Page 5 of The Night Ride
None of Evan’s family did.I seethed at their severe lack of judgement, but I understood the sentiment.Evan wasn’t an amiable guy on good days.And hold on to your butt if you wronged him, even if it had merely been his perception that you crossed an unforgivable line, because he never let you forget your transgression.As if he didn’t have any faults when the man had plenty.
He never forgave me for kissing Beth on the dance floor five years ago.He considered it a grave injustice to our oath of honor.
Now, he never would.There would be no absolution.No forgiveness to ease my soul of one fewer burden.It was just one more thing within my fucked up existence I would carry to the grave and compartmentalize until it no longer ached.
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose.Unbelievable.I could recall that damn kiss with perfect clarity.Because I had become obsessed over a fucking kiss from five years ago.Just a single fucking kiss.
Except it had been more than that.It was the memory of how Beth felt in my arms while we swayed to the music.It was the way she smiled at me with her sultry, goddess hazel eyes.The disarming scent of her perfume, roses and vanilla, would forever haunt me.And the shocking punch of lust that riddled me the moment our lips touched had nearly brought me to my knees.It had been the best damn kiss of my life.I’d never wanted to sink into a woman the way I had with Beth—not even my ex-wife.
I wiped a frustrated hand over my face.Thinking about it—about her—made me feel like a sick fuck.It was only a kiss and tame by comparison to some of the things I’d experienced.
Pissed at my disastrous train of thought, I yanked my rucksack off the passenger seat and climbed out of my Shelby.
Looked like I was the first one to arrive besides Wyatt, but it was his house.I packed a rucksack with a spare change of clothing and stashed it in the Shelby before the funeral.I figured one of us would host a shindig after the funeral.A chance where we could get drunk, toast Evan, and forget that one of us could be next.
None of us chose an easy life.But easy was for pansy ass motherfuckers who never truly lived.We might be balls to the wall crazy, but at least we could say we lived before we skid sideways into our graves.Most people simply existed and never understood the thrill that came with challenging your body, mind, and soul every day in service to something greater than yourself.
Jesus.I couldn’t imagine what Evan had been thinking.The fucker shipped a package to Wyatt’s house for us like everything was hunky dory.Then that same night, he went into his room on base, put the barrel of his rifle in his mouth, and checked out for good.
Wyatt’s house was a single-story ranch in a peaceful neighborhood.He moved in after he got divorced.Wyatt never talked about his failed marriage.But I understood it.I hated the memory of the moment when I received divorce papers.I’d been stationed in Iraq and had lost my mind a bit.
Evan had been there.Yanked me from the unholy destructive fury that beset me.And he had insisted upon celebrating my freedom, followed by Wyatt.
The five of us were the last of our old unit.In a few weeks, our unit would be disbanded, and we’d report to our new units.By order of succession in our current unit, Wyatt was in command now.
As the first to arrive, I parked the Shelby in the driveway beside Wyatt’s ancient tan Ford truck.Damn thing looked like a work truck one would find on a ranch.
Heading up the drive, the exterior of Wyatt’s house was a sedate, cool blue with ivory shutters that the man kept in pristine condition.I didn’t know when he found the time to maintain his house the way he did, considering how often we were stationed on the other side of the globe.
I rang the bell before walking in, giving him a heads up that someone was entering, and found Wyatt in the kitchen, seasoning five thick steaks.My mouth watered.We were all avowed meat eaters.
“Hey man.”
Wyatt didn’t glance up from the raw meat.We took our grilling seriously around here.And Wyatt barbecued with the best of them.“Might as well snag one of the spare bedrooms before the rest of the crew arrives, otherwise you’ll be on the couch again.”
Wyatt had already changed out of his dress blues.The guy left Arlington not five minutes before me and had already changed into jeans and a black tee shirt with a metal band’s logo etched across the front.But it was why he had been made second in command of our unit.His calm demeanor didn’t display the competitive beast inside him.Fucker could still beat my run time even with the four seconds I shaved off my time.“Thanks, I will.”
I left Wyatt contemplating the seasoning on the steaks and took the second biggest bedroom in the house behind Wyatt’s master suite.Dude was a no frills decorator.The queen bed with the wooden Amish bedframe had a simple hand-spun quilt in navy blue with matching nightstands, a single dresser with a mirror, and a bookshelf full of dime store thrillers.
That’s it.There was no memorabilia hung on the walls.Nothing to distinguish it as his place.But that was Wyatt.He was a man of few words and played his hand close to his chest.
I respected the fuck out of him.
More than ready for a beer to wash away the stale flavor of death, I changed.Folding my dress blues before storing them away in my rucksack.I’d have to get them dry cleaned since I got mud on the right pants cuff.But that was a problem for another time.
In cargo shorts and a tee, I rejoined Wyatt in the kitchen and sniffed the air like a wolfhound.“What do I smell?”
“Potatoes baking.Got them into the oven as soon as I arrived home.”
“You had time to prep potatoes and get them in the oven before I arrived?”
“Nope.Prepped the potatoes before I left for Arlington.While I changed, I let the oven heat.”Wyatt shrugged and then finally shot me a glance.“There’s beer in the fridge.”
“Thank fuck.”
Making myself at home, I headed over to the fridge and was amazed.The dude could cook.It was why his fridge was stocked with things other than old pizza boxes and takeout containers.I could scramble up some eggs and I wasn’t half bad at grilling either.It was a pastime I intended to pursue heartily if I decided to retire in two years.
But the sides and fixings would likely be store bought as usual.If it weren’t for the prepared food section in the deli at my local grocery store, I’d likely starve.
