Gunshots are ringing out all around us, a frantic, deafening cacophony that drowns out everything but the corrosive need to survive. “Fuck, we are trapped!” I yelled, the words tasting like copper and adrenaline.
“Hallway clear!” Brody confirmed, squeezing my shoulder firmly from behind, his grip the only thing keeping me from spinning out into panic.
We pushed forward, moving in a practiced, deadly silence toward the source. Our comrade, covering the opposite flank, was just ahead of us. In the strobe-light flashes of muzzle fire, I felt my mind fracturing, but I desperately summoned the image of Jackson. I pictured him in a bright Seattle kitchen, the sun catching his beautiful face, infectious energy in his eyes as he grinned at me. That smile was my anchor, a clean, beautiful contrast to the grime and terror of this hallway.
All of a sudden, the drywall exploded into dust, a white, choking cloud, and a rain of bullets tore through the space.
I watched in horror as our comrade, who had been directly in the line of fire, crumpled instantly, a heavy, silent weight hitting the ground. The sight of another brother gone ripped through me, the raw trauma threatening to pull me under. I tried to hold onto the thought of Jackson’s hand in mine—warm, solid, and untainted by this violence—but the smell of blood was too loud. My focus immediately snapped to the man behind me.
I spun, slamming my hand against Brody’s chest and shoving him back violently around the concrete corner. “Brody, stay down! Cover!” I screamed, the sound of my fallen comrade echoing in my ears, but my priority was absolute.
Brody didn’t waste a second, pulling me back against the corner with him. “You too, Ry! Get your head in the fight!” he screamed over the gunfire.
My entire world narrowed to the horrifying sight of our fallen comrade, the raw, sickening trauma of the loss fracturing my mind. But even as the dust filled my lungs, I mentally reached for the quiet pond Jackson had promised. I could almost feel the cool Pacific breeze and see Jackson standing on the deck, waiting for me to come home. I gripped my rifle tighter, positioning my body to shield Brody from the line of fire. He was yelling, pulling me, trying to ground me, but my only clear thought was: He is not dying today. I won’t let him, and I have to get back to the man who makes me want more.
32
Letter
Jackson,
Today isn’t a good day. My head is everywhere. We lost today, that’s all I can say, but man… what I wouldn’t do for a cookie and a cuddle right now. To your question… I don’t think people would like the real me.
I caved, can I tell you that? Well, I didn’t cave exactly. Brody is a massive Tidal Teal’s fan and showed me a picture of an absolutely stunning defenseman. Your picture, Jackson, your face, that grin, fuck even those magical eyes, they got me through the worst day today. We are over eight thousand miles apart, and I’d do anything just to hold your hand right now.
Splash
33
Jackson
Right now, I’m looking at my life and thinking about where fairness is in the universe.
I’ve just read Splash’s brief, shattered letter, and I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror. How can I be a hockey player earning millions of dollars, while we have people in the line of duty just so I can play my shifts? I have to do more. I want to do more.
Grabbing my phone, I dial the only man I know who will have an answer. “Hey man,” I say. Donovan sounds completely out of breath on the other end. “Sorry, have I interrupted anything important?”
I hear some grunting over the line, followed by a door slamming closed. “No, you’re good. What do you need, Hayes?”
I take a deep breath. “So, I want to do something, but I have no idea what.” Did I really just say that to my captain?
“Erm, ok… you’re going to have to give me a bit more than that,” Donovan replies. Yeah, no shit.
“I got another letter from Splash,” I explain. “He said they lost people today. And here I am, not doing anything to help.”
Over the phone, I can hear Donovan making a drink, the clink of ice against a glass. “Hayes, you cannot say that you’re not doing anything. You’re always the first to volunteer for any charity events we host. Don’t think I don’t see the extra money you pass over at those benefits, either. They’re not part of the job; that’s all you, man.”
I didn’t realize anyone knew anything about those donations. “Yeah, well, I want to do something else. How about holding a themed game and raising money for a military charity?” My brain is racing now. “Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. Let’s talk to Coach later.” Hanging up, I felt a sense of purpose.
I close my eyes and think of Splash. I haven’t got a clue where he is in the world, but I want him to know that he isn’t forgotten. Every single day he steps out and risks his life, we will forever be in his debt.
34
Letter
Splash,
I wish I could smash a hole through the sky and drop a thousand boxes of cookies onto your bunk right now. Better yet, I wish I could skip tomorrow’s game, get on a flight, and bring them to you myself. If I were there, Splash, you wouldn’t even have to ask. I’d hold onto you for as long as you needed, and I wouldn’t let go until the noise in your head finally went quiet.
