restless sleep. These days, whenever he drew, it was in a kind of fugue state, like he was watching someone else’s hand unearth things he had no memories of.
Sometimes, it was his brothers’ faces he drew—pictures of times he couldn’t have known about otherwise, like when Zane was twelve or thirteen. When he’d gotten his hands on a couple of family albums, Cael had been shocked to realize that he’d actually been re-creating a lot of the family pictures.
He looked at the picture from last night again, tried to focus on a name, but nothing came.
Who the hell was she?
Her hair was chin length, with bangs that didn’t hide her eyes. She looked a little worried, her brows drawn together as if she was concentrating hard onsomething. She was really pretty; he’d made the bottom pieces of her hair darker, as though they were dyed.
He had no sisters. Not his mother—he’d seen pictures of his parents. An old girlfriend, maybe?
He ran his fingers around the perimeter of the picture and knew it wouldn’t be the last time he drew her. No, all his sketches brought out new memories, each one opening the door a little farther, inching it maddeningly slowly, when he’d much rather just kick the damn thing in and reclaim his past.
But it wasn’t working like that, and he had to at least be grateful he was getting things back.
He contemplated showing the drawing to Mace to see if he’d get a reaction and decided against it for now. Mace’s problems were racking up rapidly and he hated being one of them.
Paige took precedence now—for Gray.
Cael wondered how long it would take before she and Mace ended up in bed.
He didn’t want Paige—not in the obvious way Mace did—but he was jealous that they could both feel, when he was still mainly numb. Parts were defrosting a little, but far too slowly for his tastes, and he didn’t want to take his frustrations out on these two.
D ylan Scott flew commercial into JFK and immediately made the rest of the trip to the Adirondacks by car rather than waiting out the night at some hotel. He had been too worried about his brother Caleb for too long—and finally, Caleb was rememberinghis family, remembering him and Zane enough that Dylan felt a visit wouldn’t do him more harm than good.
But first, he had another stop to make. It was close to four in the morning, but he didn’t feel bad at all about slamming on the door to wake up his best friend, Cameron Moore.
The men had saved each other’s lives. More than once.
Cam felt a little bad about it, had come at Dylan with a shotgun at his chest until he realized who was at his door. “Should’ve known. Asshole,” he mumbled, stumbled back through the living room into the kitchen and flipped on the switch for the coffeemaker.
Skylar, Cam’s girlfriend and soon-to-be wife, padded out of the bedroom briefly for a quick hug and to ask about Riley before heading back to bed.
Dylan’s girlfriend was finishing a job in Florida, but she would be here to see Skylar tomorrow night. The two women had become extremely close, despite a rocky start. And even though Skylar wasn’t on DMH’s radar any longer, Cam refused to take chances.
So did Dylan. So he would bring Riley here to stay with Sky while he convinced Cam to take the trip with him to see Caleb and Mace. One that was a long time coming.
And so he sat across from Cam, whose back was to the picture windows that highlighted the privacy of his Adirondack home, a hideaway he had built years earlier to help him ease out of the life of Delta Force and black ops.
Correction: out of a life he had no control over. Hestill ran black ops missions, but now he and Dylan called the shots. Things had really worked out for Cam, and the man deserved his happiness.
“They’re all fucked-up, not just Cael,” Dylan said after he’d mainlined two cups of coffee. His younger brother had been on his mind for months now; he blamed himself for not helping more, which Riley continued
Sometimes, it was his brothers’ faces he drew—pictures of times he couldn’t have known about otherwise, like when Zane was twelve or thirteen. When he’d gotten his hands on a couple of family albums, Cael had been shocked to realize that he’d actually been re-creating a lot of the family pictures.
He looked at the picture from last night again, tried to focus on a name, but nothing came.
Who the hell was she?
Her hair was chin length, with bangs that didn’t hide her eyes. She looked a little worried, her brows drawn together as if she was concentrating hard onsomething. She was really pretty; he’d made the bottom pieces of her hair darker, as though they were dyed.
He had no sisters. Not his mother—he’d seen pictures of his parents. An old girlfriend, maybe?
He ran his fingers around the perimeter of the picture and knew it wouldn’t be the last time he drew her. No, all his sketches brought out new memories, each one opening the door a little farther, inching it maddeningly slowly, when he’d much rather just kick the damn thing in and reclaim his past.
But it wasn’t working like that, and he had to at least be grateful he was getting things back.
He contemplated showing the drawing to Mace to see if he’d get a reaction and decided against it for now. Mace’s problems were racking up rapidly and he hated being one of them.
Paige took precedence now—for Gray.
Cael wondered how long it would take before she and Mace ended up in bed.
He didn’t want Paige—not in the obvious way Mace did—but he was jealous that they could both feel, when he was still mainly numb. Parts were defrosting a little, but far too slowly for his tastes, and he didn’t want to take his frustrations out on these two.
D ylan Scott flew commercial into JFK and immediately made the rest of the trip to the Adirondacks by car rather than waiting out the night at some hotel. He had been too worried about his brother Caleb for too long—and finally, Caleb was rememberinghis family, remembering him and Zane enough that Dylan felt a visit wouldn’t do him more harm than good.
But first, he had another stop to make. It was close to four in the morning, but he didn’t feel bad at all about slamming on the door to wake up his best friend, Cameron Moore.
The men had saved each other’s lives. More than once.
Cam felt a little bad about it, had come at Dylan with a shotgun at his chest until he realized who was at his door. “Should’ve known. Asshole,” he mumbled, stumbled back through the living room into the kitchen and flipped on the switch for the coffeemaker.
Skylar, Cam’s girlfriend and soon-to-be wife, padded out of the bedroom briefly for a quick hug and to ask about Riley before heading back to bed.
Dylan’s girlfriend was finishing a job in Florida, but she would be here to see Skylar tomorrow night. The two women had become extremely close, despite a rocky start. And even though Skylar wasn’t on DMH’s radar any longer, Cam refused to take chances.
So did Dylan. So he would bring Riley here to stay with Sky while he convinced Cam to take the trip with him to see Caleb and Mace. One that was a long time coming.
And so he sat across from Cam, whose back was to the picture windows that highlighted the privacy of his Adirondack home, a hideaway he had built years earlier to help him ease out of the life of Delta Force and black ops.
Correction: out of a life he had no control over. Hestill ran black ops missions, but now he and Dylan called the shots. Things had really worked out for Cam, and the man deserved his happiness.
“They’re all fucked-up, not just Cael,” Dylan said after he’d mainlined two cups of coffee. His younger brother had been on his mind for months now; he blamed himself for not helping more, which Riley continued
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