“Darling can’t aim for shit,” Marcus said, shaking his head.
Marcus was shirtless, his black skin shining from the thick layer of sunscreen he applied religiously every half-hour. He too looked perfectly ripped, as if he’d stepped off the pages of a firemen’s calendar. Aberlour had no idea when he’d started noticing what his friends looked like, but today he couldn’t seem to help himself.
“Man couldn’t throw a decent pass if his life depended on it,” Aberlour chuckled.
“Want to play?” Marcus asked with a smirk.
“Nah, I’m tired of kicking your asses at everything,” Aberlour replied smugly.
Marcus rolled his eyes but held up his hands for Aberlour to throw the football back.
The ball sailed through the air in a perfect arc, landing squarely in Marcus’ hands.
“I still can’t believe you gave your gift to the Corps instead of the NFL,” Marcus said, before turning away and jogging back towards Oliver and Ghost. They too were roughhousing now because they were really just a bunch of overgrown boys.
Aberlour smiled at the thought and laid back down. He crossed his arms behind his head and smiled up at the burning sun, the blinding light behind his sunglasses like red smoke as he shut his eyes.
Ocean, birds, wind, salty air, grains of sand shifting beneath his body. Was this what it was all for? Would he relish this moment if the past three months hadn’t felt like something straight out of hell?
He hummed, an old French song he didn’t recall the name of. It was enough to know the tune. It was enough for now.
“You might want to reapply some sunscreen,” Oli’s voice interrupted his solitude, and Aberlour blinked one eye open to peer up at his best friend.
“Am I red?”
“No, but you’re really fucking hot,” Oliver replied with a sexy smirk that Aberlour hoped he’d never forget.
Aberlour gave it the laugh it deserved and hummed at the sight of a happy Oliver, basking in the sun, his dirty blond hair messy and coated with saltwater, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, his muscular body glistening with a sheen of sweat.
“Come here,” Aberlour said, gesturing for Oliver to come closer.
It was a testament to how comfortable Oliver was, because he didn’t look around before dropping to his knees next to Abe.
“Kiss me,” Aberlour ordered softly.
Oliver’s grin shifted into something else. Something a bit more dangerous and certainly more heartbreaking.
Without another word, Oliver leaned down and pressed his mouth to Abe’s. It was short and sweet, though it tasted mostly of beer and saltwater. When they separated, Oli’s cheeks were rosy, and he looked a little more like the boy Abe had first met on the bus to Parris Island than the seasoned Marine he was now.
“Go toss the football. Your aim could use some work,” Aberlour ordered, shooing Oli away.
“Asshole!” He laughed and jumped up to return to the game.
Abe laid back down, incapable of hiding his expression of his pleased satisfaction as he basked in the world around him.
The hideous gargoyle was setting in the middle of the pool table. Those damned buggy eyes stared back at Aberlour.
“Fucking sick of it!” Carlos complained as he plopped down heavily on the wooden chair with the dramatic flair of a teenage girl.
“You’re the moron who got Dumber involved,” Marcus said, like Carlos had dug his own grave. This was true in this instance but pointing it out was a bit cruel.
Carlos growled and swore again.
Aberlour laughed at his friend’s pain, which only made Carlos growl louder.
Pacing the length of the pool table, Carlos raked a hand through his dark hair. It was short—regulation short, unlike Oli’s. He’d put his sling back on, but only because Oli had ordered him to. He’d played pool just fine earlier. Clearly the wound was healing well. While he was bristling with frustration, Carlos still looked good. Relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He was the spitfire of the group. Always wound up tighter than anyone else. It was the trait that had earned him the nickname of Chihuahua—or Chichi for short. That and his Mexican heritage.
“It’s pool! Not darts! I rule at pool!” Carlos protested with a whine.
