Page 14 of Her Summer Hope

John pulled his phone out and began furiously typing while Murdock chewed on a piece of cornbread from last night. They’d had chili and cornbread for three nights now, and even Aiden—who hadn’t said one word to anyone since he showed up—complained.

Kyle thought the lot of them were ungrateful brats who had stuff handed to them for far too long—foodwise, anyway.

“We can’t get the cleaners to cook up something?” John asked, grimacing at the pot.

Kyle gave him an incredulous look and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. It was just a thought. Don’t frag me, man.”

“Pizza will be here in thirty,” Evans said. “At least we only have one guest. Imagine if we had a full house. The pizza bill would be brutal.”

“Alright. John, you want to go see what Aiden wants to do? I’d like to talk to him if you can get him to come into the dining room. Tell him we’re working on the meal situation and if he wants something different, we can accommodate him.”

John was out of there before Kyle even turned around.

He put the lid on the chili and decided to freeze it later. He couldn’t bring himself to throw out good food just because they were all tired of eating it.

He’d had a solid lower-middle-class upbringing where chores got done without complaints, plates were cleaned, and thanks were given to his mom whether he liked the food or not. They were loving parents, but overworked. He had what he needed, but little else.

It wasn’t until he was older that his dad’s construction business got off the ground.

He had decided early on that he didn’t want anything to do with it. He wanted a different life. He wanted to serve his country. He wanted adventure. He wanted to be elite. Growing up, joining the Special Forces was his dream. As soon as he could, he contacted a recruiter and got the process started. He’d never looked back.

Until that last deployment. Until McClellan.

He was still immersed in his thoughts by the time the doorbell rang and the smell of hot pizza wafted into the dining room. Evans had ordered enough for twenty men and the driver had to make three trips to stack it all on the buffet.

Kyle tipped him generously, much to the driver’s delight.

Aiden came in shortly after, pushing his own chair and scowling. Kyle hadn’t seen anything but a scowl on his face since he’d arrived. He didn’t blame the guy a bit, but he was going to have to learn to get past the anger if he wanted to move on.

“Aiden?” Kyle asked. “What kind do you want? I think Wyatt ordered every kind known to man—” He opened a box and wrinkled his nose, “And some not.”

“Oh, that’s mine,” Evans said. “Anchovies, hot sauce, and pickles. It’s the bomb.”

“Dud, more like,” John commented, linking his hands behind his head.

Aiden’s lip twitched and Kyle didn’t know if it was in amusement or disgust. Whichever it was, he’d take it.

“Anchovies it is,” Kyle said, and made as if to put it on Aiden’s plate.

Aiden’s expression didn’t change as Kyle lowered the slice. He grinned a little and plopped it right down, watching an anchovy filet slide off in a river of white cheese.

Everyone watched in horrified silence, startled that he dared to joke with one so horribly wounded.

Aiden stared at him for so long that it almost became uncomfortable, when finally…he slid his hand across the table, picked up the slice, and took a bite.

“Good,” he grunted, lips twisting with a subtle smirk. The eye not covered by the patch gleamed with buried amusement.

The guys exploded into laughter at Kyle’s expense.

“Dude, he got you!” Evans said, chewing his nasty pizza with relish.

Murdock looked less angry and psychopathic than normal, and John was grinning and clapping his hands.

Aiden received the praise with a slight bow of his upper body, though his expression didn’t change much.

Kyle grinned and gave Aiden a nod of approval.

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