Page 33 of Point of Contact

They spoke for a few more minutes until Riley said, “Miss you, too. Hey, I love you, Dad. Okay, bye.”

They hung up, and Riley slumped for a moment, staring at the floor.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking how nice it is to hear my dad sounding so happy, you know? He deserves it. I’m glad I didn’t interrupt their trip.” Riley glanced at Jesse. “He had me when he was only seventeen. Well, eighteen by the time I was actually born.”

Jesse nodded. “I thought he looked pretty young to have a son your age. It’s cool to see how close you guys are, too.” He burst out, “Riles, I’m really sorry about that night. I was such a prick.”

Riley leaned closer. “All’s forgiven, brother,” he said reassuringly. “I understand now where you were coming from, and I totally could’ve handled it better than I did.” He gnawed on his lower lip for a second. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all, considering what I thought I knew about you.”

“It’s okay,” Jesse mumbled. “Just do me a favor, and tell your dad I’m sorry when you see him. Maybe if I get a chance to meet him again someday I can tell him myself, but—”

“I promise,” Riley said, “but hell yeah, you’re gonna get to see him again! You’re my best friend, you know? It’s inevitable.”

They grinned at each other, and Riley punched him on the shoulder. “When we get home, I’m gonna buy the fastest, most badass fucking motorcycle there ever was. Girls won’t be able to resist me. I’ll get all the hot chicks.”

“Leaving all their hot brothers for me.” Jesse couldn’t believe his own daring, but Riley just reached out to high-five him.

“Fuck, yeah. Gonna be awesome, dude. Hey, did you get me some cigarettes?”

They bantered and bickered all the way to the flight line, and despite where they were headed off to, Jesse’s chest held a glow of warmth. Having a true friend like Riley, a friend he could be himself with, that he could be out to with no fear of judgment—well, it was freeing in a way Jesse had never experienced till now. Anticipation tingled through him at what the future held.

They just had to get through the next few months first.

Chapter Ten

May 2008

“Shit, my lighter’s out.” Riley tossed the empty Bic on the ground. “Throw me yours, Watty.” He cursed when Watkins, instead of passing it over, hurled it over Riley’s head so that it landed several feet away.

“Fetch,” he chortled, and Riley half rose, reaching over to shove Watkins off the ammo crate he was perched on. Before he could turn and go for the lighter, Watty tackled him, and they rolled in the dirt, grappling, until Riley pinned him.

The men hooted and hollered as Watkins struggled futilely beneath Riley’s wiry frame.

“Call uncle, Watty,” Jesse drawled, cracking up when Riley shoved his middle finger in Watkins’s face before pushing off of him. He stood up, sweaty and dirty, olive drab T-shirt untucked from his uniform pants, boots on but unlaced. Stalking over to the lighter, he grabbed it and lit up, leaning against a HESCO, drawing the smoke deep and blowing it up to the sky.

The fleeting excitement of the wrestling match over, everyone fell silent.

“It’s too quiet,” Riley muttered around his cigarette. “What are those fuckers up to? You heard anything, Enriquez?”

Enriquez didn’t even bother opening his eyes, sprawled as he was on his ass in the dirt, leaning against the sandbag wall. “Nah, man, you know I’d tell you. Tactical command ain’t picked up enemy chatter in over twenty-four hours.”

“Makes me fuckin’ nervous. What’re they planning?”

“Fuck what they’re planning.” This from Watty. “Twenty-four hours with no one shooting at my ass? I’ll take it.”

“That’s ’cause you’re a lazy fat fuck,” someone else said. “Rather jerk off in your bunk than serve your goddamn country.”

“Just dreamin’ about your sister,” Watkins shot back. “Trot your ass over here and lemme—” he turned his palm up and made a lewd squeezing motion “—just so I know what she’s gonna feel like.”

A couple people guffawed, and Jesse snorted. Riley was right, it was too quiet. The fighting lately had been fierce and unrelenting, and everyone was beyond burned out, on edge, and ready to fucking go home. They each dealt with the pall of dread hanging over their heads in their own way, with crude humor, or in Riley’s case, smoking and brooding.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiots,” he growled now, flicking his cigarette away in a shower of sparks.

“Well, shit, we just can’t keep you happy, Estes, can we?” Smitty drawled. “Bitching about getting shot at, bitching about not getting shot at. Which is it, motherfucker?”

“He bitches here, he bitches there, Estes bitches everywhere,” Watkins sing-songed, obviously hoping to get a rise out of him again. “Cold or hot, spring or fall, Estes bitches about it all.”