The food Allison prepared for the farewell dinner was excellent, Ro thought, if you could chew through the thick layer of awkwardness that pervaded the whole affair. Even the five year old picked up on the tension. “Mommy, why is everyone so quiet? I thought this was a party?”
Graham was a no-show. He’d volunteered to take a command post shift instead, freeing up Jonah to attend. Ro didn’t hear what Allison said to Grace, but the little girl didn’t ask any more questions that highlighted the too-sober nature of the evening. Ro wanted to hide under the table, or better yet, run away. The self-doubt was beating her down, and she couldn’t manage to do more than push her food around on her plate. The barbecued pulled pork should have smelled delicious, but Ro’s stomach was churning too much to eat more than a few tiny forkfuls. She didn’t even bother picking up the sandwich.
“Babe, aren’t you hungry?” Zach’s expression was concerned. He offered her a homemade French fry from his plate. “Want one?”
Ro smiled weakly and wanted to kick her own ass for being so obviously miserable. But she couldn’t fake happiness. Being disingenuous … wasn’t her forte.
“I’m just tired,” she said, not mentioning that her boobs hurt, and she was starting to freak the fuck out about what that might mean.
Jonah stood, drawing the attention of all in the room. He raised his water glass and said, “I want to propose a toast. To the Callahan family: it’s been a pleasure to know all of you, and I hope you’ll always feel like you have a place here, if you need it. And if you don’t, may your stores be bountiful, your ammo dry and plentiful, and your lives happy. Take care of our boy; he’s one of the best of us.”
Everyone clinked their water glasses and finished dinner without further fanfare. The guys each stopped to slap Zach on the back and give her a hug. None of them said much more than, “Take care of yourselves.” Ro’s guilt grew exponentially.
“All right, see you bright and early,” her dad called, heading for the door. “This train is leaving at oh-six-hundred.”
Erica grumbled about getting up so early, but moved to the kitchen to help Allison and Lia clean up. Ro didn’t have the energy to offer, even for politeness sake. She wanted her bed and for the next twenty-four hours to be over.
Zach walked her back to her cabin and kissed her softly on the forehead. “I’ll be by in the morning to get you.” He plucked a peanut butter Power Bar from his pocket. “Just in case you get hungry. Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t eat a damn thing for dinner.”
She buried her head in his chest. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a drag, I just ...”
He kissed her forehead again. “I know, babe. This isn’t easy for me either.”
“Then why are you doing it?” she whispered.
“Sometimes you have to make the hard choice, because it’s the right choice.” He stepped away. “Now get some sleep. I love you.”
The door cracked against the wall, and Graham instinctively reached for his gun. Seeing Zach stalk into the command post brought on a sick feeling of déjà vu. The last conversation that had started this way hadn’t ended well. He forced himself to relax and reached for the half-empty bottle of Jack on the desk. Zach studied him as he poured the shot and tossed it back. Graham welcomed the burn of the whiskey streaking from his throat to his gut. He’d never been drunk while on duty, but this seemed like an appropriate occasion. He flicked a glance at Zach’s aggressive posture.
“She’s miserable. And it’s your fault.”
“That so?” Graham decided the mention of Rowan merited another generous shot. He sloshed the amber liquid into the glass and lifted it to Zach in a toast before downing it. The crack of the shot glass connecting with the table echoed like a gunshot in the small room. “Pull up a chair. I’ll even find you a fucking glass. We can toast your new future.” Graham had tried to avoid watching them celebrate tonight. Tried to stay out of the way and not color it with his bitterness, but he should’ve known Zach wouldn’t let it go.
Zach paced.
“Cut the shit, Graham. I know you, and this has to be ripping you up. But you walk around like it’s just another fucking day. We’re leaving. Tomorrow. There’s a chance you’ll never see Ro or me again. How can you fucking act like it doesn’t matter?”
Graham jolted up. The screech of the metal on concrete was as discordant as his thoughts. Fuck this shit. He grabbed the shot glass from the desk and hurled it at the wall. “You see that?” He pointed to the shattered glass. “That’s how I fucking feel about this. But what the hell am I supposed to do? Beg her to stay? Because I’m not going to put her through that.”
Zach reached for the whiskey. “Did you ever think about coming with us?” He paused to take a swig from the bottle before looking at Graham. “Did the possibility ever even occur to you?”
Graham yanked the bottle out of Zach’s grip and barely held back from heaving it at the wall. “Of course it fucking occurred to me. But you tell me how the hell I’m supposed to turn my back on everything and everyone here? How do I do that? Because I sure as shit don’t know how.”
Zach stood, face lined with strain and shoulders slumped in defeat. He walked to the door and paused at the threshold. “You just choose her.” He met Graham’s gaze. “I’m gonna miss you, brother.”
Graham was left alone, clutching the whiskey bottle with Zach’s words ricocheting through his brain.