“I will.” She swung around to walk out again, touching Crew’s shoulder as she passed. It wasn’t much, but it was Willow’s way of saying she was on his side, even if it meant keeping the secret that he almost lost his back-door virginity to a set of goat horns.
The office buzzed with phone calls and barked orders. Carson Malone held a phone away from his ear. “We’ve got a situation in Colorado. I have the pilot and flight crew gearing up the private jet. Denver, you’re going.”
Across the room, the other Malone brother shook his head, a crease between his brows. “Can’t. A new veteran’s arriving today.”
Must be an important person if Denver was going to welcome him. Oaks had spearheaded the therapy program and was involved in everything from intake to going-away parties for the men who were ready to take on the world again.
Carson swept a look around the room and landed on another brother. “Colt. You’re going to Colorado.”
“On it. Let me kiss my girl goodbye first.” He pushed away from the table and walked out, nodding to Crew as he did.
Crew crossed the room to where Gray sat behind an open laptop. “I’m here for the weekly handoff.”
Gray gave him a quick nod. “Sorry, I would have walked them over to you but we’re swamped.” He picked up the stack of letters he’d written himself, a neat bundle held together by a thick rubber band.
Crew accepted the packet and added them to his own more crumpled, possibly grass-stained stack. “You need anything in Willowbrook while I’m there?”
“If you don’t mind running to the hardware store for a few boxes of fence staples, it would save me a trip.”
“No problem.” Crew gave Gray a jaw-lift in farewell and headed out again, arrowing toward the ranch trucks parked in a line in front of the big garage.
He chose an older model he always drove on these errands. As he climbed behind the wheel, he felt a little lighter at the prospect of a drive through mountain country.
As soon as he reached the post office, he lost any calm he might have gained from the striking scenery. When he entered the tiny establishment, his shoulders were already getting tense.
He helped Gray write letters to the list of five thousand people as a way to work through his own loss.
But the angry letters he got in return were addressed to Crew—from the family of his late copilot, Conner Dickenson. And he was overdue for another.
The first, he received on Conner’s birthday, written by Conner’s brother. The words were thick with anger that their family couldn’t celebrate his birthday. The next time he wrote, it was Christmas. And finally, Mother’s Day.
The wad of letters in his hand felt like they weighed much more than a few ounces. Each week, he helped Gray write the letters. At first, it was cathartic. Now…he was feeling a little stuck. And restless.
Luckily, the line at the post office wasn’t long today. Willowbrook’s post office had a single window with one employee, who thought it was her public duty to chat with every person who came in.
Right now, she was talking with a woman wearing worn carpenter pants, a shapeless top and a pair of rubber gardening shoes.
He’d never seen her before—he would remember her shiny auburn hair. As he waited, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation—or the fact that the postal worker handed her…a dead plant?
Here he was worrying about receiving hate mail from the family of his late copilot, and this poor woman had been sent a pot with a few dry sticks poking out of the top. Both were depressing.
“I saw this and thought of you.” The postal worker beamed.
The woman sucked in a gasp. “Really? How sweet of you!” She rotated the pot to read the label. “Oh, it’s a Zamioculcas! Thank you.”
She turned from the window, eyes fixed on the plant like it was a new puppy. Crew stepped aside before she distractedly walked into him.
For a brief beat, their gazes met.
Green. Her eyes were green—something that plant was decidedly not.
As he stepped up to the window and passed the sheaf of letters across the counter, the bell on the door tinkled with the woman’s exit.
“Wow, that’s a big stack today, Crew.”
He didn’t want to discuss the labor of love he and Gray were dedicated to.
“Looks like more letters than usual,” she continued.
