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The whispered words melted his heart. Years fell away as he turned and gazed down into Marnie Edwards’s face. She was older, of course, her face fuller, with time etched into the lines around her eyes and mouth. Her dark hair was elegant, hitting the curve of her jaw in a blunt cut. She wore a smart black suit, with a dash of red in the scarf draped loosely about her neck.
Marnie opened her arms, and he grasped her small frame close to his. She trembled against him. “I knew you would.”
Grief welled inside him. Hard, like a fist turning in his chest. He couldn’t speak; his throat felt like it was clogged with sawdust. So he just held her, took her warmth and strength into his body, and closed his eyes.
“Cain, thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
Cain looked up, kept Marnie secure in his arms, and nodded to Steven Edwards. Pain shadowed the older man’s eyes, and Cain swallowed hard. “Sir, I tried to get here for the funeral, but…”
Steven Edwards nodded. “I know, son.”
“Jesse would be so happy to know you’re all together.” Marnie wiped her face and slipped from his embrace. “Mackenzie and Jacob are out back somewhere.” She crossed to her husband’s side. “You should go see them.”
“Is my mother…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to gain control over the emotions inside. “I tried to get hold of her earlier, but she didn’t pick up.”
Marnie smiled warmly. “She’s here somewhere, helping with the food, I think.” She glanced up at her husband. “It’s good now. We’re all home.” Marnie motioned toward the back of the house. “Go, the boys are waiting.”
Cain nodded and slipped through the small groups of people gathered in the hall. Muted voices and snatches of conversations followed him as he entered the kitchen and headed toward the patio doors. He recognized a lot of the faces, smiled, said hello, but didn’t stop to talk.
The deck was crowded, and conversation halted as he stepped outside. Hot sunlight filtered through the vine-heavy pergola overhead, and the scent of lilac filled the air. The bushes alongside the pool house had grown a lot. They were in fact twice the size he remembered and were full of fragrant white and soft purple-colored blooms.
His gaze wandered past the deck. There was no one here he wanted to talk to. Bradley Hayes, a classmate from back in the day, nodded and headed in his direction. They’d never been friends, and he sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to pretend.
Cain turned abruptly and took the stairs two at a time to the patio below.
He cleared the bottom step, grabbed a cold beer from the nearest waiter, and took a long, refreshing draw. He glanced out over the backyard as his hand absently wiped the corner of his mouth. The tight feeling in his gut pressed harder, and his skin was clammy.
Cain was used to being the focus of attention but this was different. These weren’t fans. They were old neighbors, teachers, acquaintances, and some he’d considered friends a long time ago.
Were they judging him? Was he the prodigal black sheep, returned?
He squared his shoulders. None of them were the reason he’d come back.
Two men caught his eye, and he moved methodically through the crowd of mourners, nodding to those who called greetings, yet his gaze never left the duo several feet away from everyone.
The man on the left was dressed in a suit, his tall frame draped in expensive Armani. Cain knew this. His closet was filled with the crap. His newly minted ex-wife, Natasha, had insisted he wear nothing but the Italian designer whenever he accompanied her to one of her damn premieres. She’d spent wads of cash dressing him up like one of her West Coast buddies. After she had left, he’d considered getting rid of the lot, but hell, it had cost a fortune and he didn’t see the benefit in throwing money away.
The man on the right was decked out in full military dress.
Cain stopped a few feet away, and they both turned at the same time to face him.
Silence fell between the three, their eyes locked on each other as a world of pain united them.
Armani raised his beer, a tight smile settling on his face, though his eyes remained shadowed as he spoke. “You look like shit.”
The soldier stepped forward.
“I’m sorry…I…” Cain struggled to form a coherent sentence but faltered. Two arms enveloped him in a bear hug that was crushing and welcoming and hard, in the way it was among men.
The pain he’d felt for days, ever since he got the news, grabbed him, twisting his insides until he nearly choked from the intensity. Mackenzie stepped back, gave them some room, and Cain fed off the strength and energy that was Jake Edwards.
After a few moments Jake let go, grabbed another cold beer from the bucket at his feet, and tossed it to Cain—who nearly dropped the one he already had. Mac scooped one for himself, and they wandered down to the beach.
There were no words spoken. The easy silence of their youth enveloped them as if the passage of time meant nothing.
They’d buried one of their own today.
There was nothing else to say.
