Page 83 of Point of Contact

“The cottages are just past the flightline, Trev, and wait till you see them. Riley and I wished we’d stayed here the whole time.”

When Jesse pulled the motorcycle to a stop next to their assigned cottage, Trevor yanked his helmet off and dismounted. “Wow,” he exclaimed. “This is beautiful! Almost like a private beach.”

The handful of two-bedroom cottages were spaced far enough apart that the little slice of beach in front of each one did have an air of privacy about it.

“We saw seals sunbathing one morning, too. Really cool.” Jesse killed the bike’s engine and put the kickstand down. “So what’d you think of your first motorcycle ride?”

Trevor’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glowing. “A little scary, but fun,” he pronounced. “I’m sorry if I held on to you so tightly you couldn’t breathe.”

Oh, but I loved it. Jesse didn’t voice the thought aloud, only shrugged. “No worries. Maybe tomorrow we’ll ride around the entire length of the island, and I’m not sure there’s anything else that’ll make you feel quite as alive as that.” He dug the front door key out of his jeans pocket and headed up the steps.

“You left the rental car at the motorcycle place?”

“Yep. For the next three days, anywhere we want to go, we go by bike. Hope you’re up to it,” Jesse teased.

He showed Trevor where the master bedroom was, making his way to his own room to throw on a pair of board shorts. Leaving the cabin, Jesse jogged down to the water’s edge, diving beneath the waves and reveling in the shock of cold he so desperately needed, both for his sweaty body and for his libido.

When he came up for air, Trevor had spread a couple of towels in the sand out of the way of the tide, and his sleek dark head was bobbing in the surf not far away. Jesse swam over to him. “There’re some boogie boards in a storage bin on the porch. You game? The waves on this side of the island are way more intense than in Waikiki,” he warned.

Trevor gave a whoop. “Hell, if I can trust you with my life on the back of a motorcycle, boogie boards’ll be a piece of cake. Bring it on.”

Jesse grinned, striking out for shore to grab two boards.

By the time they collapsed down on their towels a short while later, Jesse’s sides hurt from laughing. Trevor threw a dark look at him, then at his boogie board. He aimed a kick at it. “Piece of shit,” he muttered, blowing out a disgusted breath.

“What? More like operator error,” Jesse hooted, yelping as Trevor reached over to shove him.

“I’m old,” he groused. “Can’t keep up with the kids these days.” He leaned back on his elbows, water coursing over his skin, his nipples pebbled from the cold. Jesse stifled a groan, fighting a sudden urge to lean over and warm those stiff buds up with his mouth. He’d lash them with his tongue, bite down on them—

With a silent curse, Jesse rolled to his stomach to hide his burgeoning erection, resting his head on his crossed arms. “You’re not old, and you did great for your first time,” he croaked. “Riley sucked at it, too.”

“Yeah?” Trevor’s voice was relaxed, his eyes closed as he tilted his head up toward the warm sun. “That surprises me because he was good at almost everything he tried. Football, baseball, even band.”

“Band?” Jesse lifted his head to stare at him. “He played in the band?” He snorted when Trevor nodded. “Fuck, if I’d known that, I would’ve given him so much shit. Band geek!”

“Yep, he played the trumpet.”

“Huh. Think you know a guy.”

They fell silent, the warm afternoon sun and the rhythmic shushing of the waves soothing, and eventually Jesse relaxed completely, slipping into a light doze.

“I could stay here forever, Jesse.”

Jesse dragged his eyes open, seeing that Trevor was now propped on his side facing him. He blinked sleepily. “Mmm. Me, too.”

“If you run to get some groceries, I’ll cook for us tonight. I saw a halfway decent grill on the patio.”

“Sure.” Jesse rolled over and arched his back in a long, sinuous stretch. “Since I’m starving and you owe me a steak, that sounds like a fantastic idea.” He rubbed his flat stomach as if soothing it.

“Great,” Trevor said, dragging his eyes away from Jesse’s hand, his voice slightly hoarse. “Lemme go make you a list.” He snatched up his towel and hurried back to the cabin as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

Jesse ran his fingers through his still-damp hair before pushing to his feet and ambling down to the water’s edge, his body feeling liquid and hot, a quivery sort of anticipation roiling in his belly and making him antsy. The whitecaps rolled in to crash against the powdery sand, water foaming around Jesse’s feet. God, Riley’d loved this beach. He’d gotten up at dawn every morning to practice his boogie boarding while Jesse sat on the patio with his coffee, laughing his ass off at his epic wipeouts.

Oh, Riles, I wish you were here with us, man.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Jesse snorted at the absurdity of it. If Riley was still alive, none of this would be happening. Trevor would be in Colorado, happily married to Carl, and he would still be in the Army, closeted, sneaking off for clandestine hookups at bars or, if he was really lucky, a blow job in an alley somewhere.

Jesse gazed toward the horizon, at the endless expanse of ocean. It was amazing how one man’s life—and death—had changed the course of so many others’, leaving people as adrift as pieces of flotsam on an angry sea. So much loss, so much pain, all because a bullet had missed one target and found its mark on another...