Page 71 of Warrior's Walk

My curiosity gets the better of me. “Was this who you had to meet up with?”

“It’s my best friend’s birthday. I couldn’t let him celebrate alone.”

Fuck. This is his best friend? The man buried here was his brother.

Grief stabs me right in the heart. It’s Brian all over again.

“He’s been gone just over a year now,” Nash says. His voice sounds thick with unshed tears. “He lived a great life, but he died a terrible death.”

“What happened?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer. It’s too raw, too real. The wound of losing Brian is too fresh.

“We got separated from our unit, kicking down doors, and fell through a trap in the floor. We were held captive for twenty-two days.” He laughs harshly. “Just saying that doesn’t even begin to summarize the hell we lived through day after day. You can’t even imagine—” his voice cracks, and I watch his throat work furiously, trying to hold back the damn of tears. “We both were shot, but G, he didn’t make it—sepsis. He died slowly, painfully, his organs shutting down one by one. We were together, though, right till the end. Right until they came for us and put us on the bird to take us home. I never saw him again after that, after I let go of his hand. I was laid up in the hospital recovering when they buried him.”

“It was.” I clear my throat. “It was the same with me and Brian. I was at Womack with two broken legs. I couldn’t go and bury him.”

“It’s not too late. It’s never too late to say goodbye. I think,” he starts, pausing to swipe at his eyes and nose, “I think time stands still over there; that time is infinite. They don’t know or care if it’s one day or ten years, but when you finally make your way to him, he’ll know. He’ll hear you.”

My chest feels heavy, and the pressure clouds my head. Hot tears roll down my cheeks. They blind me until I can’t see outward, only inward. Memories of Brian flash before my eyes—laughing and smiling, drinking with me, grocery shopping and playing video games, running beside me during PT. I can hear his voice.

God, what if it fades someday? What if I forget what he sounded like, what he looked like? Remembering hurts, it fucking kills me, but I don’t ever want to forget.

“Maybe, when I finish therapy and I’m a little stronger, I’ll take a road trip. You ever been to Fort Worth, Texas?”

“No,” he smiles, swiping at his eyes again, “but I’m down anytime you’re ready. The first tank of gas is on me.”

It’s late when I come in from work, and Riggs’s house is dark and silent. The curtains to the sliding glass door are drawn and billowing in the breeze, and I realize it’s open. With a little smile of satisfaction, I strip my clothes off as I head out back. I can hear the hot tub bubbling as I approach. Riggs’s dark head rests on the edge of the tub.

He looks momentarily surprised, probably to see me naked, but hides it well behind his usual mask as I climb in. Neither of us says a word, and I follow his lead, resting my head against the edge of the tub to stare up at the many stars above. It looks almost fake, it’s so beautiful.

Finally, he reaches over the edge of the tub and grabs a glass from the little table there, and hands it to me.

“You skipped breakfast this morning.”

“You made me a green juice? Aw shucks, you shouldn’t have, really.”

He laughs a little. But I’m touched, the way he takes care of me, always concerned about my health and recovery, even after the way I treated him.

“You want to tell me what that was about today?”

No accusations or pointing fingers, no raised voices and drama. I love that about him. Riggs is a great communicator, better than I am, for sure. It’s good that one of us has a cool head most of the time.

I down the juice in three gulps and cringe at the nasty, bitter taste. “That shit is straight up disgustin’.” He raises his brows, staring into my eyes. “Oh, you’re still waiting for an answer?” I breathe out a heavy sigh and set the glass down on the edge of the tub. “My mom is sick, or somethin’, but she won’t tell me what. She’s keepin’ it from me because she thinks my problems are more important than hers.”

“I figured as much. You’ve got to push her though. You’ve got to get her to open up.”

“I can’t—” the urge to swallow is so strong I can’t resist, “I can’t lose her, too. I’ve already lost so much. But my mama, I can’t, Riggs. It’ll kill me.”

He moves closer, sliding his arm around my shoulders. He feels like a solid presence, like safety,like home.

“No, it won’t. It won’t kill you. Nothing will kill you, except maybe me if you ever blow up at me like that again in my gym.” I glance sideways and chuff at his expression. “We’ll figure it out, together. I promised you that, and I mean to keep my word.”

All I can do is nod and trust in him, ’cause I’ve got no answers and no bright ideas. “So, about the sleeping arrangements tonight. Have you decided on the couch, your bedroom, or the tub?”

It’s his turn to laugh. “You never quit, do you?” he asks fondly. “I guess it was a given the minute you saw me naked last night.”

“Hell,” I scoff. “It was a given when you asked me to move in.”

“I didn’t ask you to move in,” he laughs incredulously. “This is temporary.”

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