AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hunter’s mind spun, and he stumbled back again.
Trey reached for him, taking him by the shoulders and guiding him back to the bed. “From the report I got, after you got shot in the head and knocked out, Trent dragged you to the shelter. He was going back to lay down more fire when he stepped on a land mine. He was blown up.”
Blown up. Blown up. Blown up.
The words rang in Hunter’s mind. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t pull in air. He ended up coughing instead. Hunter was on the bomb squad and very familiar with bombs. He had spent more time than he wanted to admit thinking about the possibility of being blown up. But his brother couldn’t be blown up!
Trey retreated, giving him some space.
“No,” he said again. Pain stabbed him in the chest.
He remembered Trent laughing after Hunter had pushed him to the ground. Trent had told him, “It’s not your job to save me, little brother. It’s my job to save you, remember?” That was their joke. Strike that—it was Trent’s joke. Trent had always said it whenever they were literally or metaphorically under fire, first as kids and then as men.
Hunter had taken the blow to his head, and it’d all gone dark. He couldn’t remember anything after that. He struggled to catch a breath, tears filling his eyes. “No,” he sobbed. “No!”
Trey yanked him to a sitting position. “Breathe,” he commanded.
Hunter coughed and cried and sucked air into his lungs. Then Trey’s arms were around him, holding him. Hunter leaned against him, the pain worsening every time he inhaled.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Trey whispered.
Hunter’s adrenaline drained out of him instantly, and his strength went with it. He flopped back. Pain ripped through his head, but he didn’t care. He sobbed harder, turning onto his side.
“Dang it,” Trey said, putting a pillow beneath his head. “I didn’t think you’d drop like that.” Trey lifted his feet onto the bed, then pulled a blanket over him. “Nurse!”
Hunter kept his eyes closed, unable to stop the crying. Random memories assaulted him: them as kids throwing rocks on the beach, their father holding them before his last mission, their mother’s soft hand in theirs before she passed away. “No!” He gulped out another sob.
“Help him!” Trey called out.
Hunter closed his eyes and remembered Trent as he was lying on the ground in front of him, smirking that stupid smirk. He’d thought he was invincible, somehow the only person in the war zone who’d never be shot.
“Give him something,” he heard Trey say to someone.
Hunter felt a stab in the side of his arm. “I hate you, bro,” he mumbled before drifting off into the darkness he yearned for. “How could you leave me?”
Chapter 2
As a rule, Cheryse didn’t go to funerals. Not because of death or sadness or fear. Well, strike that. Maybe fear. Her mind wound back tothatday three years ago, the day she’d stood over her husband’s grave. Since then, she’d known one thing: even though she wasn’t charged with the crime, his death was on her hands.
Sincethat day, she hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of attending funerals. Even when Trent and Hunter’s mother passed away—Mama Stone, as the beach crew had called her—Cheryse had feigned sick. Not that her friends hadn’t known what she was doing. They knew she avoided topics of death and dying and killing. Out of respect for her, they didn’t talk about the fact she’d killed her husband.
Sure, it was an accident, but … it was her fault.
Now, she broke the no-funeral rule as she trudged toward the group of people huddled around the coffin. She wore a black dress that reached her knees with sleeves down to her elbows. It might seem dramatic, but she’d even worn a stupid black veil that she had dug out of one of her mother’s boxes. Her mother had left those boxes in the garage when she’d retired to Greece five years ago. The veil wasn’t just fitting for a funeral—it was the same one her mother had worn to her father’s funeral a long time ago. Cheryse had been young then, and she barely remembered the funeral, but she remembered the veil.
She didn’t know why she had made a habit of digging through the boxes and finding this veil over the years. Maybe because her mother had loved her father so much, and in her mind, this was a symbol of that love. Honestly, it made no sense.
However, she did like the cloaked feeling she had as she wore it. As if the people at the funeral, like her close friends and especially Hunter, wouldn’t be able to see how broken and fragile she was.
She’d closed the salon today. Pretty much the whole town was closed. Many of the businesses had even put their flags at half-mast to honor Trent; he’d died a hero for his country.
A group of soldiers stood at attention nearby, rifles on their shoulders. Lucy had prepped Cheryse for this. They would do a military salute.
Pastor Henry’s melodic voice drifted over the crowd. It was his preaching voice, slower and more melodic than what he used in regular conversation. Cheryse was late, but she didn’t care. She was proud of herself for coming. Plus, she knew Hunter needed her.
People parted before her, and before she knew it, she found herself at Hunter’s side.
He didn’t notice her at first. His face was twisted into a look that she’d seen on him when they were twelve and they’d all found out his father had been killed in the line of duty. It was the shell-shocked expression of a zombie apocalypse survivor. To tell the truth, she felt about as bad as he looked. She wore a similar face whenever she thought about her first husband.
