Outside, a pale, shaking Sean stood under the big oak tree. In the tree, a squirrel chattered at them as it hopped from branch to branch looking for acorns it was months too early to find.

Connor’s arms were wrapped around Sean from behind, forcing him to point the undoubtedly-loaded shotgun at the animal.

“Come on,” Connor goaded him. “Do it. You’re calling people pussies, and you can’t even shoot a goddamn squirrel.”

“I don’t want to shoot him! He’s just a squirrel.” Anger and fear battled in Sean’s voice.

“And that guy firing on you is just a guy. He’s just trying to live. But he’s the enemy. He’s coming at you with a gun or a rocket. Or the M-ATV in front of you got blown up and five of your buddies are scattered in pieces in front of you, and that goddamn squirrel is running up to you, and you know you’re next.” Connor’s voice was hard and gravely. Beau wouldn’t have thought he was capable of sounding that old and angry.

Beau crept up next to the pair, trying to find a way to get Connor’s attention without spooking him. There was no way he was touching either of them. He didn’t know much about PTSD, but he knew enough not to make any sudden moves on a man with a loaded gun.

“Connor?” he called softly.

Sean’s eyes darted to Beau as best he could without turning around. The boy’s arms trembled as he fought to lower the shotgun.

“Shoot him!” Connor yelled. “He just blew up your buddies. Last week, they went through one of their own villages and destroyed the well you spent three days building in the blazing sun while wearing fifty pounds of body armor. Shoot him!”

Beau was close enough he could see the rings of white around Sean’s terrified eyes. He had to do something. The squirrel had stopped moving and was sitting on the branch berating them for interrupting his meal.

Connor’s finger wrapped around Sean’s on the trigger.

Praying harder than he ever had for any goal, Beau reached down to the ground and picked up a rock. He pulled his arm back, aiming, and then let it fly.

Chaos erupted.

Sean dropped to his knees, dragging Connor into the dirt with him. The gun went off, the sound echoing across the field. And the rock hit the squirrel, knocking him to the ground where he lay twitching at their feet.

Connor kept his arms locked around Sean as the boy sobbed, clutching the shotgun to his chest. “That’s it, Sean. That’s death. You can’t undo that, Sean. No matter what you do, for the rest of your life, you will always know that that guy, or person, is dead and it’s because of you. Did he have kids? A wife? Parents? Dreams? Doesn’t matter. All dead. There are just some things you can’t undo, you can’t take back, and you can’t make better.”

Blinking away his own tears, Beau reached down and took the shotgun away from Sean.

Connor sunk down onto his heels, head in his hands. “You think it won’t matter if it’s the ‘enemy,’ Seanny.” His voice was almost too soft for Beau to hear. “But for the sake of your humanity, I hope to God that it does. Mostly I hope you’ll never know. Because it will haunt you. That…that shit will haunt you forever.”

Beau’s legs trembled with the adrenaline and his breath came heavily. Shooting a glance back to the house, he saw Fiona peeking through the curtain of the back window. Fingers shaking, he sent her a quick text. All good. Can you get the kids to bed?

Yeah. I’ll read to them.

I’m keeping the boys out here a bit. Thanks. You’re a superhero.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and rested a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Come on. Come to the trailer. Both of you.”

The brothers rose heavily to their feet as the squirrel shook off his stupor.

“Oh, thank God,” Beau said. Would it be alright if he put his arm around Connor? Or Sean? He wasn’t sure who was hurting more, and he didn’t want to make things worse. His arms ached to pull both of them into a long hug.

The squirrel screeched at the group before running back up the tree. As they made their way slowly to the trailer, the squirrel followed along the endless spreading branches of the live oak, stopping occasionally to yell at them and throw pieces of bark and old acorns at them. Beau thought they deserved it.

“Sit,” Beau ordered, pointing at the dinette. Connor and Sean slid on either side of the small table, heads hung down, breathing heavily.

Beau pulled three glasses and a bottle of the good stuff out of the cabinet over the sink and carried them over to the dinette. Connor looked up at the clank of the glasses hitting the Formica table top.

Beau poured two fingers of the amber liquid in two of the glasses, sliding one to Connor. He tipped a little less into the third one and pushed it to Sean. “Drink.” He sat down next to Connor.

Sean picked up the cup and sniffed it suspiciously. “Smells like syrup. What is it?”

“Maple rye. It’s good. Drink it.”

“I don’t think—” Connor said.

“Shut up and drink.” Beau matched actions to words and knocked back his drink faster than he normally liked to. He sighed as the sweet and earthy liquid slid down to warm him from the inside.

Across the table, Sean wrinkled his nose but did as he was told, swallowing the entire amount with one gulp. He coughed, drawing a quiet laugh from Connor, who sipped his much slower.

