Page 127 of Never Forget
The room was warm with it. The noise. The bodies. The casual knock of shoulders as men moved through the crowd. Somebody at the pool table made a shot nobody thought they'd make, the whole table erupted. Sean looked up from his booth long enough to shout something about beginner's luck before going back to his story.
It was imperfect.
It had always been imperfect.
The proposal was dead at the top. Graff hadn't moved. The brass was quiet, they were going to stay quiet. The system thathad killed Jack was the same system these men were standing in tonight.
But these were my brothers.
This was the house Jack had walked into, the same one he had invited me to follow him into. This was the family I had found when I had no family, and these were the men who had stood around the grave when he died.
The work of breaking it open was going to be slow.
I could live with it.
Tyler caught my eye again across the room. He set his darts down on the little shelf by the board. He raised his glass toward me.
I raised mine back.
I thought about Jamie and Rosie at home. About the blue couch in the living room. About the record player in the corner. About the bedroom where Jamie was already in pajamas by now, probably reading in bed, and waiting to hear my key in the door.
I set the glass down.
It was time to go home.
CHAPTER 31
Jamie
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Sam was already dressed. Uniform on. Ready for his shift.
I walked him to the door. Rosie was still asleep—summer vacation meant she got to sleep in now. No school runs. No alarms. Just lazy mornings and late breakfasts.
At the door, I pulled Sam close. Kissed him a little longer than usual.
He smiled against my lips. "What was that for?"
"Nothing. Just felt like it."
Sam cupped my face. Kissed me again. Softer this time.
"See you tomorrow morning?" he asked.
"See you."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
One more kiss. Then he was out the door.
I watched his truck pull away. Stood there until I couldn't see it anymore. That was a thing I did now. I had been doing it every shift since I moved my life south. Jack used to make fun of me for it when we were kids—for standing at the window until his school bus was out of sight, for waving longer than any normal person. You act like I'm not coming back, he'd said. I didn't knowhow to tell him I stood at the window because I needed to know he was. That it was the only way my three-year-old body knew how to love him.
Same thing now. Different man. Different window.
I went back to the kitchen and made myself another cup of coffee.
