit housing near the port. We get a night off, hit this bar just off base, and Damian realizes it’s been exactly one year since the jungle.”
Damian picks up the story. “I said I thought it mattered,” he says with a shrug. “That night changed everything. We’d trained together for months, but it wasn’t until we were actually thrown into the jungle that we found out what we were willing to do for each other. How much we could trust each other. It started out as a cheers, and then a suggestion that we remember this night every year, and then—”
“It devolved into a night of risk-taking debauchery,” Wyatt finishes for him. Everyone laughs while I look on in confusion.
“Part of the tradition now is we do dares,” Damian explains.
“So dumb,” says Ryder, shaking his head. But he’s smiling.
“It’s about facing something that scares you, and not backing down.”
“All grit, no quit,” Jake supplements.
“You won’t believe some of the shit these idiots have gotten into,” Wyatt says, pointing his thumb at Jake and Damian. They laugh.
“Well, yeah,” Jake admits. “Wyatt’s had his share of dares. Ryder, too. But Damian and I have definitely done the dumbest shit.”
“Like fucking Lima,” Ryder says, rolling his eyes.
“Like fucking Lima,” Jake echoes, breaking into a wide grin. He looks back at me. “That was the second anniversary. We’re in Lima for a rotation, get leave, end up in this bar on the waterfront. Damian’s at the bar flirting with the bartender—”
“Was not,” Damian interjects.
Jake rolls his eyes. “So he tells her about the dares. I’m there trying to order drinks for everybody. She says all our drinks are on the house if Damian and I get up on the bar and make out.”
My eyebrows shoot up. There’s a little fizz of heat low in my stomach at the image. Damian and Jake pressed together in some noisy Peruvian bar.
“And did you?” I ask.
“Yup,” Jake says cheerfully. “Damian grabs my shirt, shoves me back onto the bar, and lays one on me. Whole place went nuts.”
“Especially the assholes standing beside us,” Damian says, grinning. “They were fucking horrified. Served them right. Felt like a public service.”
I picture Damian’s fingers fisted in Jake’s shirt, Jake sprawled back on a sticky bar, mouths crashing together while some horrified macho guy in the corner chokes on his beer. The image is titillating. I take a sip of whiskey to cover the sudden heat I’m feeling.
“So that’s Hellbent Night,” I say. “Near-death anniversaries and public service announcements.”
“That’s the folklore version,” Jake says. His eyes flick between the others, then back to me. “This year’s a little different.”
“How so?” I ask.
“We’ve never done it with five before,” he says. “Never with someone in the mix who…changes everything.”
I frown. I don’t want to ruin their tradition. But before I can say as much, Damian speaks up.
“That doesn’t mean we’re not respecting tradition, though. You heard Ryder. She’s our fifth. It’s official.” He winks at me. “You up for it, Finch?”
