Page 80 of Point of Contact

“I know, and so when it came down to it, I thought Riley should be with his brothers and sisters in arms. I wanted him to have the reverence and honor he deserves, his sacrifice acknowledged by everyone who visits.” Trevor paused. “He’s where he belongs, Jess. It’s a decision I don’t regret.”

Jesse didn’t say anything, just settled his arm more firmly around Trevor’s shoulders, encouraging Trevor to lean against him. When they reached the entrance to their hotel and the path that led down to the beach, Jesse said, “I think I’m gonna go for a short walk. See you back in the room?”

Trevor nodded, and they let go of each other slowly. The tropical breeze was warm and caressing, the moonlight bright, turning Jesse’s hair into a halo of silver. On impulse Trevor reached up to cup his cheek.

“You okay?”

Jesse closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Yeah. I’ll be up soon.” He turned to disappear down the path toward the sound of crashing waves in the distance.

Trevor watched him go, then headed up to their room. He pulled on a pair of cotton sleep pants and climbed into bed to stare up at the ceiling. Despite the sad end to the evening, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit warm inside, all because Jesse had finally allowed himself to break down in front of him. It was the first time he’d let Trevor see the true depths of his grief, and the level of trust it must have taken him to do that...

Ah, Jess.

He sighed. God, it’d been so good to hold him, to walk arm in arm with him down the street. Trevor’s fingertips tingled with the memory of Jesse’s stubbly cheek under them, the wetness of tears. It’d felt so good to touch and be touched again.

Almost too good. Trevor ran his palm over the soft sheets, the bed feeling huge and empty. He closed his eyes—imagining the soft click of the hotel room door, followed by the rustle of clothes being shed, the mattress dipping as a big, warm body slid in behind him, strong arms wrapping him up and pulling him close...

With a groan, Trevor turned on his side and hugged his pillow to his chest, eventually drifting off into a restless sleep.

Chapter Twenty

They spent the next few days enjoying the tourist sights and sounds of Oahu, including a visit to the USS Arizona Memorial. Trevor was moved to tears at the marble wall in the shrine room inscribed with the names of the dead.

“So many lost. When will it end?”

Jesse put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Freedom isn’t free,” he said quietly.

They went snorkeling at Hanauma Bay, and climbed the Diamond Head State Monument, where Trevor shook his head at the old bunkers they encountered throughout their hike.

“More war,” he said sadly.

They ate at restaurants that were famous landmarks, like Duke’s Waikiki, and quieter, more out-of-the-way ones recommended by friendly locals, like Goma Tei.

“Riley was a more adventurous eater than me,” Jesse informed him. “He actually tried—and liked, mind you—Spam musubi.” He shuddered.

“Spam? Really? Like... Spam?”

“Yep, the meat in a can stuff. It’s everywhere here.”

Trevor asked their server what musubi was, and she eventually brought him a small plate, placing it in front of him with a small flourish.

“Spam musubi. Spam grilled in teriyaki sauce, placed on top of a block of rice and wrapped in nori. Very ono.”

Trevor took a cautious bite and pronounced it indeed ono, or delicious, highly amused by Jesse’s disgust.

Each night they collapsed into bed exhausted, and Trevor was surprised when he woke up the first time after a few hours and found Jesse already sitting on the balcony.

“Can’t sleep?” Trevor asked, pulling the sliding glass door open and joining him at the small bistro table. “I don’t sleep much anymore, a little bit here and there.”

“Same.” Jesse gazed out at the ocean, a vast silvery expanse.

They talked until the chill drove them back inside to sit on their beds, and when it happened again the next night, they didn’t even bother going outside. Instead, Jesse made some coffee with the room’s little coffeemaker and handed a cup to Trevor before perching cross-legged on the end of Trevor’s bed.

“How long were you with Carl?” Jesse asked. The room was dark and intimate, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the open curtains. Trevor plumped some pillows up behind him and glanced at the clock: three a.m.

“A little over two years,” he answered, sipping the weak coffee and grimacing. He peeped at Jesse through his eyelashes. “How about you? Any boyfriends in your past? Girlfriends?”

Jesse gave a half-shrug. “Not really. No one to speak of, anyway.”