Sidewinder stood amongst the neat rows of white marble that stretched as far as the eye could see. They stretched too far, there were too many, so many lives lost and remembered on the sacred ground of Arlington Cemetery.
Nick held Elias Sanchez’s last letter in both hands. The paper trembled in the breeze. It certainly wasn’t Nick’s hands trembling. It certainly wasn’t that.
Zane stood to the side, watching solemnly. He didn’t feel as if he belonged on this last task. It was too personal. Too hard.
“Who wants to go first?” Kelly finally asked. They all stood staring down at the headstone. No one answered him. No one moved.
After a solid minute of silence, the crinkling of the paper in Nick’s hands finally urged Kelly into action. He stepped forward, twisting his hands together, and cocked his head at Eli’s grave.
“The last words we had were over the phone,” he began. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
Zane had to strain to hear what he was saying, and he edged a little closer and placed his hand on the small of Ty’s back under the guise of offering silent support.
“We were talking about going hiking. He wanted to come to Colorado and spend a week at the camp.” Kelly snorted and smiled, glancing over his shoulders at the others. “He had a plan for an adventure trek. And he couldn’t even get it out because he was laughing so hard halfway through. You know that laugh he had, where his whole body shook and he started wheezing?”
The others chuckled and nodded. Digger wiped a hand over face, hiding his eyes behind his palm.
“He told me he’d email me his idea because he kept giggling,” Kelly said, gazing at the headstone and shaking his head fondly. “The last words I said to him were, ‘See you soon, babe.’ And his last words to me were . . .” Kelly seemed to stumble over them, swallowing hard a few times. “He said, ‘Be good, Doc.’ And he hung up.”
He wiped a hand across his mouth, his head lowered, and then he knelt on one knee and put his palm on the top of the headstone. “See you soon, brother,” he whispered, and after another few seconds with his head bowed, the wind ruffling his hair, he pushed to stand again and stepped back. He leaned into Nick briefly like he needed the contact to comfort himself, then stood straight again, chin up and eyes on the marble.
“He was laughing last time I talked to him, too,” Digger said without preamble. He glanced around almost self-consciously and stepped toward the headstone, getting down on both knees, shoulders slumping as he sat back on his feet. “He called me, said he needed one of my mama’s recipes. The hotter the better, he said he wanted it to hurt coming out the other end. I told him he’d have to barter with her for it, so he sent her a basket of avocados over the internet. Fucking avocados. I called him to cuss his ass out, and he just laughed. Same kind of laugh he gave Doc, I bet. He told me to enjoy my fruit dip, then he said, ‘Love you, sweetcheeks.’”
Digger laughed, grinning wide as he touched his fingers to the top of the headstone. “And the last words I ever said to him were, ‘Love you too, pookie.’ And we hung up. And the next call I got was from Rico telling me he was gone.”
The group was silent as Digger’s fingers slid off the headstone. “Love you too,” he whispered. He didn’t get up like Kelly had, he just remained slumped on the ground.
Soon enough, Owen got to his knees beside Digger, their shoulders pressed together, both of them hanging their heads. Zane glanced at the others to find Ty standing with his eyes closed, his face raised to the breeze.
“He called me to tell me he was coming to San Diego when he finished the case he was working on,” Owen announced. “Said he wanted my help tracking down someone. He’d explain it when he came into town. I think he was planning to hunt down his son.” Owen knocked on the ground in front of the grave with his fist. “I’ll find him for you, bud.”
Zane glanced at the others again to see Ty watching Owen sympathetically, and Nick and Kelly both standing together, their heads lowered, their hands clasped together so hard Kelly’s knuckles were turning white.
“Last words I said to him,” Owen continued, his voice going hoarse and wavering. “I said, ‘Stay out of trouble, chief.’ And he told me, ‘No promises.’ Then he laughed and hung up. He laughed.”
Owen nodded as his hand clutched at the manicured grass over the grave. He brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them, then pressed them to the letters engraved on Eli’s headstone. “Stay out of trouble.”
