Page 38 of Surfer's Paradise

And now he was fucked six ways to Sunday, and somehow the quiet between them felt louder than any deployment he’d ever survived.

The last thing he wanted was to talk about it.

So of course, the moment he walked into the garage to grab his gym bag, his phone started vibrating on the workbench.

Team Comms Chat.

Fuck his life.

Isaac picked up his phone, thumbing through everything he’d missed. The group chat was now called the “Isaac Rayleigh Emotional Debrief (feat. Adam Carrington)”.

Apparently renamed by Shay after Isaac showed up to work looking like he’d seen God and lost custody.

Colson:

Rayleigh, where the fuck are you?

Heath:

Late one hour.

That’s not normal.

Even for Isaac.

Isaac:

I’m not late. What the fuck?

Colson:

You forgot?

Isaac:

No.

Shay:

That’s a strong yes. Who is in your bed right now?

Adam:

Do I want to know what this thread is?

Heath:

We added you because you looked like a man one bad call away from screaming into a car stereo.

Colson:

You’ve been barking at the lieutenant colonel like your coffee betrayed you.

Shay:

This is emotional hygiene, sir. Mandatory.

Adam:

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