Page 72 of Point of Contact

Jesse thought of the death benefit paid to the families of military members killed while serving—$100,000 immediately upon notification, and then up to an additional $400,000 in Servicemembers’ Group Life Insurance.

“I have half a million dollars sitting in the bank that I don’t know what to do with. It’s blood money, Jesse.”

“And it’s money Riley wanted you to have if the worst happened. He had to opt in for it, and pay premiums on it.” Trevor shook his head, and Jesse went on gently, “Spending it doesn’t mean you’re glad you have the money, Trevor. Nobody would think that, least of all Riley.”

“I know. It just feels so wrong, to benefit financially from his death. I’m having a hard time with it.” Trevor sighed. “At least think about Hawaii? Please. Just think about it. I want to really see him, through the eyes of someone who loved him, too. I want to know my son. You can’t take me to Afghanistan, but you can take me back to Hawaii.”

A giant lump took up residence in Jesse’s throat. “Shit, I can’t say no to you, Trevor.” Or to you, Riles, because I know this is what you’d want, too. “Of course I’ll go.”

The relief on Trevor’s face was palpable. “Thanks, Jess. I didn’t know how much I wanted this until just now.” He got to his feet, and Jesse looked up at him.

“You’re leaving?”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah. I figure you’ve had enough of me today, and I’ll get out of your hair before I really do wear out my welcome.” He gathered his wallet and keys from the coffee table, and Jesse got up to walk him out. After he’d left with a wave, Jesse slumped back against the door. Shit. Two weeks traveling intimately with the man he was developing a most inappropriate crush on. This wasn’t a recipe for disaster. Nope, not at all.

“Riley, don’t kill me, but I have to say it: Your dad is fuckin’ hot.” He tilted his face up toward the ceiling as if listening. “What’s that? It’s okay with you if I stare at his ass in a bathing suit? Noted. Great. Thanks, buddy.”

It’s not about me. It’s not about me.

Chanting that to himself, Jesse grabbed up his phone and texted Karen, letting her know he could come in to work after all. Anything was better than sitting around his lonely apartment brooding, and keeping busy was what he needed most right now.

You sure? I got it covered tonight if you wanna sit it out.

Jesse’s thumbs flew as he replied, Nah, I’ll come in. Got something I need to talk to you about anyway.

He winced, wondering how she’d react to him wanting two weeks off to go to Hawaii, of all places, but even if she ended up firing him, Jesse was determined to go. Despite his personal misgivings, he could see how it might help Trevor, and Jesse’s vow was to do anything it took. Anything.

You can’t take me to Afghanistan...

Trevor’s words echoed in his ears, and as Jesse passed the couch on his way to the shower, his eyes fell on the luau picture. Or could he?

Jesse scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted, sucking in deep breaths while he listened to the ringing in his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kimi? It’s Jesse Byrne. I need a huge favor...”

Chapter Eighteen

The knock on the door came right on time, and Trevor pulled it open with a smile.

“Ready?” Jesse asked, and Trevor stood back to let him in, leading him into the living room where his luggage was stacked, his jacket draped over the back of the couch.

“Yes. Let me do a last check, make sure I didn’t forget anything, and then we can get going.”

Jesse nodded, and Trevor hurried off to his room, doing a quick scan of his dresser top, the counters in his bathroom, running his fingers over his wrist and the band of Riley’s watch for the umpteenth time. He hardly ever took it off anyway, but—

“Okay, got it all,” he said, making his way over to where Jesse was waiting, taken aback when Jesse jumped a mile. “Whoa, sorry to sneak up on you.”

Jesse looked at him, his lips quirked up ruefully. “You didn’t. I was just thinking how quiet it was in here, and when your voice sounded so loud, it startled me.” He grunted. “Not like you were shouting, it’s just—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know what you mean.” Trevor slung the strap of his carry-on bag over his shoulder. “The silence is almost tangible sometimes, like I can reach out and touch it.”

Jesse nodded, reaching for Trevor’s big suitcase. “I can imagine it’s hard on you.”

Picking up his jacket, Trevor led the way to the front door. “It’s the main reason I haven’t been able to go in Riley’s room. Seeing his things would hurt, of course, but it’s the fact that it’s so quiet, so empty.” He stopped, feeling Jesse’s warmth at his shoulder. “When I picture Riley’s room, I picture him in it. Listening to music, talking on the phone, doing his homework...”

“After he died,” Jesse said, “I had a hard time sleeping. He had the rack above me, and I was used to hearing the creak when he’d roll over. He never really snored, but when he was super tired, sometimes he’d mutter this sort of nonsense in his sleep.”