Ty leaned back into Zane’s hand, sniffing. “I didn’t answer his last call to me. I was busy,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “He left me a message. Last time I talked to him was in person, I saw him when I was passing through New York. We met for a drink. He gave me a hug before I got in a cab to head for the airport. Tight hug, you know? Like he did. Patted me on the back and messed up my hair. I told him, ‘I’ll see you around.’ And the last thing I heard him say was, ‘Safe trip, bro.’” Ty closed his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. He breathed out shakily and stepped around Nick and Kelly to kneel beside the headstone. He placed his hand over the top, patting it with his fingers. “I’ll see you around,” Zane heard him whisper.
He stood up almost immediately, stepping away and glancing at Zane with glistening eyes. Zane gave him an encouraging nod. He knew how much Ty had tortured himself in the years following Eli’s death, how often he had wondered if answering that last call would have saved his friend. Ty stepped closer, and Zane pulled him under his arm, hugging him silently.
The paper in Nick’s hands rustled in the breeze. Kelly turned to face Nick, leaning forward like he was trying to get a good look at him. “Nick,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to Nick’s shoulder.
Zane scowled, wondering why in the hell Kelly would push Nick into taking his turn when this had to be hard for everyone. But then Kelly stepped closer and wrapped his arm over Nick’s shoulder, and Ty broke away from Zane’s grasp to go to Nick’s other side like he sensed something wrong.
Zane realized, with a sickening twist in his stomach, that Nick was slowly sinking to his knees. A rock, finally crumbling to pieces. Ty and Kelly couldn’t keep him on his feet, and he hit the ground hard, his head hanging, the letter crumpled against his belly as he clutched at it. Zane heard a quiet sob as he moved to help, and when he caught sight of Nick’s face, he saw tears trailing down his cheeks. He took a step back, knowing there was nothing he could do to help. He didn’t belong in this moment.
“It’s okay, babe,” Kelly whispered as the others silently watched Nick, seeming to be at just as much of a loss as Zane was.
“I can’t remember,” Nick managed to say as he raised his head. His eyes welled, and he tried to take a breath, but it turned into a wavering, distraught gasp. He stared at the headstone, another tear breaking free and trailing down his cheek. “Why can’t I remember?”
No one moved. No one even seemed to be breathing, and the breeze picked up as if it was trying to cover the sound of Nick’s words. He stared at the headstone, gritting his teeth. Then he lowered his head again and covered his face with one trembling hand. His shoulders shook, but he made no sound as Ty and Kelly both wrapped their arms around him, trying to comfort the kind of pain that Zane knew no one could soothe away.
Nick raised his head again, and Zane found his throat tightening sympathetically as he watched the man fall to pieces. He’d never fully realized what these men meant when they said brother, but watching them, he was beginning to understand now. Nick reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out, looking at it as it sat in his palm. It was a dime, probably the same stupid dime he’d found on the ground that they’d been using to toss when they made decisions. The Dime of Fate, they’d called it.
Nick smacked the dime onto the top of the headstone, lowering his head as he held on to the marble for dear life. He was crying again, his shoulders trembling, trying and noisily failing to catch his breath.
“It’s okay,” Ty whispered into Nick’s ear, tugging at his arm. When Kelly and Ty struggled to their feet to pull Nick off the ground, Zane looked away. It didn’t feel right to be privy to the pain on Nick’s face.
Digger and Owen moved with them, each of them edging in to hug Nick, murmuring to him, pulling him away from Eli’s grave.
Zane stood alone, hands stuffed in his pockets, the breeze tugging at his hair as he watched Sidewinder stagger away. He glanced down at the grave, at the dime reflecting in the sunshine.
“They still need you,” he whispered to Eli. He was shocked to find his own voice wavering, and he cleared his throat, feeling sort of stupid. He swiped his hand over his mouth, leaving one last request before walking away. “Don’t leave them yet.”
The morning after Nick and Kelly returned home to Boston, they allowed themselves to sleep in. It was glorious, and even when Nick rolled himself out of bed and mumbled something about breakfast, Kelly remained happily tangled in the sheets. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, catching up on all the sleep he’d lost the last couple weeks, but when he finally did drag himself up the steps to the galley, he was surprised to find the Fiddler empty, the stove cold.
