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“Cut the French, Le Torch,” Hudson said, hauling out Tristan’s SEAL nickname because he knew the other man hated it, mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t intended as a homage to his skill with burning stuff. “It makes you sound like a pimp.”
“Yes, mother.” Tristan snickered. “You’re just jealous that you don’t speak it. Maybe you should find a French girlfriend to teach you some stuff, and then you’ll know what I’m saying.”
“Or use Google translate like the rest of us,” Isaiah offered helpfully, earning an elbow to his ribs courtesy of Hudson, who had obviously pulled his punch or Isaiah would have a lung puncture right about now.
“All of you shut it,” Caleb said mildly, long used to the bickering among the guys when they didn’t have enough to occupy their attention.
They instantly stopped talking, because they still followed him no matter what, for whatever reason. Sure, once upon a time he’d taken his platoon commander’s suggestion to build a small strike team—and they’d been light, fast, and efficient on countless ops—but that had been before. He’d lost the right to lead anyone much farther than to the bathroom.
Caleb hadn’t expected everyone to come with him to Texas when he’d dropped the idea on them. But they all had, despite the implied lunacy of driving cross-country to help the stranger who had been penning letters to the five SEALs regularly during their last deployment.
Except Serenity Force wasn’t a stranger. Maybe they’d never met in person, but he knew her well from her many colorful letters. They’d connected via the pages they’d exchanged. She was more like a surrogate mom, and in a lot of ways, Caleb owed her. She’d motivated him to get off his butt and fight for his future when the Navy had discharged all five SEALs without fanfare or apology.
He’d wanted to crawl in a hole, pretend he was still a SEAL, put off the rest of his life. Serenity had offered him an alternative, a place for his team to get back on their feet. Granted, she didn’t yet realize that her comments about threats toward the town she loved had spurred him to pack up and drive to her rescue. But still.
He aimed to earn his way back to the man he’d been before Syria. Before he’d learned he was capable of such enormous destruction and that the weight of it would feel so crushing some days. If he could find a way to make restitution for the sins he’d committed in the town of al-Sadidiq, his skin might fit right again.
He pointed to the one building that looked like it had been painted during this decade. The letters stenciled on the window spelled out Ruby’s in old-fashioned curlicue font, heavy on the gold leaf.
As the other four SEALs eyed the building, the silence stretched. Pointedly. So Caleb filled it. “That’s the place Serenity talked about in her letters. The diner. Ruby’s is where you can count on finding everyone in town at some point during the day. No time like the present to get started on this adventure.”
“It’s barely a town,” Hudson argued. “I don’t get what there is here worth saving.”
He’d jumped into the SUV readily enough when they rolled out of Coronado for the last time, but outside of that, he hadn’t offered much in the way of his opinion of the plan. They called him Stillwater for a reason. What was on the surface hid enormous depths, but it took an act of congress to disturb Hudson Rafferty’s passive exterior.
“That’s not for us to decide,” Caleb said with a curt slice of his hand. “It’s important to Serenity. So it’s important to us. Anyone who thinks different, here’s the keys to the Yukon.”
He dangled the key fob from two fingers, but no one grabbed it.
Caleb’s little brother, Rowe—little being relative; they’d been the same size since Rowe’s fifteenth birthday—bumped his elbow as he moved in closer as a show of solidarity. Still trying to make up for Syria, most likely. Caleb had told him over and over it wasn’t his fault that the intel on al-Sadidiq had been bad.
It was Caleb’s.
“It’s a long drive back to Coronado,” Rowe reminded the others in his gravelly voice—lingering effects of having half a building fall on him during the raid. “And there’s nothing there for us.”
Rowe had gotten better. He had. One day, Caleb wouldn’t have to work so hard to convince himself of that. The sight of his brother’s broken and mangled body after they’d dug him out still flashed across the movie screen in his head at odd times, usually right when he was feeling like it was going to be okay.
As always, Rowe was all in with Caleb, which wasn’t so much of a plus lately. Like a lemming, the elder Hardy had led his brother right off a cliff. He hadn’t taken care of his brother like he should have. Superstition Springs would fix that too. Somehow. Caleb was counting on the town to heal all the wounds that the team had amassed, even the invisible ones.
“No one’s going anywhere,” Isaiah piped up, which was not a surprise. “We’re in this together. Right?”
Isaiah never quit making sure they all stuck together. The team needed his optimism and enthusiastic kicks to the rear now more than ever.
Hudson fielded Isaiah’s pointed glance with a shrug and crossed his arms to slump down in a deliberate not-going-anywhere pose. With a long-suffering sigh, Tristan scrubbed at his three-day-old beard.
“Sure, whatever,” he said loftily. “This place is bound to be loaded with backwoods farmer types who’ll make me look like a GQ cover model in comparison. I can’t miss with the chicks here.”
Caleb had to laugh. “I have no doubt. Can’t have you losing your ladies’ man gold club status in the midst of your undying altruism toward Serenity’s town.”
“Make no mistake. We’re here because we need something else too,” Tristan said quietly, his voice flickering with things unspoken, things they’d shared and couldn’t erase. “I’m willing to give it a chance.”
“Me too,” Isaiah threw in, which was echoed by Rowe. Hudson’s agreement took the form of a nod, but from him, that was like signing his name in blood on the dotted line.
And that’s why Isaiah had earned the nickname Elmer over and over. He was their glue and always would be, corralling tough nuts like Tristan and Hudson with ease.
Good. Caleb tried to swallow and found it difficult again. “Let’s meet our future head-on then.”
The guys followed him down the street to Ruby’s, where if he’d interpreted Serenity’s letters correctly, they’d find their pen pal. Probably they should have started there, but Caleb had needed Doritos for fortification. Not that they’d helped settle his nerves.
