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“Yes, for a little over a week.” Duh, I could have worked that out. Given the duffel bag had a letter from Miranda in it.
“How long have you known Ethan?”
“Forever, really. Axel, Ethan, and his brother, Garrett, and I grew up together. After high school, we all joined the army. That bonded us even more.
“Axel, Ethan, and I always aspired to join the Green Berets.”
“Green Berets? Is that some sort of special forces unit?”
“It is. Our fathers were part of that elite group and we wanted to be just like them. Military is in our blood.”
“What about Garrett? You didn’t mention him joining the army.”
“Garrett’s interest was always with the Air Force. From when he was little, he wanted to be a pilot.”
“Is this how Lex and Garrett know each other?” I’m trying to put together all the pieces.
“Lex, as in Alexander Dougal? How do you know him?”
Oh shit, I did it again… revealing too much. I really need to be more careful. How do I explain my relationship with Lex without giving anything away about myself?
“Umm, I met him in Scotland two years ago. He recently introduced me to Ethan and Garrett.” There, that’s good, and technically, it’s true. I don’t mention that Ethan freaked me out, thinking he was working for Tiero.
“So, how did you end up with a brewery?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from how I met his friends.
A small smile plays around Aiden’s lips. Of course he’s onto me and knows exactly what I’m doing but is kind enough to indulge me.
“Well, through our travels, we developed a taste for the finer beers. When the opportunity presented to buy a failing brewery only a town away from home, we jumped at it. We had saved up plenty of cash. We injected the needed funds and turned it into a profitable enterprise in no time.
“Axel is our man for running the brewery; he only works part-time for Gary. After the accident that ended all our army careers, he’s left in a wheelchair with only partial vision. His sense of smell is so well developed now, it makes him the perfect person to dabble with our drafts. The brewery has given him a renewed purpose and focus. His wife, Shelby, is his eyes and helps him run it.”
The mention of an accident injects a somber mood. My eyes search Aiden’s, and I find pain and sadness there. My heart goes out to him. It’s like I can feel the distress still lingering in him. I don’t ask, though, not wanting to pry.
“I’m sorry, Aiden,” I whisper. It’s the first time I’ve used his name, and it’s strangely comfortable, rolling off my tongue with ease.
“It was a few years ago. We’re all still healing from it. Some days are easier than others, especially for Axel.”
Wanting to lighten the mood again, I return to the subject that lit up Aiden before. “What’s your brewery called?”
“Ha, you’ll laugh,” he says, doing exactly that—laughing. I look at him expectantly.
“It’s called Little Dove.”
Now I laugh too. “That doesn’t sound very masculine or beer-ish.”
“No, it doesn’t. But doves are special for us. We used to see them as a good omen when we were in war zones. Whenever one would appear, we knew we’d be fine. The day we found the brewery, a dove landed on the grass, cooing gently. That was our sign to go for it. We named the dove Luz. She still comes to the brewery most days. Axel feeds her.”
“What does Luz mean?”
“It’s Spanish for light. Interestingly, she’s a mourning dove. They’re named so for the low, mournfulooo-Ahhh croooo-ooo-ooocall. So there’s a bit of a dichotomy, but I think it’s fitting, given our backgrounds and us trying to focus on more positive things.”
I nod, sensing there is so much more than what he’s prepared to share. He must have seen and experienced some horrendous things during his service if the pain haunting his voice is any indication.
“I love the meaning of it all,” I say gently, connecting with his eyes. “And I’d say you’ve always been on the side of the light. You might not have found yourself in situations that were wholesome… quite the opposite, but you were trying to bring light and goodness. I’m sure the people you helped were grateful.”
“Thank you,” is all he says, his gaze holding mine. And I see it there… the distress of his experiences that he hides behind his jovial exterior.
I want to reach over and pull him into an embrace, the need to comfort him overwhelming. Seeing his hidden trauma hurts my soul.