“Nick?” he called, even poking his head through the hatch to check the flybridge when he searched the yacht. But Nick was nowhere to be found. When he returned to the galley, he found a slip of paper he’d overlooked on his first glance around.
It was a note telling him Nick had gone for groceries, since the Fiddler’s galley was barren.
Kelly wound up out on the foredeck, face turned to the sun, book forgotten on the table next to him. He heard Nick when he boarded the yacht, but he remained where he was. Nick would find him soon enough, and most likely join him. They might have been on a vacation the last week, but it had been anything but relaxing. They deserved to lounge around on the boat for a couple years.
“Thought you’d be out here,” Nick said softly when Kelly heard his footsteps approaching.
He turned his head, shielding his eyes against the sun as he squinted up at Nick.
Nick sat on the lounger next to him, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His expression was solemn, his forehead deeply lined and his mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown.
“You okay?” Kelly asked.
“Yeah.”
Somehow, Kelly didn’t believe him.
“I got some supplies,” Nick went on, either ignoring Kelly’s trepidation or oblivious to it.
“Supplies for what?”
Nick took a deep breath, and when he blew it out, he seemed relieved somehow. He tore his eyes away from the horizon, and met Kelly’s with a wistful smile. “It’s time to put the Fiddler back together. She served her time. She deserves to be made whole.”
Kelly sat up and swung his feet to the warm deck, reaching for Nick’s hand. It trembled in Kelly’s fingers, and Kelly squeezed it gently. Either Nick hadn’t taken his medication . . . or he was taking too much.
“Will you help me?” Nick asked him.
Kelly nodded. “Of course.”
They spent the next weeks taking their time with the Fiddler, putting back every piece of her that had been torn apart over the last few years of gun battles, fighting, and physical and emotional turmoil. There was one bullet hole that Nick wouldn’t let Kelly fill, though. Nick didn’t seem to know why, but he said he needed it to stay there.
So Kelly left the bullet hole as it was, and slowly but surely the rest of the yacht was put back together. The door and the salon walls that had been shot apart by CIA agents and Nick’s shotgun were replaced with decorative teak pieces that fit seamlessly into the original panels.
The doors to both cabins—the guest cabin that Zane Garrett had practically ripped off its hinges, and the main cabin that he’d obliterated with that same shotgun—were both replaced with doors straight from the shipbuilders. Kelly was relieved to be able to shut the door to their cabin again; it meant feeling safer as he slept, and not having to quiet themselves when guests stayed on the yacht.
And finally the bunk room, which had originally hosted two oversized single bunks and a small closet space, was made whole again. At first Nick had suggested making it a space for Kelly. But after some thought, Kelly realized that having the two bunks there meant space for the other Sidewinder boys when they set sail, and that was all Kelly could ask of the Fiddler.
Kelly and Nick sank into a glorious rhythm, almost the same level of comfort they’d enjoyed before they’d become a couple. Kelly knew the peace wouldn’t hold, but he was willing to take it as it came. The only thing bothering him, three weeks after they returned to Boston from their Great Sanchez Trek of 2013, was that Nick disappeared once every day for about half an hour.
Kelly hadn’t noticed it at first because Nick was pretty good about casually going off on errands and returning without being suspicious. But Kelly soon picked up on it, mostly because Nick grew increasingly anxious as the weeks marched on. It was the first week of July when they finished the Fiddler’s rehabilitation, and they were sitting on the deck enjoying the feeling of accomplishment when Nick announced that he was going to head out for more beer before the stores all closed for the Fourth of July holiday.
“You have to go now?” Kelly asked him, too tired and buzzed and sunburnt to get up.
“The packie’s going to close, we’ll go the Fourth without beer!”
Kelly narrowed his eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” Nick insisted, and he headed inside before Kelly could protest more.
Kelly scowled as he watched him go. What the hell was Nick doing every day that he had to hide it from him?
