Page 48 of Point of Contact

Jesse pushed to standing, shaking his arms out and rolling his head. “God, I can’t fuckin’ sit still right now.” He glanced at Trevor. “You wanna go hiking with me, just get out of the house for a while?”

All of a sudden that seemed like the best idea he’d ever heard of. “I’d love to.”

Jesse asked if he’d make them some sandwiches while he ran to Goodwill, and his voice was so calm, so matter-of-fact, that Trevor didn’t realize what that meant until Jesse’s truck was already disappearing down the street.

Riley’s clothes, the things he wore, that smelled of him, that maybe had a strand of hair or two still on them! Trevor ripped open the front door and ran out onto the walk, waving his arms, but it was too late. He bent over and braced his hands on his knees, fighting back sobs.

“He doesn’t need them anymore,” he reminded himself. “He’s dead. They’re just clothes. They’re just worthless old clothes.”

Trevor sucked in great gulps of air, feeling the panic slowly recede. Jesse promised him he hadn’t gotten rid of the jersey, the one Trevor bought Riley the day they’d scored tickets to watch Rockies batting practice.

“Daddy, there’s Todd Helton!”

Riley bounced up and down behind the barrier separating the observers from the players, his brand-new jersey swallowing him whole, hanging almost to his knees. He clung to Trevor’s hand as the beefy six-foot-two player approached, a friendly grin on his bearded face, to work his way down the line signing autographs in programs, on baseballs. When he reached Riley, Riley was almost in tears from shyness and hero worship, barely able to manage a tremulous smile for the picture Trevor snapped on his camera...

Trevor still had that picture, framed, on a bookshelf in his office. A precious memory, and one that could never be taken away, no matter how many old pairs of jeans were gotten rid of. Feeling more in control, Trevor trudged back into the house, his bare feet almost numb from the cold sidewalk.

After a stop in the bedroom for some socks and sturdy sneakers for hiking, Trevor made two thick peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and grabbed two apples from the crisper in the fridge. By the time he was done, Jesse was back, tapping lightly at the front door before letting himself in.

Trevor handed him his lunch bag, and a couple bottles of cold water.

“Do you need a day pack?” he asked. “You can borrow Riley’s if you want.”

“There’s one in my truck,” Jesse replied. “But thanks.”

Trevor nodded, and went to unearth his own pack from the bin in the garage, letting his fingers drift across Riley’s bright red one, stained and battered from the many, many hikes he’d taken over the years.

On impulse he grabbed that one instead, holding it on his lap as Jesse drove them north out of the city, taking the exit for the Air Force Academy.

“This is where we’re hiking?” Trevor asked as they approached the sentry gate, Jesse smoothly downshifting to slow the truck before reaching for his wallet in the console.

“Yep. One of mine and Riley’s favorite spots. They’ll need to check your ID.”

In moments they were through the gate, and Jesse navigated about a half mile inside the base, eventually pulling off into a dirt parking area.

“This is a thirteen-mile loop,” Jesse told him as they shouldered their packs. “We don’t have to do the whole thing, though, if you don’t have time.”

“I have all day.”

“Good.” Jesse led the way to the trailhead, and before long was several strides ahead, his pace fast and determined.

“Hey, slow down!” Trevor called after him, panting. “Old man here, you know. And I haven’t hiked in forever.”

Jesse stopped, turning to wait for Trevor to catch up. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not used to hiking for fun anymore.” Trevor could see his eyes darting as he scanned the towering trees around them, and he was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, as if preparing to explode into action.

“Is everything all right?” Trevor asked carefully, and Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a breath.

“Yeah. I know I’m not in Afghanistan anymore, but fuck, I feel so naked without my M4.” He glanced around. “So many good ambush spots here. I can’t—”

His forehead gleamed with sweat now, and Trevor’s heart ached at his obvious distress. “Let’s go home, Jesse.”

“No. This is ridiculous.” Jesse ran his sleeve across his face. “I can do this.” He started off again, this time matching his pace to Trevor’s. After a minute he croaked, “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know! Just—” Jesse made a visible effort to moderate his tone. “Anything. Just talk. Over there we had to hike in silence, always watching, always listening—” He opened and closed his fingers over and over, as if trying to grip something that wasn’t there.

Trevor desperately cast about for a neutral topic, feeling as if he was letting Jesse down, when suddenly Jesse blurted, “Why didn’t your husband help pack up Riley’s room?”