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Hunter scanned the menu as he answered. “Like four thousand? It’s been a while since I counted, but somewhere around there. Gotta keep these babies fed.”

He slapped each of his biceps, and Garrett snorted at him.

They were seated at the Cherry Meadow Diner, a Cherrywood favorite. The narrow restaurant featured red and chrome accents, giving it a retro fifties vibe that Garrett enjoyed.

Unfortunately, he’d made the mistake of mentioning that during a group breakfast, and his friends wasted no time teasing him for his age. There was a big difference between enjoying doo wop and being alive when it first aired, but his friends ignored that math.

“Way too much work. I can barely stand preparing three meals a day, let alone however many you eat.”

Hunter shrugged. “I have lots of time in the mornings.”

Working as Cherrywood High School’s athletic trainer involved a delayed schedule. Since he worked with the school’s sports teams, he didn’t have much reason to be at school during regular operating hours. He usually went in a few hours before school ended to prepare for the day and stayed until team practices and games finished.

That worked out great for Garrett, since Hunter didn’t need to rush off to work, unlike a couple other guys from the gym.

A year or two ago, Tobias stopped advertising their six a.m. class on the gym’s website. Since Tobias craved his privacy after retiring from the NHL three years ago, the early-morning class was the only one he taught, and he made it clear, without actually saying the words, that the class was for his close friends only.

It had been a blast watching Tobias try to explain that without expressing any emotion toward their tight-knit group. They called themselves the Gym Rat Pack. Garrett nearly died when he had to explain the reference to some of the younger guys.

Sometimes he felt old, but he could still run circles around all of them.

A server came by to take their order, both of them accepting coffee. Hunter drank his black, while Garrett doctored his own with cream and four sugars.

“You ready to tell me what’s bugging you today?” Hunter asked.

Garrett sighed. “Yeah, but I can’t tell you everything because some of it is cop stuff, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Hunter nodded.

It took Garrett a second to consider what he could and couldn’t tell Hunter. He probably shouldn’t mention the fake death or the drug cartel, especially when he didn’t have all the information.

“When I was in the Navy, I had this best friend, and we were as close as anyone.”

“Like Riley and Josh were best friends?”

Garrett chuckled. “No, our lives weren’t completely intertwined like theirs, and we didn’t wrestle or cuddle or anything like that. Unless it was for survival, but I don’t think that counts as cuddling. We had each other’s backs, and we trained together for years. It was pure luck that we ended up in the same unit.”

Hunter opened his mouth to speak, but paused and said, “Did you want it to be like Riley and Josh?”

Garrett took a sip of his coffee to stall, but finally answered. “Yeah, I did. And when I tried to tell him about my hopes for after leaving the Navy, he told me he wanted to live next door to me one day, with our wives.”

Hunter groaned. “So then what happened?”

Garrett took a deep breath, his words careful. “That night, he left my unit, and I haven’t seen him since. Haven’t heard from him. Not a word in twenty years. Yesterday, he stormed back into my life looking for help.”

The server chose that moment to arrive with their meals, Hunter’s a giant pile of food, while Garrett’s was a fancy omelet with hashbrowns. They both offered their thanks.

Meanwhile, Hunter looked concerned.

“I assume by help, you mean cop help?” Hunter asked as he picked up a slice of bacon from his plate.

“Yup.”

As Hunter ate, Garrett could see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” he asked, sympathy in his gaze.

Garrett cut into his omelet, chopping it into bite-sized pieces. When he finished, his omelet was scrambled beyond recognition.