I think of the million times Ryan made us run a few miles before school, and when we were home again, we’d run some more. Because he was a fitness freak, who refused to let me stay home alone while he ran.
So he made me do them with him.
“Ms. Nichols.” Finally, the man at the end of the line steps forward, his hands dug into his pockets, and the front of his suit coat folded over to hide them. He doesn’t presume to pull me in for a hug. He’s literally the first person today whodoesn’ttouch before allowing me a chance to decide first. But when I swallow the tears bubbling in my throat and offer my hand, he frees hisfrom his pockets and dips his chin, wrapping one palm around mine and resting the other on top, his thumb gently pressed to my knuckles and his fingers stretched along my forearm.
He’s larger than I am by a long shot.
Noted.
“I’m sorry. I don’t…” I study his face and the strong bone structure of his jaw. The gritting muscles in his cheeks, and the soft lines fanning from his eyes. “I noticed you a little earlier, but I can’t place you.”
“Lincoln Castro.” He shakes my hand. “I was a friend of Ryan.”
“Really?” Fresh tears spring to my eyes, burning the backs and forcing me to blink. “From the Army? I guess everyone else is busy, right?” I sniffle and swallow the croak in my throat. “Soldiers can’t just walk off duty without getting into trouble with their superiors.”
“Right.” He keeps hold of me, even as our shake ends, and scans my face with a dark, almost black stare. His lips twitch into the ghost of a smile, kind of like how Ryan used to do it when he wasn’t feeling all that smiley at all. “I’m glad I could be here, Ms. Nichols. I know you and Ryan were close.”
“Nova.” I roll my bottom lip and warm under his intense scrutiny.
I pull my hands back, but his stare grows more severe and his fingers cinch momentarily tighter, like he’s not ready to let go.
“Y-you can call me Nova,” I explain in the uncomfortable silence. “Um… I really appreciate you being here. Broke my heart a little when I realized no one came for him.”
He casts a fast glance toward the milling crowd as theywander off into smaller groups. “Seems a lot of people came for him.”
“They’re here for me.” My words crackle through the emotion in my throat, barely more than a whisper. “They’re here because it’s polite to say goodbye to someone who means a lot to someone you work with.”
“Which makes you extremely beloved.” His lips finally lift into a charming smile, pushing strong cheeks up and softening the darkness in his eyes. He’s got a battle-worn exterior I long ago came to understand. But when he smiles, I see the man he was before life turned hard. Before death became his career. “If they didn’t know him, but they cry for him anyway, means you’re kinda special.”
I link my fingers together and look up at the man who blocks only part of the sun. “I guess. Maybe. How long have you known Ryan?”
“I reckon six or seven years now.” He settles back onto his heels and rests his hands on his hips. But when he angles just a fraction of an inch to the right and disrupts the glare of the sun, warmth settles in my belly. Because I’m not the kind of person who would complain about such silly inconveniences. I wouldn’t have said anything at all. But squinting under the bright sunlight means stretching the cut above my brow. It means tugging on my wound until pain radiates along the side of my face.
He doesn’t speak of his act of kindness, and I don’t bring it up. But his small adjustment allows me an added level of comfort that thaws a layer of the ice wrapped around my heart.
Sweet guy.
“We served together and saw the world,” he clarifies. “Got to see the sun set and rise a million times over the years.”
“Yeah? He enjoyed the glare in his eyes, I think.” I choke out a small, pathetic snicker and shake my head. “God knows why. Normal human beings should be inside their homes during those dumb hours. That’s our basic human right.”
“So I guess you and your brother had different ideas of a fun time. How do you feel about oysters?”
“Uh…” I laugh in stunned surprise. “Oysters? I detest them. Why?”
“Ryan said the same a while back.” His smile is slow and lazy, his teeth perfectly straight and just dulled enough to prove he takes care of them, but without the added dental whitening my colleague loves so much. “You have that in common.” Dropping his smile and exhaling a breathy sigh, his eyes search mine. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Nova.”
Damn him! I was happy for a moment. I’d forgotten. But there he goes, tossing us back here to the cemetery. To my goodbyes. To the ache in my heart, and the universe’s complete refusal to allow me a moment of reprieve.
“Truly,” he rasps. “This was a tragedy that sits heavily on my heart. It never should’ve happened.”
“Yeah, well…” My voice crackles, forcing me to clear my throat. “I agree. It sucks.”
“How are you doing?” He nods my way, though I know he means the carnage left on the side of my face after flying amongst twisting metal and shattered glass. “I guess I hadn’t really prepared for the injuries you sustained after the accident. I was ready forhis.But I never once considered how sore you might be.”
“Not that it’s something you needed to consider. We didn’t know each other three minutes ago.” I reach up to touch my stitches, but when I remember the hundred sets of hands I’ve touched today, the germs I could introduce, and the infection I’d rather not deal with, I stop myself and re-twine my fingers. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It’s mostly itchy.”
He leans around and studies the side of my neck. “I’m glad you’re not in pain. Did you, uh…” He hesitates and straightens again. “Did they catch the person who hit you?”
