“It’s not nothing. What is it you don’t want to tell me? What happened between you and my brother?”
The throbbing in his shoulder worsened into a pulsing river of pain. He poured the last of the coffee from the pot and slugged it down, even though it was only lukewarm. Then he washed his mug and the pot and grabbed a towel to dry them. “Not important. Not anymore.”
“I think it is.” She got up and faced him. Arms crossed, she kept her voice barely above a whisper. “When exactly did you accept responsibility for my brother? When he got drunk on the base and you couldn’t wait to turn him in? He told me.”
“Is that how he explained it?” Salt in the wound, but not surprising, he supposed. Aaron hadn’t told her or his parents what really happened their senior year either—the fire he’d caused that led to Gideon’s injury. He hadn’t revealed that Gideon’s lie to protect him had cost the Landry family dearly. Acid churned in his stomach. That one small deceit had ballooned into a catastrophe. On some sleeplessnights, during the long, cruel hours before dawn, he wondered if that was the reason Aaron had never grown up—because Gideon had not allowed him to way back then.
He’d had the sneaking suspicion that Aaron decided to enlist with him because he didn’t know what else to do. The thought bothered Gideon then, still did—along with the invisible distance between them bookended by that day in high school and the moment Gideon found Aaron in the ditch.
He folded the towel into a neat rectangle while she stood there, waiting. She wasn’t going to let it go.
He considered telling her everything. Why not? If her plans worked out, he’d never see her again. But what would that revelation accomplish? It couldn’t bring Aaron back, and she most likely wouldn’t believe him anyway. Her brother was her hero. The truth would only cause her more pain. At least he could save her from that.
“I loved Aaron like my own brothers,” he said slowly. “I wasn’t the friend he needed. Let’s leave it at that.”
She stood there in the weak light, her skin luminous, hair a dark cloud, waiting for more. He couldn’t give it. Not now. Not ever.
“Gideon ...”
“Get some sleep. Sofa looks more comfortable than the kid zone, so you take it,” he said, picking up his backpack and heading for the cramped bedroom across from Kevin’s.
Bunk beds beckoned. They were pint-size, covered with rumpled checkered bedding. Toys were dumped in a crate in the corner, and a small table housed a scatteringof crayons and pieces of coloring paper. The photo on the wall showed Kevin and a smiling blond-haired woman and their two children, all standing next to a brown horse.
“My home and my family come first,”Kevin had said.
Gideon thought about his mom, the cancer treatments that had weakened her, the small farmhouse his parents shared clamoring for repairs and modifications. His mind drifted back to his high school years.
“He needs a complete shoulder reconstruction,” the doctor had said. After gently clearing his throat, he’d added, “And I’m afraid the cost far exceeds your insurance coverage.”
His mother’s mouth had quivered as his father took her hand. “Whatever my son needs, he’ll have.”
And Gideon had indeed received the procedures necessary to rebuild his joint, then gone on to the military career he dreamed of, but the expense of the surgery, the extended hospital stay due to complications, and the physical therapy after had drained his parents’ bank account.
So now it was his turn to step up.
Whatever you need, Mom.He’d be there to pay for it if necessary, and provide support physically, do the remodeling on the house. Rope his cousin Johnny into helping him. Four more months of service and he’d have his discharge and his wilderness classes in place. Four more months and he’d finally be able to put his family first like he should have done so long ago.
He dumped out the contents of his backpack and arranged the items in a neat row on the floor to dry. His shoulder complained, as did his banged-up shins. Froma plastic pack, he extracted a cord to charge his cell and one to replenish the external battery pack.
Backpack empty, the weight felt wrong. Something still inside? He rooted around, then lifted the flap at the very bottom.
A cell phone in a waterproof bag. Mackenzie’s. A slow smile spread across his face as he realized that she must have stowed it in his backpack when she was making small talk in his Jeep, waiting to stage the mugging. She knew that after each mission he would completely empty the pack and clean it down to the last square inch—at which point he’d no doubt discover her cell phone. Crafty woman.
She probably expected he’d have it sent to her place after her arrest, and it would be waiting for her when she posted bail. He chuckled. Too smart for her own good, that one. No news there. She was the “always do the bare minimum required and still ace school exams” kind of person. Gideon was the “study until his eyes bled and out-prepare everyone else” type. They had little in common, so naturally he’d been fascinated by her. Aaron’s baby sister, always dancing in the wings of his attention—a rare butterfly he could never catch but only admire.
He fingered her phone, fighting against a killer wave of fatigue that dulled all his senses.
Mackenzie believed her mission to bring Aaron’s killer to justice was what her family needed. She was dead wrong, especially if it cost her parents the life of their other child.
Don’t you see that you won’t fill the hole, Zee?
He’d learned that lesson the hard way. Sometimes, nomatter how mighty the struggle, people were lost, a fact he detested and fought against his entire career. There were circumstances when “return with honor” meant accepting the end of a life, and admitting that allowed families to heal and go on.
Maybe not exactly move forward, but at least live their lives as best they could. When had he gotten so philosophical?
During hours of lying on his back in a sleeping bag, staring at the sparkling universe?
Could be he’d picked it up observing his older brother Cullen loping around with a toddler on his shoulders, telling her stories about the brave mother she’d never know. Because that woman’s life mattered, even if it was gone.
