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“Have you seen him?” I ask because I have to know how he is.
He nods. “He’s probably how you’d expect.”
“I’m not sure…”
“He’s down, depressed, but stubborn as hell.”
I can’t fight my smile.
“What do you want to know about the accident?” he asks and sips his coffee.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. Van told me what happened, and I know he was there, but I thought it was four years ago… maybe he might be remembering it a certain way through his own lens. Maybe there’s a way I can convince him it wasn’t his fault, and maybe we can… maybe there’s a chance for us.”
He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, you’ll never convince Van he wasn’t at fault. That’s what we’re trained to do, save lives. No matter what happens out there, if someone dies, we’ll always take the responsibility.”
“Oh,” I say as my stomach sinks. There goes my only idea to get him back.
“But it wasn’t his fault. It was just a bad situation. Things go wrong all the time. It’s amazing how many people we’re able to save in situations like that, but sometimes you just can’t. It’s a hard truth.”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m the reason Van went to Lake Starlight. Not directly, but that he took leave. I forced him to before I would allow him to reenlist. He was never the same after that accident, and he was so hell-bent on saving as many people as he could afterward. And then he found you, and I heard it in his voice when he called to check in. The man who came into my office a few days ago was a hollow man. A hurt man. I’m not sure anyone can let him see what could be except you.”
“Me?” I sip my coffee.
“You’re the one who bears the loss of your husband. I thought I could convince him to go after you and fight for you, but I don’t think he will until you give him the opening. He needs to feel forgiveness from you. To know that you don’t see a monster when you look at him.”
I blow out a breath. I could never see a monster when I look at Van.
“I assume that’s what you want? You did come all the way down here, didn’t you?” He finishes his coffee and puts down the empty mug. Then he pulls out his phone and texts someone, shoves his phone in his pocket, and walks over to the cashier. She hands him a piece of paper and pen.
Did he just call Van?
He returns, scribbling something down, and pushes the paper toward me. “This is his address. You do what you feel is right.”
He sits with me for another ten minutes until a woman pulls up in a minivan and honks.
“That’s my ride. Now put that address in your GPS, so you don’t get lost this time.” He winks and walks away.
“Thank you,” I call.
“I’d do about anything for that kid. He really is who you think he is. Life just hasn’t been kind to him. It’s easy to beat yourself up when that happens.” He waves and walks out.
A kid peeks his head out the van window and the commander kisses him. Then he slides into the passenger seat, leans over, and kisses his wife.
I stand and grab the address. I’m coming for you, Van Adler, whether you’re ready for me or not.
Thirty-One
Brinley
I arrive at a small cabin on the water and park in the driveway. My gut twists when I see Van’s truck because it means he’s home, and this will all come to a head—for better or worse.
I ring the doorbell, but no one answers. I look through the little window on the side of the front door and don’t see any movement, so I walk along the side of the house, where I hear the distinct sound of an axe hitting wood.
There he is, wearing a skintight shirt that’s supposed to keep the heat in, with AirPods in his ears, chopping wood. It’s like outdoorsman porn, I swear. He couldn’t have been sitting on his couch drinking a beer. Instead he has to be doing the most mouthwatering task, showing me exactly what I’ll be missing if he continues to be hardheaded.
He must sense me because he looks over his shoulder and then turns back to his wood, slamming the axe down before turning back to face me. I lift my hand and wave like an idiot. I don’t know why. He removes his AirPods from his ears and slowly walks over to me, trepidation about what my visit means in his stride.
