Chapter Twenty
JED STARED at the grainy black-and-white images. They were old, so fucking old, but he remembered the events they depicted like they’d happened yesterday. Without warning, he was nineteen years old again, staring war in the face for the very first time.
The screams, the smoke, the blood. Fuck. He remembered the blood. Could feel it. Could smell it. Fuck. He remembered the blood.
“Jed?”
The boat shed slammed back into focus. He spun around. Max stood in the open doorway, his eyes wide and his face a picture of innocent confusion.
Innocence.
Did such a thing really exist? Jed’s heart said yes, but the haunting pictures in his hands told him otherwise. Anger surged in his veins, cold, bitter anger that consumed everything in its path like a wildfire in a drought-hit forest. “What the fuck is this?”
Max flinched. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Jed tossed the photos onto a nearby workbench. “Why have you got these?”
“I don’t even know what they are.” Max ventured closer and frowned. “Nope. Never seen them before.”
Jed laughed. It was a harsh, humorless sound. A few minutes ago, the only thing on his mind had been the feel of Max’s lithe, beautiful body writhing beneath him. Now he was so mad he couldn’t think straight. “You can’t be that drunk. They’re in your workshop.”
“Yeah,” Max countered. “And half the stuff in here isn’t mine. And why the hell are you talking to me like that? I’ve never seen these before, I swear.”
Jed stared hard at Max, watching him take in the images—the sand, the helicopters, the guns. Part of him was surprised such photographs even existed—war had been different back then… combat without a news camera shoved in your face—but the rest of him was fast becoming coolly detached.
He analyzed Max, searching every facet of his face for telltale signs of dishonesty. For a long moment, there was none, and his anger began to dissipate. There had to be an explanation, a logical bend in the road that had led them here… led them to be bizarrely caught between Jed’s past and his present.
Then something else flashed unbidden into his mind, something he’d ignored for far too long. “What’s your name?”
Max looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”
“Your name,” Jed repeated. “What’s your fucking name?”
“What? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Tell me your name.”
Max stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “You know my name, Jed.”
“Do I?”
Max froze, like he suddenly understood the gravity of the situation, like he suddenly knew he’d been caught.
Jed waited… waited for the indignant, defensive anger that would put the final nail in the coffin. It was classic, textbook human behavior, and though Max was unique in many ways, in this he was the same as any other man.
Max shoved the photos aside and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes flashed with a fire Jed had never seen from him before. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck has got into you, or what the hell these photos are, but you don’t get to talk to me like that. Not here, not in my own bloody home.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No, I’m not! I’ve never lied to you.”
“Oh yeah?” Jed picked up the box of old junk, the box he’d absently picked up to search behind for the missing cordless phone. It was only by chance that a typical, jarring pain in his leg had caused him to drop it and reveal the photographs hidden inside.
He jammed the box back on the shelf, scooped up the photos, and stormed past Max to the boat shed door. He didn’t look back to see if Max followed.
He knew Max would.
He crossed the yard and slammed open the cabin door. It smacked against the wall, gouging out a hole. He ignored it. The rented cabin was Max’s pride and joy, but in that moment, he didn’t give a shit. All that mattered was getting to the bottom of the sudden black hole between them.
He went to the sink, pulled out the locked medicine box, and busted it open on the table. Max flinched again. The unease in his eyes bothered Jed, but he was beyond reason. He rummaged in the box, spilling pill bottles and packets until he found what he was looking for.
“There.” Jed pulled out the Irish passport he’d found all those months ago and tossed it on the table. “If you’re so fucking honest, who the hell is Lamumba Moore?”
Silence. Max stared at the passport like he’d seen a ghost. Perhaps he had. “How did you know that was there?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it bloody matters. It’s not the sort of shit I leave lying around.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that? What have you got to hide?”
“Nothing.”
Jed closed his eyes, the fight in him gone. This was his fault. He’d known from the start that something about Max didn’t add up. He should’ve walked away, said thanks but no thanks to the room, and left Max standing by the lake.
But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d succumbed to the warm light that radiated from the spirited young man in front of him and let his attraction to him override everything he’d ever learned about dishonest human beings.
He knew Max had lied to him the very day they’d met, and he’d let it go. And for what? A quick fuck when he was feeling down? A helping hand when he felt like shit? A year ago, such foolishness would have got him killed. Life had changed beyond recognition since then, but the deception was no easier to take.
An ache formed at the top of Jed’s gut. He steadied himself on the kitchen counter. His gaze fell on the photographs again, and he shook his head, baffled. Nothing made any sense, but the pictures least of all. Max was seven years younger than him. He would’ve been twelve years old when Jed was shipped out to Somalia. Why the hell would he have pictures of a war he was too young to remember?
Why the hell would he have those goddam pictures?
Max turned his back on him and began gathering up the scattered medications. He threw them into the damaged box, his movements sharp and jerky. Even from behind, Jed could tell he was as worked up as he was.
Fuck that. Jed was angry, really fucking angry, but however mad he was, the last thing he wanted was Max dropping with a seizure.
