Page 2 of What I Should Have Known

“His son was killed in combat a couple of years ago,” Mikey replied quietly.

Like Velcro, I peeled my gaze away and closed my eyes.

It was what it was.

All of this was.

I hadn’t chosen this hell, but here I was. Here we were.

With no words to say, my throat numb, I tramped across the saturated grass back to my vehicle.

“To Duncan,” Griffin said, raising his glass.

Downing the shot, I leaned back in my seat. Being surrounded by my team should have been more comforting, but not having everyone here felt incomplete. At least we were all dry and dressed in civvies. The loud, joyous chatter bouncing around the bar along with the booming music should have lifted my mood, but even the alcohol swimming warm in my veins barely numbed the pain.

And I wasn’t one who typically enjoyed drinking, but it would’ve been nice to have the edge taken off.

“Not exactly the reunion we were hoping for,” Ford muttered, sliding a finger across the rim of his empty shot glass. The circular, ebony-stained table between us reflected the dark gloom hanging above our heads.

It was lively here, nearly every available space occupied by a smiling human celebrating something. The earlier crowd of doom that we were had been pushed out by the evening crowd. Maybe that’s what we should have been doing as well.

Commemorating Duncan’s life, not drowning in misery.

“He wouldn’t have wanted to go out any other way,” Griffin said, his tone shifting into something more… just more. It seemed I wasn’t the only one wanting to honor Duncan. And not in such a depressing manner.

Two hours and several rounds of shots later, Mikey leaned sideways, slinging his arm around Scottie’s shoulders. The blond hair upon his skin stood out against her dark shade. Despite the contrast between them, they fit.

“You have a big fucking head, you know that?” I slurred at him.

He tossed his chin to the ceiling and laughed. “Duncan mentioned that once or twice. And not just figuratively.”

“Yours is big, just figuratively,” Ford bantered at me, turning his baseball cap backward.

“And you need to cut your fucking hair, big guy,” Griffin snapped.

Ford bellowed, pulling his hat off and shaking his locks out. “My mama finds it beautiful.”

“Your mama finds Bernie beautiful, so that doesn’t say much,” Mikey quipped and slung back a swigof beer.

“That makes two mamas who find me beautiful, how many do you have?” I taunted in response.

Mikey grinned. “I was just too beautiful that my mama had to go to another realm to find anything as amazing as me.”

“Your mama went to another fucking realm to get away from you.” I wiggled my brows.

“At least my mama doesn’t have to see your ugly ass face every day like yours does.” Mikey slid an unopened beer bottle across the table at me.

“Even his mama actively chooses to not look at his ugly ass face every day,” Ford inserted.

“Yeah, ’cause then she’d see me fucking your mama,” I said, grinning at Ford.

Griffin sat silently, a wide smile on his face simply watching the drunken banter. “I see not much has changed,” he muttered, leaning toward Dom beside him.

Dom shook his head. “Not much.”

“Yo,” I inserted, popping the cap off the beer and nodding at Scottie, who sat directly across from me. “Ten bucks says I can flick this bottle cap between your fingers.”

“You still owe me forty bucks,” she replied, raising a brow. “Sure you can afford fifty?”

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