Beau poured himself another and held the bottle over Sean’s glass ready to pour another round. Sean looked over at Connor.

“Why not?” Connor said, swallowing the rest of his rye. He nudged his empty glass toward Beau.

“Hit me.” Beau obliged, refilling all three glasses. “Sip it this time,” he advised Sean. “What do you think?”

Sean shrugged. “S’okay. Don’t see what the big deal is, though.”

“Good.” Connor rested his elbows on the table, rolling the glass across his forehead. Under the table, his leg jittered against Beau’s. If Beau put a hand on his chest, he bet he would feel Connor’s heart pounding. Sean was pale and as skittish as a spooked mare. If Beau said the wrong thing here, Sean would bolt. Connor couldn’t leave with the way Beau had him trapped against the wall. He was surprised Connor had let him place him in that position.

They finished their second drinks in a silence so laden with unsaid words that Beau was surprised he wasn’t bolting. This was some heavy, real shit, and he was in no way qualified to deal with it. But he was all Connor and Sean had, so, if he wanted to help them repair the fragile bond between them, he was going to have to fumble his way through this.

Under the guise of stretching—and feeling like a fourteen-year-old in a movie theater trying to make a move on his date—he hung his arm over the back of the seat. Taking the hint, Connor sat back so Beau could touch him. Beau gently stroked Connor’s back out of Sean’s sight.

“Everyone feeling a little better?” he asked.

“I’m—”

“Sean—”

Connor and Sean spoke at the same time.

“Let me talk,” Connor said.

Sean nodded, but leaned back against the seat, cradling his empty glass to his chest and keeping his gaze locked on Connor. His cheeks were tinged pink, and there was a glassy look in his eyes, a combination of alcohol and adrenaline let-down.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “I’m so sorry.” The glass in his hand trembled the smallest bit against the table.

“You scared me,” Sean said.

Me, too, Beau thought.

Connor snorted. “I scared myself. I’m so sorry. I just…it was like, I couldn’t keep it down anymore. That game. The sounds. It just…” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyebrows as if trying to push the pain away. “I get so angry sometimes, you know? A lot. And I can usually…I’m usually okay. I am. I’m on top of it. But just,” he shook his head. “I saw you, and heard the gunshots, and saw the guys going down on the screen. And all I could think was no way. No fucking way is my little brother going to go through that hell.”

“Con. It’s not—” Sean flinched as Beau kicked him under the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Connor assured him. He reached across the table for Sean’s hand. Judging from the look Sean gave him, it wasn’t a commonplace gesture between them. Sean took his hand, and Connor gripped it tightly.

“You’re a great kid. Really. I’m so proud of you. You’ve been through some tough shit recently, and you’re holding it together better than I am. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you in the past like you needed me to be.”

Sean was blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears back. He nodded, obviously not trusting his voice not to crack if he spoke.

“Speaking of needing you,” Beau said. “Fiona’s holding down the fort in there. And she’s doing great. But it’s getting late. Do you think you could go help her get everyone ready for bed?”

“Oh, God,” Connor said. “The kids. I should go.”

“You should stay,” Sean said firmly. “I can take care of it.”

“I know you can.” Connor slumped back against the dinette seat and stared out the window into the dark.

“Be right back,” Beau said, rising from his seat and gesturing for Sean to follow him.

The door shut quietly behind them, and Beau took deep breaths of the fresh night air. “Jesus,” he whispered to himself. He put his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “You okay? That was some hairy shit, dude.”

Sean raked both hands through his thick dark hair. Longer and shaggier than Connor’s, it hung in his eyes so often Beau didn’t know how he stood it. “Real talk? He fuckin’ scared me. I thought he was gonna shoot me.”

Beau shook his head quickly. “No. I think he would shoot himself before he’d hurt any of you. Not that we want that to happen. I gotta get back in there. I’ll come in and check on you guys as soon as I can. Okay?”

“Yeah. It’s cool. We’ll be fine.”

“Good. Good.” Beau stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at Connor through the window.

“Go on,” Sean said. “I think he needs you. I don’t think he has any friends, you know? Except for the night of the storm, I’ve never seen him go out.”

“I’m not used to people needing me,” Beau confessed. “What if I fuck it up?”

Sean laughed and patted Beau on his arm. “Then you can consider yourself officially part of the family. Nah. Get him drunk or something. I don’t know.”

“Okay. Go on in. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” With a last squeeze to Beau’s arm, Sean walked away. Beau thought he seemed a little sadder, a little older, but maybe he was just projecting, because damn if he didn’t feel older and sadder than he had that morning.

Taking a deep breath and hoping he’d find the right words to help Connor, he went back into the trailer.