Page 66 of Searching for Valor

twenty-three

Rylan staredout the passenger window of Shane’s truck, his knee bouncing with restless energy. The mountain roads twisted and turned like the knots in his stomach. Valor’s absence at his side felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and his head was too noisy without the dog’s quiet, grounding presence. He hadn’t wanted to leave him behind, but Shane had been insistent.

A road trip.

With Shane Trevisano.

The man who lived part-time in an off-grid cabin and generally hated most people.

His former commander.

Echo One.

You did this…

Rylan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out that goddamn nightmare.

Shane’s gravelly voice broke the silence. “You’re thinking too loud, Cross.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us are stoic bastards like you.”

Shane snorted. “You know, I think I liked you better when you were afraid of me.”

“I was never afraid of you.”

Shane glanced over, eyes narrowed in his scarred face. “Really? I seemed to remember a green tadpole who nearly pissed himself the first time I barked an order at him.”

Rylan rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t afraid. I was intimidated. There’s a difference. You try being the FNG on a team with the great Master Chief Shane Trevisano.”

Shane’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Not so intimidated anymore, are you?”

“No, because now I know you’re just a grumpy old man with more bark than bite.”

“Old? Jesus. I’m barely forty.” Shane sounded genuinely offended, and a real laugh—the first in a long time—burst out of Rylan.

Shane’s eyes crinkled at the corners, a rare smile softening his features. “Good to hear you laugh, Ry.”

The moment of levity faded as quickly as it had come, and Rylan’s gaze drifted back to the winding road ahead. “Where are we going anyway? You still haven’t told me.”

But he didn’t have to say a word as they turned onto a narrow road flanked by a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Suddenly, Rylan knew precisely where they were and what this road trip was about.

He stared over at Shane in disbelief. “We’re going to see Jax.”

“I thought it was about time.”

“Why? I mean, I understand why we spoke for him at the trial. He was sick and needed our help. But hetried to kill you. He almost succeeded in killing your wife. Why the hell would you want to see him now? You already did more for him than anyone expected you to do.”

Shane’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “He’s still our brother. And the only other person on this planet who knows what we lived through.”

Rylan’s jaw clenched, his prosthetic hand flexing involuntarily. “Brother? He stopped being our brother the moment he turned on you.”

Shane’s eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “See, that’s your problem, Ry. Everything is black and white with you, but the world—especially our world—is full of shades of gray. Like you said, Jax was sick. PTSD. Addiction. It fucks with your head. You know that. You live with it every day.”

“But I didn’t try to murder my teammate.”

“No, just yourself.”

Rylan flinched as if Shane had struck him. The silence in the truck grew heavy, thick with unspoken truths and shared pain.

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