Page 63 of Point of Contact

As he re-tied his sneakers, he caught a glimpse of Trevor staring straight ahead, his fingers clenched tightly on the red pack.

“You have a flashlight?” he asked, and Trevor jumped, like he’d been completely lost in thought.

“Yeah, and plenty of water. Some for you, too.”

Jesse pulled his own day pack out from behind Trevor’s seat and checked over the contents. “Okay, I’m ready.”

They headed out, Jesse taking the lead, and the pinkish glow in the sky faded, darkness settling over them. The moon was bright enough to see the trail, so Jesse didn’t bother with his flashlight. As he walked he breathed deeply, searching for calm, reminding himself over and over that he was at home in Colorado and not on night patrol in hostile territory.

The trees are different. The sky is different, light pollution from the city instead of a million stars. No monkeys.

Jesse kept cataloging the ways the two forests didn’t compare, and the surge of initial adrenaline finally receded into something more manageable. He could hear Trevor walking behind him, his footsteps loud as he scuffed along, kicking rocks and pebbles to skitter off into the underbrush. The lack of noise discipline made Jesse grit his teeth, and he couldn’t help but scan the treetops, looking for threats.

“You okay?” Trevor’s voice was slightly breathless from exertion, a little bit husky, and Jesse jerked his attention away from potential ambush spots and focused on the trail ahead.

“Yeah,” he replied, striving to keep his voice even. “I’m fine.”

Jesse wanted to keep talking, wanted to find a topic of conversation that would distract him from his anxiety, but he was one hundred percent here for Trevor tonight, and he was determined to let Trevor set the tone.

It seemed like forever until they reached the overlook spot, and Jesse was drenched in a nervous sweat despite the coolness of the night. When Trevor dug a water bottle from his pack and held it out to him, Jesse winced at how his hand shook as he reached to take it, praying Trevor didn’t notice.

They sank down to sit on the rock bench, and Trevor let out a small groan. “It gets a little easier every time, thank God, but I still feel it the next day.”

Jesse swished a little bit of water around his mouth, leaning to the side to spit it out. “How many times have you been up here this month?”

“Three,” Trevor admitted. He waved his hand at the vista below, the twinkling lights of the city, the red-and-white streaks from the cars on the interstate. “I can only imagine how much he loved this view.”

Jesse swallowed his next mouthful of water. “He did. He told me more than once how relieved he was to be stationed back in his home state after boot camp. Not everyone is that lucky.”

They fell silent and gazed out over the vista, the wind shushing quietly in the trees behind them, a few insects chirping. At last Trevor sighed. “In a lot of ways you know him better than I ever will.”

“Trevor—”

“It’s true. You saw a side of him I can’t imagine he would’ve ever let me see.”

I can’t relate to that, and he can’t relate to this.

Jesse winced, thinking of Riley’s words to him that night in their hooch. “All I know is that your son loved you. So much. He talked about you all the time, and I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. He respected and admired you.” He paused. “You raised him to be a good man, an honorable one. I know it’s not much comfort.”

“It is.” Trevor looked at him, his voice suddenly a little stronger. “It’s a lot of comfort, Jesse. More than you know.” He dashed the back of his hand across his eyes. “I bet he thought all the wedding stuff was stupid, though.”

Jesse was startled into a laugh, deciding to be honest. “Yeah, he did,” he admitted. “He wasn’t looking forward to wearing a top hat and tails, I can tell you that. Said he’d feel like a fuckin’ penguin.”

Trevor gave a watery snort. “Oh, boy. I can picture him saying that, too, clear as day. But the thing is, I know he would’ve done it, with a smile on his face, never letting on how ridiculous he thought it was.”

“He said if it made you happy, that’s all that mattered.”

When Trevor looked at him again, the flash of mischievousness in his eyes reminded Jesse so much of Riley that he caught his breath.

“If I tell you I thought it was stupid, too, would you judge me?”

Jesse burst into laughter. “Never! When Riley would tell me about it, I used to think, ‘To each his own, man. To each his own.’”

“Good ol’ Carl.”

Jesse hesitated. “You, uh, hanging in there, as far as that goes?”

He’d called Trevor to check on him that morning after the zoo, and God, he’d wanted to find that fucker Carl and punch his lights out at the sound of the quiet pain washing through Trevor’s voice. “He left me, Jesse. It’s for the best.”