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Cody nodded. “It’s crazy how a single moment can change the entire trajectory of your future life. And most of the time, you don’t even know that moment when it happens.”
I cuddled against him, thoughtfully.
“Sometimes you do,” I said softly. My parents faces floated to mind for a fleeting yet heartbreaking moment. They were smiling. Happy. “But there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Sensing something more, he remained just as silent as I had. Eventually he bent his chin and kissed the top of my head.
“In the end I think my mother let go on purpose,” he said. “She didn’t want to weigh me down, or be a burden. She knew I’d stay there in SoCal for as long as it took, working sixty hours a week to support us both.”
“Mothers can be like that,” I agreed.
“Yes.”
“They sacrifice for their children,” I went on, “but they don’t want us to make those same sacrifices.”
Cody’s hand moved up and down, slowly tracing his fingertips along the length of my arm. The motion was gentle. Adorably protective.
“So you never had any brothers or sisters?” I asked.
“Aside from my brothers-in-arms?” he asked sadly. “No. Just me.”
I paused, considering another question. Eventually I ventured forward.
“And did you ever see your father again?”
At that, Cody propped himself up on an elbow and looked me right in the eye.
“No, never,” he murmured, smirking bitterly. Then, more ominously: “Lucky for him.”
Twenty-Eight
BRYNNE
The front door opened a few hours later. Cody and I had long since finished our pillow talk and were cuddling together on the couch, watching much of nothing. Silas and Santiago stepped inside wearily, looking grateful to finally be home.
“So what’d you get?” asked Cody. “Anything else?”
“A couple more things,” Silas answered nonchalantly. “Some useful, some not.” He pulled open a cabinet and started rummaging around. “Hey, we got any more bourbon?”
“Nah, you killed it last week. Remember?”
Silas scowled. He pulled down an empty bottle and waved it around. “You’re saying I put the bottle backempty?”
Cody shrugged. “Guess that’s the kind of asshole you are.”
The bearded soldier in the kitchen grunted, then begrudgingly took down a bottle of vodka that looked three-quarters full. He began pouring out a line of shots, then threw back two of them himself.
“I’m good, bro,” Cody waved him off. “I already—”
“None of these are for you,” Silas smirked.
He slid a shot over to Santiago, who had just finished removing his boots. When he held one up to me I politely declined.
“That guy you let go…” I began hopefully. “Did he say anything more about my brother?”
“Who said we let him go?” Silas challenged.
His eyes shifted accusingly in Cody’s direction. After a few seconds of silence, he laughed.
