Page 22 of Part & Parcel

“Yeah.”

“That’s not much better than a bomb.”

“No, it’s okay. They’re not putting us in the field. We’re just support. An outpost.”

Nick scowled at him. Ty was grinning, his eyes shining like Nick hadn’t seen in quite a while. Nick gave him a long-suffering sigh.

“They’re rebuilding the bookstore,” Ty went on, beaming. “Replacing everything we lost in the explosion. And they’re installing all kinds of Company-issue shit, Irish, it’s going to be fucking amazing. You’ll geek out over it just like Zane has, I promise.”

Nick brought a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose, grimacing as he recognized the light in Ty’s eyes.

“They tricked out the basement. They’re even putting a little elevator in, with one of those cage doors that close.”

“Do you fit in it?” Nick asked, smiling along with Ty’s enthusiasm despite his misgivings over the whole thing.

“I will admit it’s coffin sized. But cool nonetheless.”

“Ty.”

Ty gave him a mischievous smirk. “We’ll run the bookstore day to day, and the back room is only for . . . special deliveries.”

Nick sighed heavily.

Ty was grinning like a shark. “All the fun stuff comes through the back door.”

Nick rolled his eyes, fighting valiantly not to smile and give Ty the satisfaction. Ty was snickering, though, and he jostled Nick with his elbow, patting his arm and then squeezing it.

“I’ve missed you, Irish,” Ty said with relish. Nick turned his head, and when their eyes met, Ty’s smile faded into a more somber expression. “I’m sorry I left you behind.”

“Youdidn’t. If you had moved me with that knife in me, it would have killed me. You know that as well as I do.”

Ty adjusted his arm around Nick’s shoulders, squeezing him hard. Nick slumped a little more, resting into Ty’s embrace. They sat that way through all the pregame festivities, Ty’s arm warm and heavy around Nick’s shoulders, like a familiar blanket wrapped around him after a day in the cold.

Despite all the things they’d been through, together and apart, over the last couple years, this felt like old times. The easy camaraderie that Nick and Ty had enjoyed from the moment they’d met on that bus to Parris Island was back. And for the first time in twenty years, they could share every last part of themselves without the fear of secrets or the dull ache of distant longing coloring anything they said.

Nick savored every second of it.

When the national anthem was announced, Ty helped Nick stand, his hand gentle on Nick’s elbow. They faced the flag blowing in the spring breeze, and as if they were one entity, they each snapped into a smart salute.

When it was over and they were settling back into their seats, the stadium buzzing with excitement around them, an older man who’d been sitting a few seats down reached across the young boy who sat between him and Nick, and touched Nick’s arm to get his attention.

Nick flinched, then glanced at the man and the boy.

“My grandson and me wanted to thank you boys for your service,” the man said, his voice solemn. He held out his gnarled hand, and it trembled as Nick looked at it.

Nick took it, shaking it dazedly. “Thank you,” he managed. “And thank you for yours.”

The man nodded, then instructed his grandson to do the same as he shook Ty’s hand as well. The boy, who was anywhere between eight and twelve maybe—Nick had no idea how to tell the age of children—gave Nick a sideways glance as he tentatively shook Nick’s hand. Then he turned to his grandfather and hissed a question. He probably thought he was being discreet, but Nick heard him loud and clear: “How’d they know you were a soldier, Pop?”

The old man just smiled as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “It’s just something you know.”

Nick tore his attention away from the pair and glanced at Ty, frowning. Ty winked at him, grinning as he sank down in his seat and got comfortable again.

Nick took a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t deserve handshakes from veterans at a baseball game. Just like he didn’t deserve to hear Kelly say “I love you.” He’d lost the right to both those privileges and he wasn’t sure it was possible to earn it back.

“Hey.” Ty’s voice was sharp in Nick’s ear. “I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m a horrible sociopathic serial killer’ look.”

Nick jerked, meeting Ty’s eyes.

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