Page 35 of Embattled Return

“Thanks, Zeke.”

Logan watched the man leave, envying him his ease of movement. The guy looked fighting ready, and he wondered if there were ever any scuffles in the bar.

He watched Zeke cross to Ember. By the way her eyes widened and she shifted, Logan thought Zeke had stroked her ass beneath the line of the bar. They grinned at each other, and Logan felt a moment of remorse that he wouldn’t ever experience that kind of relationship. Once he talked to Miller’s family and found out what he could about his own family, good or bad, he was done. He would be exiting stage left and getting the fuck out of here.

The thought wasn’t as reassuring as it had once been, though. In point of fact, it chafed.

When Marigold returned to the table, he tried a smile on her, feeling like an ass when she blinked in shock. Maybe he had been a prick to be around, he realized. Or maybe his face just looked especially bad when he smiled. Shit.

Marigold returned his smile, though, as she slipped into her seat. She seemed a little flustered as she took a sip of her cola. “Zeke is a good guy.”

“He is,” Logan agreed, reaching for the basket in the middle of the table. He popped one of the golden bundles into his mouth and jerked. “What the fuck is this?”

Marigold giggled, reaching for one as well. “Deep-fried pickles.”

Logan made as much of a face as he could, pushing the basket toward her. “They’re all yours.”

He glanced around the space, looking at the memorabilia on the walls and hanging from the rafters. “This is a neat place. Again, thank you for getting me out of the hotel room.”

“No problem. I know I would go nuts cooped in a little room like that. And even with your mobility issues, there are other things that you can do and appreciate.”

“Yeah,” he said, softly, appreciating that she hadn’t let him shove her away. Marigold had been nothing but kind to him. Everybody had been. Zeke’s words rang in his mind, nagging at him. Abruptly, he came to a decision. “I’m going to take that room at Nancy’s.”

Marigold’s mouth dropped open and she blinked, obviously shocked. “What about your no commitment, thing?”

He shifted, feeling uncomfortable under her probing look. It had been less than two hours since he’d said that and he hated to be called on his shit. “I still don’t want any commitments, but I’m sick of the hotel room. Depending upon what John finds, and another task I have to do, I’ll be here at least another week or two. Might as well be more comfortable during that time.”

Smiling broadly, Marigold reached out and touched his hand on the table. “I think you’ll enjoy it there. And though Nancy appears effusive, she knows when to give you space. Plus,” she said considering, “since you look like her W.C., I think she’ll appreciate having you in the house. As long as you’re willing to stay.”

Ember brought their food, then, with Zeke trailing behind with drink refills. “Enjoy, guys,” she told them, dropping an extra stack of napkins on the table before they left.

The food was upscale grub and Logan realized how hungry he was at the first bite. They’d had the coffee earlier but obviously it hadn’t been enough. He plowed through the food, honestly surprised at the quality. Bar food tended to be fried and unhealthy, but his steak tacos were freshly made and loaded with vegetables. The steak was so freaking tender.

“Ember does most of the cooking,” Marigold said around a mouthful of grilled chicken, “and I will say her Friday catfish fry is out of this world. I’ll have to bring you sometime.”

He nodded. “I can go for some good fried fish.”

What the hell. If life was handing him opportunities, maybe he needed to start taking them.

So, when she asked about his other task, he looked at her, debating, and let some of his tightly-held control go. “I have to talk to my best-friend’s family.”

“Oh!” she looked confused. “Are they local?”

“Boulder,” he said. “On the north side.”

“That’s not far away. Is he going to come down and get you?”

Logan stared at her for a long minute, then blinked and looked down at his uneaten food. He wiped at his forehead, as if he could still feel... then he used his napkin to wipe his forehead, not understanding when he didn’t see the blood he could feel rolling down his skin. Miller... Miller was nowhere to be seen. He wouldn’t be grinning at him again or punching him in the shoulder... Flashes of a monochromatic sandy landscape pinged through his brain, with the guys laughing and joking and shooting and fighting. He’d been with Miller since he’d been deployed and they’d fallen into such an easy, brotherly relationship. It had been like nothing he’d ever experienced. Miller had been the brother he’d literally dreamed of having.

But he’d died. And Logan hadn’t. It was so unfair, giving him a brother, then taking him away.

Logan drew in a ragged breath and closed his lids, his eyes dry from not blinking. Then they flushed with too much liquid, and his throat tightened. Tightening his jaw, he turned his head. Marigold had moved her chair. She was now sitting right beside him, with her arm around his waist. He hadn’t seen her move or felt her touch until now. Stiffening his shoulders, he drew away. And she let him.

Dropping his head, he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. Embarrassment washed through him. “How long was I gone?”

She was watching him carefully, her expression not giving anything away. “About ten minutes. Long enough for your food to get cold.” She forced a smile, but the corner of her lips quivered.

“I’m sorry, Marigold. Did I say anything?”

---