“This is bullshit. Just tell me. Whatever it is. If you’re in trouble, I can help you. Or don’t tell me, and I can walk away right now. Nothing is worth this, Max. Trust me. This kind of shit fucks you up.”
Max placed the last pill bottle in the box with undue care and attention. It was Jed’s tramadol, the bait that had led Jed to the passport in the first place. Max attempted to close the broken box. When it didn’t work, he scooped it up and threw it at the cupboard under the sink, taking a chunk out of the door.
“You know what? Fuck you, Jed. When did you get to decide I had to tell you every little thing about myself? The only thing I know for sure about you is that you’re in love with a ghost.”
It was a low blow, and it had the desired effect. As Max walked away, every drop of anger drained from Jed, and in its place nothing but a gaping hole where his heart used to be.
Max was right—a huge part of him still loved Paul, but he wasn’t in love with him. Without even trying, Max had taught him that. Jed had let Max into his heart in a way he’d never let anyone before, and standing alone in the cold, dark light of the kitchen, he had no idea who he’d fallen so deeply in love with.
JED WRESTLED Tess to the corner of the gym and set her down, catching her tiny hands as she lashed out, furious with him for hauling her away from her game. “Hey, that’s enough. If you want to play ball, you have to be nice to your sister. If you hit her, or me again, I’ll take you home. Got it?”
Tess scowled, her annoyance clear, but Jed held his ground and counted to ten in his head. She’d been a handful all afternoon, and he knew why. Max hadn’t shown up at softball practice, leaving Jed to handle both girls on his own. Tess wasn’t used to sharing him, and though she hadn’t mentioned him at all, he knew she was unsettled by Max’s absence. Max never missed practice.
Guilt gnawed in the pit of Jed’s stomach. This was his fault. After Max had left him hanging in the kitchen, he’d done what he did best—gotten in his truck and run away. Max was long gone by the time he’d calmed down enough to come back, Flo too, and they’d been staying at Kim’s now for over a week. The nights were the hardest. By day, he could sleep, or run, or lose himself in his work, but at night, he’d grown used to the warmth of Max stretched out beside him.
“Did you fight with Uncle Max too?”
“What’s that, bug?”
Tess relaxed her aggressive posture and slid onto his knee. “Mommy had a fight with him. That’s why he went to stay with Aunty Carla. Why was he cross? He never gets cross, not even when Daddy calls him names.”
Jed glanced behind him, searching for Belle. He found her with Dan, but she wasn’t playing and she looked as miserable as he felt. “I don’t know why your mom and Max were fighting, bug, but I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”
It was news to Jed that Max wasn’t staying at the Cooper house. He’d driven into town two nights ago to double-check Max was there, safe and sound. Carla lived in Portland, near the VA hospital Jed went out of his way to avoid. He wondered what Max was doing with himself in the city, but tempered the thought before it could take hold and distract him from the underlying reasons Max was there in the first place. He missed Max so much it hurt, but underneath it all, he was too angry to do anything about it. Whatever his reasons, one way or another, Max had deceived him.
Softball practice dragged on for another half hour. Jed struck a deal with Tess—a promise of a ride on his shoulders in exchange for her civil behavior—but Belle remained sullenly rebellious, and he was beat by the time Kim pulled up in the parking lot. An afternoon spent crouched on the ground negotiating with mutinous children was exhausting enough on its own, but put together with a sleepless twenty-four hours, and he was running on empty.
Taking a page out of Belle’s book, he strapped both girls into the car and walked away before Kim could engage him. He wasn’t as lucky with Dan.
“Dude, you look like hell.”
Jed stooped and picked up a stray pair of tiny sweatpants. “Who went home without their pants on?”
“Mason. Megan’s brother. He likes to take his clothes off while he’s watching the game. Don’t change the subject. What’s up?”
“Up? Nothing’s up.” Jed folded the sweatpants and handed them over. “The girls were both in a bad mood, that’s all.”
Dan added the sweatpants to the growing pile of abandoned clothes in the plastic box he was carrying. “Bullshit. Kim’s been crying down the phone to my mom, Max has disappeared off the face of the earth, and you look like you haven’t slept in a week. Something’s up.”
“Max is in Portland with Carla.”
“Doesn’t explain the rest of it.” Dan stopped by his car and threw the box of lost property in the trunk. He shut it with a bang. “Listen, I know I don’t have a gun, or some badass, motherfucking tank, but I’m still your friend. You can talk to me.”
Jed suppressed a sigh. Really? Dan was gonna turn shrink on him? “Talk about what?”
“Anything, dude.” Dan spread his hands. “Putting your bro in rehab can’t have been easy. How are you dealing with that?”
“You think Nick’s beer fetish is keeping me up at night?”
“No,” Dan countered. “I don’t have a fucking clue what’s keeping you up at night. Enlighten me.”
That wasn’t going to happen, and they both knew it. They’d been friends for too long for either of them to believe shit had changed.
