Page 35 of Sighs By the Sea

I step to the side. “Do come in.”

The men come inside, and Greg flips on a light as Tommy goes to my fridge. “You don’t have frozen mugs? Damn, Gray, I thought you were super organized, man.” Though Tommy and I have grown closer, I haven't spent as much time with Greg. From what I know, he's a nice man. A lucky man. With a wife and a kid. A man I wish I was. Same with Tommy, I guess. That's harder to be jealous of because he's with my cousin. Tommy and I did end up getting pie a few days ago, but I barely said a word the entire time. Good pie, though.

“I don’t drink beer that much,” I say casually. I much prefer red wine or bourbon.

“I guess it’s out of the bottles, Greg.” It's annoying how exasperated he sounds.

Greg is already sitting on the couch. “There’s a game on,” he says, already reaching for the remote.

I return to my recliner, already wishing for a top-off of my drink.

The TV comes to life, and both the other men are eagerly watching some team smash into another on the screen. The quiet suits me just fine, but when a commercial begins, Tommy mutes the sound.

“So, uh, George is gone, huh?”

I nod and sip my almost-empty glass. “Man, that blows,” Tommy says. He looks at Greg and rubs his neck. “I’d probably swim out to sea and never look back if my boys were taken from me.”

“George wasn’t taken. I sent him away.”

But Greg is shaking his head. “He was forced away, Grayson, by these people that want you dead.”

Though I know what Greg is trying to do, I still can’t fully accept the notion. “You know you did the right thing,” Tommy adds.

“I suppose,” I say. It’s hard not to add that it feels so wrong I think my heart will implode.

“And what about your girl? That little fiery detective?” Tommy asks.

“She doesn’t want a Cardenas,” I hiss, my faux Spanish accent coming out a bit more with the hatred of my last name.

“Oh, that’s not true. I saw the way she was looking at you. Like a hyena drooling over a giraffe carcass,” Tommy says. Both Greg and I level a strange stare at Tommy, and he shrugs. “The kids like nature shows.”

I crack a smile. George loves watching nature shows too and has seen some messed-up stuff about the circle of life. “TJ too. The kid might be a psycho. He loves big cats. Lions, cheetahs, panthers—they are brutal. I sleep with one eye open,” Greg says, chuckling.

I sit up a bit. “George runs around naked and hoots like a monkey sometimes. I try not to laugh, but…” the sadness creeps into my voice, and I swallow. “I miss my son.”

Both Tommy and Greg let out a sigh. “We know, man,” Tommy says. “But Greg has this guy, a PI dude that helped me with Tilly’s little issue. We thought maybe he could help. So we called him up. Conner.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Greg takes a drink, sets the beer down, then scoots to the edge of the couch. “He found a name. Axe’s brother is a Navy guy, stationed at San Clemente Airfield. Lars Courtney. He arranged a meeting.”

At that news, I get to my feet, a burst of excitement sobering me almost immediately. “When?”

“Tomorrow. But…” Greg looks at Tommy. Their friend nods as if to urge Greg on. “You’ll need an escort to get on base.”

“I don’t know any Navy personnel.”

“Cops can get on too,” he says. I’m already shaking my head. There is simply no way Maggie would help me after what I said to her.

“She wants nothing to do with me, trust me.” I did my very best to push us apart, and it worked. She hasn’t called or texted all week. Not that I expected her to.

Greg stands up. “Grayson, you have to try. You want George back, you gotta figure out who’s doing this.”

Tommy nods along. “And Tilly’s gonna go speak to Papa. But she has to wait for visiting hours over the weekend.”

The information buzzes through my head. It's a start. Something to do, a way to get my George back. Lori had no problem taking George back to Oregon, but I could see that she was tired. And I want George in my life more than anything. I want a nice house, a safe—but simple—life where our biggest worry is what's for dinner. This is a way to start toward that.

“I need to shower,” I say, unsteady on my feet.

---