He lounged on the deck, worrying about it for the next twenty minutes, but true to his word, Nick was back with an armload full of alcohol and groceries. He came out to the deck and sat on the lounger next to Kelly, his expression unusually solemn.
Kelly raised his head when Nick rested his elbows on his knees and frowned at him. “You okay?” Kelly asked. A feeling of dread settled in his belly. He couldn’t make himself sit up, though. Somehow fighting against the sun made it seem easier to face what had to have been bad news, if Nick was making that face.
Nick’s fingertips played over his bare finger, where the tan line left behind by his absent claddagh ring was beginning to fade. He chewed on his lip for a second, then nodded in answer. “Kels,” he started, and he took a deep breath, like he was steadying himself. “I need the ring back.”
Kelly blinked at him, and Nick must have taken it as confusion, because he held his hand up and wagged the ring finger where his claddagh ring usually sat. “Oh,” Kelly managed to get out. His mouth was dry as he twisted the ring off his finger. He was proud of himself for keeping his hand steady when he wordlessly handed the ring to Nick.
Nick plucked the ring out of his palm. “Thank you,” he whispered. He smiled gently as he reached in his pocket, and when he held his hand out again, a little ring box was in his palm. “It finally came in the mail.”
Kelly stared at it.
Nick’s grin widened. “I thought it was time you had your own to wear.”
“Really?” Kelly blurted, his voice breaking as he sat up and swung his legs over, bumping Nick’s knee. “Is that where you’ve been disappearing to? The post office?”
Nick nodded. “I hope you don’t mind I picked it out. If you don’t like it, we can find something else. But this just . . . it felt like you.”
Kelly took the box and narrowed his eyes at Nick. “Where’d you find this?”
“Saw it in Colorado, had one made for you and shipped back here.”
Kelly gazed at him for a few seconds longer, then lifted the lid of the box carefully as his nerves tumbled. It was hitting him that this was real, that they’d done this and it was sticking this time. That this was an honest-to-God engagement ring.
Inside the felt box, he found a simple tricolor band with a metal interior, and an exterior ringed with white, turquoise, and brown. He immediately loved the colors, and he grinned when he pulled it out of its cradle.
“It’s made of turquoise, wood, and antler, with a titanium inner ring to make it strong,” Nick explained. “The artist assured me he finds all his materials, none of it is harvested.”
Kelly ran his thumb over the smooth surface.
“I don’t know much about the Ute tribe,” Nick continued. “I was going to research them, see what their customs were. I know that part of your family is important to you. But when I saw this, I just . . .”
“It’s perfect,” Kelly said, grinning at Nick. He slid it onto his finger, holding it out so Nick could see.
Nick’s thumb ran over the ring, sliding down Kelly’s finger until he got to the tip, where he gripped him harder and tugged. Kelly scooted closer and kissed him.
“Can’t believe you managed to do this right under my nose,” Kelly said. “Again.”
Nick actually smiled and kissed him harder, pulling him closer. A month ago, that joke would have had Nick averting his eyes in shame. They were taking baby steps, but they were definitely getting there.
Kelly grabbed his face and returned the kiss enthusiastically. “I have a question,” he asked between kisses. Nick hummed and pulled Kelly even closer, forcing him to climb into Nick’s lap. “If you’re the son of an Irish mobster, does that mean we have to invite him to the wedding? What’s the protocol on that?”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” Nick kissed him again anyway.
Kelly finally pulled away from him and stared at Nick wistfully, the weight of the new ring on his finger a conscious thing. “There’s some things we need to do before we settle down.”
Nick grunted in agreement. “Should we make a list?”
“A list isn’t a bad idea.”
Nick tugged at Kelly’s hand, brushing his nose against Kelly’s, his lips against Kelly’s. “Where do we start?”
Kelly shoved off the lounger so he was hovering over Nick, his head tilted sideways so he could kiss him. Then he backed away just enough that they could meet each other’s eyes. “I say we figure out what’s first the way Sidewinder always has.”
Nick’s grin was suddenly terrifying, and Kelly kissed him hungrily. When they parted for air, Nick was humming delightedly. “I’ll go get the dartboard.”