Jed laughed. The sound surprised him, Max too, and it was a telling sign of how long it had been. “And you thought a lack of appropriate footwear would stop me?”
Max stepped closer. He fiddled with the zip on his hoodie and pulled it halfway up Jed’s chest. “No, I just thought it might slow you down enough to wait for me.”
Jed stared at him, taking in his newly shaved head and bright, well-rested eyes. They’d both turned a corner over the past few days, and he couldn’t bear to see the light in Max dimmed by even a trace of self-doubt.
He pulled Max closer and pressed his forehead to his. “I’ll always wait for you.”
Day Ten
JEDWATCHEDthe familiar scenery fly by. Beside him, Glenn kept his eyes on the road, but a faint smile played at his lips.
“What are you grinning about?”
Glenn shrugged. “Nothing, just thinking about your boy’s face when he finds out you broke out of the asylum.”
“I didn’t break out. Isignedout, and anyway, he’ll know it was your idea. I told him you were trouble.”
It was true. Max seemed quite taken with Glenn, so it was only fair to warn him the old dude was a damn anarchist. A fair warning, given that Glenn had spent five minutes in his hospital room before he’d passed Jed his shoes.
“Fuck this,” he’d said. “I’m taking you home.”
Glenn snorted, but said no more, and despite the fact that the brief conversation was the first real words they’d shared in months, the silence that settled over them was easy and light.
His friendship with Glenn had always been that way. Each and every time they found themselves back together, they simply picked up where they’d left off as though nothing had happened.
Of course, this timewasdifferent. They’d come through loss, tragedy, and brutal violence before, but not on the same scale as what happened in Kirkuk, and the moment Glenn stepped into his room after days and days of mysterious absence, Jed knew they had a mountain to climb before they could overcome what they’d both been through.
Responsibility—that was the problem, and it was something they both wore like a noose. Jed would never get over the guilt of having his team obliterated under his watch, and Glenn, despite all he’d done to save so many, would never get over the aftermath.
“I like your boy.”
Jed tore his eyes from the window. “Hmm?”
“Max,” Glenn clarified, as though there was any doubt. “He’s a cool kid.”
“He’s not a kid.”
“I’m forty-two. Anyone under thirty is a kid to me.”
Jed let that one go. Forty-two Glenn might have been, but he didn’t look a day over thirty-five. “How long are you staying?”
“As long as you need me. I know you probably feel like that won’t be all that long, but you gotta be realistic, J. You’ve been through the wringer. It’s going to take you time to come back.”
Jed heaved a silent sigh, all too aware that he had a rough few months ahead of him. “Don’t put your life on hold for me. I’m going to be sick whether you’re here or not.”
“Still the charmer, huh?” Glenn deadpanned, but his expression remained serious. “I’m not doing it for you. How do you think I’d feel if I left Max to deal with you by himself? The kid deserves better than that. You both do. Besides, I’m officially over the hill. My life is my own for the first time in twenty-four years. I can do whatever I like.”
Jed was still coming to terms with the end of Glenn’s military career. In many ways, he’d found it harder to take than the end of his own, but Glenn’s choice of words stirred something in Jed.
Max deserves better.
Glenn eased the truck to a stop as the thought crossed Jed’s mind, but the passenger door was wrenched open before he could process that he was finally home.
Max shook his head, his smile a mile wide. “Do I even want to know?”
Jed shook his head as Glenn slid discreetly from the truck and disappeared into the night. “Probably not.”
Max helped Jed from the truck, shut the door, and leaned him back against it. He stared hard at Jed for moment, as though debating whether he was real.