A mutinous silence took hold, and in the end Dan broke it with a heavy sigh. He socked Jed’s arm. “Fine. Have it your way. Some of the guys are coming over to play poker tonight. You should come. My dad would love to see you.”
He walked away before Jed could refuse.
Later that evening, Jed swallowed his pride and jogged into town to the Valesco house. Despite his best efforts to dissuade him, Dan was a good friend, and he didn’t often get up in his face about stuff.
The surprised grin on Dan’s face when he answered the door was kinda nice too. Dan had his own place above the family’s auto garage, but Jed was pretty sure he spent every night eating his momma’s home cooking before he went home.
“Dude, come in. The guys are in the den.”
Jed followed the sound of masculine laughter to the family room at the back of the Valesco family home. He recognized the names of most of Dan’s friends, though he struggled to place their faces. He’d found that happened all the time since he left the Army. Before, he could spot a faintly familiar face a mile away; now he didn’t care enough to notice.
He took a seat on the arm of the couch, eyeing the video game on the flat-screen TV. The fantasy kickboxing characters were almost 3D, so lifelike they seemed to jump out of the screen. Video games had changed since he’d last had the urge to play them.
“It’s like another world, eh?”
Jed glanced to his right. Somehow he’d missed Hector Valesco sinking into the seat beside him. “Sure seems that way.”
“Abuelo thinks so too. Sometimes the boys can’t play their games when he’s here. The noise is too much for him.”
Jed had heard that before—how soldiers returning from war couldn’t handle the computerized, Call of Duty gunfire. For a long time, he didn’t get it… didn’t understand how something so ridiculous could wield so much power over a battle-hardened soldier. Hector’s father had fought for Ecuador in the Guerra del 41. How could he be fooled by a simple video game? It didn’t make any sense to Jed until the sight of a lone man talking on a cell phone had scared the crap out of him, and then he understood it all too well.
Dan changed the game. Artificial mortar fire rocked the room. Jed felt the couch vibrate beneath him. Yep. He understood it all right. He just didn’t know how to fix it.
“Jed?”
“Hmm?”
Hector smiled. “Anna’s in the kitchen, son. Go and say hi. I know she’d love to see you.”
Jed admitted defeat and left the room. Hector had always been intuitive. For years, Jed and Nick had been wary of him, their knowledge of father figures based on their own, but over time, Hector’s kind eyes and gentle patience had won them over.
Anna was less subtle in her affections. “Jed! Come in, sweetie. Sit down, you look tired.”
Jed let her hustle him into a kitchen stool. He’d learned a long time ago that it was pointless to resist. He leaned forward and put his head on his arms. Suddenly, he really did feel too tired to hold himself up.
Anna bustled around him for a while, and Jed let her chatter soothe him into a light doze until the noise of ceramic on granite roused him. Anna placed a mug of something herbal in front of him. “It’s lemon balm. Carla said you like herbal tea.”
Jed sat up and drew the mug closer to him. He didn’t feel like testing his aching stomach, but the smell was nice. “Thanks.”
Anna took a seat beside him, sipping delicately at her own mug. “Carla said Max is staying with her. I think she likes the company, but Max… he’s not…. How do say it in English? He’s not a city boy, no? He likes his mud and his chickens.”
Jed had to smile at the endearingly accurate depiction of Max. It was simplistic, but so true. At least, true of the Max he knew. That Max enjoyed the city but craved the peaceful sanctuary of the quiet cabin by the lake. In that respect, they were the same.
“It’s not like Max to leave his home, Jed. Did something happen between you?”
The reminder that he’d driven Max out of his home stabbed Jed in the gut, but he ignored the pain and considered his answer. He wouldn’t bother with most people, but Anna was different. She had a way of getting under his skin. “We argued about something. Something he hadn’t told me.”
“Ah, I see. So Max has a secret? It can’t be a bad one. A boy like that has a good soul. You know this is true.”
“I know.”
“So, why punish him for something he cannot tell you? You have always carried secrets, Jed. I saw them in you when you were a boy, and I see them in you now. You fight so hard to protect others, and perhaps Max is the same. You are in love with him, no?”
Anna’s words cut deep, too close to the truth. Jed let out a shaky breath. Could he tell her? Could he really explain the clusterfuck his undeniable love for Max had become?
The oven timer beeped, breaking the spell. Anna squeezed his arm and rose to retrieve a dish from the oven. She set it on the counter, and the smell of the bubbling food hit Jed like a truck. His stomach rolled.
He stood and backed away. Reading his intentions, Anna moved to intercept him. “Don’t go, sweetie. Stay and have something to eat. You’ll feel better then.”
If only she knew. Jed sidestepped her, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry. I have to go. Tell Dan I said good-bye.”
He made it home in time to puke and collapse on the couch with a tentative plan to drive to Portland in the morning. Whatever… whoever Max was, he deserved the sanctuary of his own home.
Sleep found Jed and he woke early the next morning to Kim standing over him, the incriminating passport in one hand and the black-and-white photos in the other.
“Interesting reading material to keep on your kitchen table, Jed. Get up. We need to talk.”