Page 48 of Valor on the Move
“Hasn’t Al told you everything already?” Shane smiled.
“Not the important stuff. For example, are you dating? And if you aren’t, why not?” She poked his polo shirt with her index finger.
“Nah. Not really the romance type, it seems.” But heat crept up his neck.
Jules didn’t miss it, of course, narrowing her gaze. “Ohhh, the gentleman doth protest too much. There is someone, isn’t there? Come on, I only ever dated this one, so I have to live vicariously. Spill it.”
“Hey, why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Alan nudged her playfully with his hip. “We got it right straight out of the gate in high school. We were dating savants.”
“We were indeed. When you joined up instead of going to college, I never thought we’d last.” She smiled up at her husband. “But I guess it was fate. Or stubbornness. Everyone told me I’d make a terrible army wife. Although sometimes I think being a Secret Service wife is worse. Thank goodness you landed a good boy who doesn’t take off for days at a time. Al says he’s a real nice kid. You like him, Shane?” She raised her hands. “Not that you have to like him to protect him. I know, I know. Just curious.”
“I do like him.” Too damn much.
“Oh, and don’t think you’re off the hook. I still want to know who this mystery man is.” Jules leaned in and murmured, “Is he in the service? Is he here right now?” She gazed around at the guests, some of whom were agents Shane recognized. “Come on, throw me a bone.”
Shane had to chuckle. “He’s not here.”
“A-ha!” Her face lit up. “So he does exist. All right, husband of mine. I expect you to get it out of him on your next shift. Use any methods necessary. The people demand the truth.”
As new guests arrived, Jules left to greet them. Alan shook his head with a smile. “Sorry about that. But gossip is a good distraction. It helps to talk about normal stuff.” He watched Dylan, who ate chocolate-dipped strawberries with a friend. “Even though there’ll never really be a normal again. Not the way it was.” He watched Jules go to Dylan, kissing his forehead and wiping chocolate from his cheek. “I don’t know how she can stand to even look at me. She says she doesn’t blame me. But how can she not? How can she not hate me?”
Shane frowned. “Al, it’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. Genetics aren’t something we choose.”
Alan’s distant gaze was still on his family, his voice strained and thready. “I’d do anything, you know? To save him. To make this easier for her.”
“Of course you would. They know that. We all know that.” Shane put his hand on Alan’s arm and squeezed.
Blinking, Alan snapped back to attention. “Shit. Sorry. Just letting my brain get away from me.” He smiled and waved to someone. “It’s so fucking weird, you know? We’re worried all the time, but we want him to be happy. We want him to enjoy everything he can. We try to still joke around, and keep things light. But when I laugh, or feel good, I remember Jess, and I think: How could I have laughed just then? How could I feel even a moment’s happiness when my baby’s gone? When my boy’s going next.”
Shane wished to God he knew what to say. More and more people arrived, and they’d surely want to talk to Alan. “Hey, let’s go for a walk around the block. Get away from the party for a few minutes. Regroup.”
Rubbing his face quickly, Alan took a deep breath. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’d better go talk to people.” He slapped Shane’s back. “Thanks for listening. I’m fine. Really.”
“Anytime.” Shane caught Alan’s arm. “I mean it, okay? Anytime.”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He tried to smile. “Hey, is Jules right? You seeing someone?”
“It’s nothing.” Shane waved his hand.
“Hmm. Anyone I know?”
Shane glanced around the backyard, looking anywhere but at Alan. “Nah.”
“If you say so.” Then to someone else, he called, “Good morning,” and squeezed Shane’s arm as he left.
Blowing out a long exhale, Shane went over to chat with other agents and make the highest auction bids he could. He rarely used any of the hefty insurance settlement he’d received after the fire, and he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.
Chapter Thirteen
It was late afternoon by the time Rafa emerged from his room. He’d claimed a migraine when his mother had knocked on his door that morning, and fortunately his family had left him alone. Chris had asked to come in, but he’d gone away when Rafa told him to.
Now Rafa was showered and dressed, his shirt crisp and his oxfords polished. As he reached the stairs, Chris’s wife joined him, wearing a green floral dress that brought out her amber eyes and golden hair perfectly.
