Aberlour cleared his throat and shook his head. He sat up straighter and took a quick sip of his mimosa.
“No, I—ah, I was military.” He was brief as possible.
“Oh,” Paul said curtly, looking—disapproving, which was something that Aberlour had rarely encountered before.
“Retired?”
“No, honorably discharged.”
Paul appeared to have something else to say but then subsided with a brief smile, even while his gaze stayed focused on Aberlour. It made Aberlour uncomfortable.
“How’d you meet?” Aberlour finally asked, nodding towards Riley, to get everyone’s attention turned towards someone else.
Paul didn’t seem fooled by Aberlour’s obvious ploy, but he took the bait and proceeded to share the story of how he and Riley got together.
About halfway through the show, Aberlour got up to use the bathroom. Quietly excusing himself, he worked his way through the dense crowd. As he approached the door to the men’s room, a large man walked out and then pressed himself back against the wall to allow Aberlour to pass. Aberlour froze, recognition instantly dawning on him.
“Aberlour?” The man’s voice expressed the same level of shock that Aberlour was feeling as he stood there staring at him.
“Jesus Christ!” Abe exclaimed in patent disbelief.
“Major Shawn O’Reilly will do just fine,” he replied, laughing at Abe’s expression.
“What happened to call me Shawn?” Abe teased, because he hadn’t forgotten their long-ago conversation.
“Hell, it’s been ages! Are you still—”
Abe shook his head before Shawn could finish.
“Got out after—” he broke off abruptly, then tried again. “Didn’t feel right without—them.”He swallowed audibly and took a deep, calming breath.
Shawn looked down at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably.
“Of course. Understandable,” he said, his own voice tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t check in after the funeral but—”
The hallway felt like a conveyer belt then. Like their words dropped onto it and were whisked away before they could quite get to the end of a sentence.
“I wanted to thank you—” Abe said, shaking his head, hoping to properly convey his apology. “I should have written but I just—”
Again, he felt as if many things in their shared pasts were unspoken, unfinished. Aberlour’s men had died. He’d been incapable of saving them. That was the simple truth of the matter. He took a deep breath and forced himself to own up to what he should have acknowledged long before now.
“You did a lot more than most did back then. I should have called and thanked you, but I was too lost—too fucked up—to get my head out of my ass.”
“I figured you wouldn’t contact me afterward—God knows I wouldn’t have been able to.” His empathy was obviously deeply felt.
Aberlour nodded and took a good look at Shawn. He had certainly aged well, despite how his crow’s feet and lines around his mouth had gotten deeper. He wasn’t as muscle bound and intimidating as he’d once been when they’d first met, making him look far more approachable now. He’d even let his hair grow beyond regulation length, his light red hair curling slightly above his collar. It wasn’t anywhere near as long as Oli’s, but it was still very unruly by military standards.
“Are you still in?” Aberlour asked, dragging his attention away from Shawn’s appearance to resume their conversation. He wondered whether the Major had noticed his scrutiny of him. That trademark smirk said he probably had.
Shawn’s expression changed, becoming more serious. “Deploying for eight months next week.”
“Ah—certainly explains why you’re at a drag show today, then,” Abe said, ruthlessly suppressing a smile that wanted toburst free. “Getting your fill of good old fashioned American entertainment while you still can.”
Shawn snorted and nodded agreeably.
“Got to keep myself busy—I keep giving out my number to hot Marines hoping they’ll call me to go out for a beer—but nothing ever comes of it.” He sighed dramatically.
“Therein lies your first mistake, my friend.”
