Abe sighed and nodded. “No, I wouldn’t’ve,” he agreed.
And that was fine.
He looked at the empty seat next to him. He tried to picture it filled—tried to picture Oli’s perfect smile—his big blueeyes—his warmth. It was still there, still fresh, like a leaf to be plucked from a tree in the spring.
“How many of your guys did you save?” Abe asked, then.
“Hard to say,” Shawn said.
“How many were nearby?”
“Four.”
The magic number. Four headless corpses. Four beautiful smiles. Four lives forever lost because Aberlour had not taken that shot.
“Then you did it right,” he said, meeting Shawn’s gaze directly. “You did what I didn’t.”
“Should it make it easier?” Shawn asked, and he was all too serious. Not baiting Aberlour into a fight, but asking, man to man—broken man to broken man—if it ought to make it easier.
Aberlour gave it the thought it deserved. He leaned forward, carefully examining every line—every scar—every wrinkle visible on Shawn’s face. He recalled the handsome face of years before, then weighed the misery and the loss and made up his mind.
“Yes.”
And Shawn held his gaze just like he had the very first time they’d met. As though waiting for Aberlour to look away and admit it was a lie—
He never looked away.
“I’ll try to remember that the next time I scare someone away,” Shawn responded, his laugh a little bitter.
“Not the grenade’s fault. It’s ‘cause you don’t smile,” Abe observed with a mischievous grin.
Shawn looked at him like he’d grown another head.
“What?”
Abe shrugged, unapologetic. “You’re a scary man when you’re frowning—always were, but when you smile,” he stoppedspeaking and looked away, down at his drink, then off at the thin crowd in the bar.
“But when I smile—?” Shawn asked, waiting for Abe to continue.
“You’re handsome when you smile.”
Shawn snorted and shook his head. “Was,” he corrected.
“Did I stutter? Did you lose your hearing on the way here, or were you always this dense? I saidare, didn’t I?” He shook his head, looking bewildered.
“Then you need your eyes checked,” Shawn replied curtly, sounding flustered.
Aberlour chuckled.
“I have 20/20 vision, remember?” He didn’t even pretend to be humble.
“Is this how you flirt?” Shawn asked, baffled.
“What if it is?”
Conversation came to an abrupt halt. Aberlour realized they were now traversing terrain neither of them really knew how to navigate. After setting off any number of landmines that usually crowded their silences, they were now faced with either vast emptiness, or a world of possibilities. Aberlour was afraid of both in equal measure.
Shawn’s mouth dropped open with shock, and he made a sound somewhere between a baffled snort and a laugh. He reached for his glass again, forcing himself to use his injured arm. It was a slow process, and when he finally brought his glass to his lips, he tossed it back in one go.
