Then she pulls back, eyes bright with unshed tears, and turns to watch the show.
I watch her instead.
Riley sings along to every word, and I’m impressed at how she knows all the lyrics precisely. During the slow songs, tears streak down her cheeks, and she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets her emotions flow through her in an unguarded way that I’ve never been able to do.
I’ve seen combat and watched men die. But watching Riley Walsh cry over a love song means more to me than anything else. After seeing so much violence, helping Riley get over her shit stain of an ex-boyfriend, and smile again with pure joy on her face?
Ain’t nothing better in the world.
Backstage isa madhouse of crew members rushing past and equipment being broken down. Riley is gripping my hand so tight that my fingers are going numb.
Izzy spots us before I can flag her down. She breaks into a huge smile and crosses to us, pulling Riley into a hug like they’re old friends.
“You must be Riley!” She holds Riley at arm’s length, beaming. “I’ve heard all about you! I feel like I already know you. Where have you been hiding this cutie, Duke? Jake won’t say it, but he wishes you were stateside more.”
I nod. Sometimes I do, too, but I haven’t had anything or anyone who made me want to find the next stage of my life. I spot Jake across the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I tilt my chin up at him and give him a thumbs-up.
“I’m such a huge fan,” Riley manages, her voice animated. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you.”
“Stop, you’re going to make me cry off all my stage makeup.” Izzy squeezes her hands. “And you’re gorgeous, by the way!”
Riley laughs and waves off the compliment, but I can see a shy smile on her face. “Oh, I’m a mess. I’ve been crying since the opening number. Duke didn’t even tell me he knew you! Is it awful if I ask for a selfie?”
“Babe, not at all! Jake!” she calls to her husband. “Could you help and take a few photos?”
“Of course, Iz,” he says, waiting while they pose between laughing like they’re long-lost best friends.
When Jake’s finished taking photos, Izzy pulls Riley toward a couch in the corner, already deep in conversation.
Jake materializes at my shoulder.
“Hey, man. I owe you. Big time. Riley loved the show.”
“No problem. Happy to help out.” He pauses and looks at me. “What’s going on with you two? I see how you’re looking at Riley. You look like you’ve got it bad.”
I don’t answer.
“That’s not a denial.”
I exhale slowly, watching Riley across the room. She’s laughing at something Izzy said, her whole face lighting up, and seeing her so ecstatic makes this whole trip worth it. Vegas is an expensive town, but I’ll always pay anything to see Riley happy and smiling like this.
“She just got out of a bad relationship,” I say. “She needs a friend right now. That’s what I’m being.”
Jake snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.” He claps me on the shoulder and heads toward his wife. “But for what it’s worth? The way she looks at you? That’s not how you look at a friend.”
I watch him go, his words echoing in my head. Then Riley catches my eye across the room and smiles, and longing cracks through my ribs like a fault line.
The definitionof insane should be an image of the Vegas Strip at midnight. It’s louder and brighter than firefights I’ve been in, and I have to remind myself that I’m not deployed and we’re not at war here. The only thing we’re at war with is making our way through the noisy crowds.
Riley is electric beside me, riding the high of the concert, and we’re partying like teenagers. She’s dragging me from bar to barwith her hand locked in mine, unable to stay in one place for very long because she wants to see everything. Her palm is warm against my fingers, and I find myself never wanting to let go of her hand.
We end up at a dive off the main drag—sticky floors, cheap tequila, a jukebox playing 90s hits. This is more comfortable than all the glittering and neon-soaked hotels and bars on The Strip.
“Tequila!” Riley slaps the bar before I can object, holding up two fingers. “Two shots. No, four. We’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“The best night of my life.” She grins at me, flushed and happy, and my heart clenches. “Thanks to you.”
