Dubs’ mouth quirks. “Yes,cariño?”
“Shut up and pour the shots.”
My friend does what he’s told with a soldier’s salute.
“Glasses up,” Dubs orders. “To the brotherhood. To the ones who weren’t able to be here with us today, and to the brothers we’ve lost.Hooah.”
Tucky, Sweets, Lucy, Taz, and I all echo the sentiment before Hannah and Bri join in as we tip the shots back. The glasses land on the table with a unifiedthunk.
Another round is poured before the burn of the first has worn off.
“And this one,” Dubs begins, our shots lifted, “to Michael and Norman Shaw and Doug Evans.”
Bri’s head snaps to my best friend at the mention of her dad. She probably assumes I put him up to it, but this has Walker Willis written all over it—he’s good all on his own.
The two of them share a loaded look before Dubs continues. “Three men responsible for raising this idiot”—he points his shot at me—“into the badass man he is. One hell of a soldier, but an even better friend.”
My squad lifts their glasses higher in approval. I nod once. Anything more and I might crack.
“To them,” Dub says, everyone echoes.
Shots are thrown back, glasses discarded on the table. Hannah squeezes my hand and moves to leave, but I pull her back. “Where are you going?”
“I was gonna take my shoes off, my feet are killing me. That okay, soldier?”
I know how needy I sound, but I’m thankful she doesn’t call me out on it. She sits down next to our mothers and works the small clasp around her ankles.
To nobody’s shock, Dubs is still talking. He props the speaker on the table. “Alright, boys, time to celebrate. And I have it on good authority Norm loved this one.”
My narrowed eyes meet hisyou know you love megrin. He presses play on his phone. Beer bottles clink around me as the wave ofmemories wash over us all. All the times I blasted this song to lift our spirits. A song I grew up listening to with Nana and Pops.
A song I danced to in a dive bar with the woman across the deck who was barely more than a beautiful stranger at the time.
Four plucked guitar strings and Hannah’s gaze lifts to mine, her show-stopping smile a cupid’s bow straight to my heart. The guys belt out the lyrics behind me, reliving the glory days of nights we acted like fools singing it on post or wherever else we might have been on the globe when we craved a little taste of home.
But my head’s not there with them right now. It’s with the hazel-eyed, barefoot woman staring back at me.
I crook my finger, meet her in the middle of the deck. I pull her flush against me, a hand on her lower back. “You remember how to two-step, runaway?”
She curls her fingers around the hair at my nape. “Norm and I practiced a few times.”
I love you so much.
“In that case, I won’t go easy on you. Try and keep up.”
“Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”
Garth Brooks starts on about friends in low places while I take the lead. My buddies alternate dancing with Bri and Lydia. Mom manages a few spins around the deck with Dubs bearing most of her weight before she needs to rest again. And when she locks eyes with me over Hannah’s shoulder, her full-faced smile is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. I don’t know if it’s from watching the celebration or seeing me this content or merely being back in this place again that causes it.
So many questions remain unanswered, recovery timelines murky and unpredictable. There’s sure to be obstacles and challenges ahead, but I’ll be damned if that familiar hope doesn’t drop like an anchor in my chest anyway.
46
memories on a loop
Hannah
“What time is it?”Rowan asks, voice gruff with sleep.