Page 119 of Body Shot

She gazes at me. “No.”

“I was there. We were all trying to go faster.” I close my eyes. “Goading each other. Why was it him? Why wasn’t it someone else? Why wasn’t it me.” My voice cracks.

“No.” She shifts closer, pressing her face to my chest, wrapping arms around me. “It was an accident.”

“After my mom said that, I carried that with me. Always. Like a black rock in my gut. I acted out. Rebelled at what they wanted me to do. Because they wanted me to replace him. And I couldn’t. I could never.”

Her arms tighten and I feel the wetness of her tears on my skin.

“I don’t want to even try,” I croak out. “I don’t want to go back and run the company. But fuck, I feel so guilty.”

“Are you going to do it?” she whispers, not lifting her head.

I stroke her hair. I swallow thickly.

“I’d come with you.”

Did she really just say that? My heart turns over in my chest. “Really?”

She pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Really. If that’s what you want to do.”

The moment stretches out, my chest full of a complex mix of love and longing, gratitude and fear. This. This is what I’ve always wanted. To matter to someone, more than anything. And to have someone who matters to me. I stroke her damp hair back from her face, admiring her glowing beauty. Goddamn, I’m a lucky sonofabitch. I never thought I deserved something like this, but somehow I found it.

Finally, I say. “I’m not going.” I suck in a breath. “If they’d said anything—even one word—about missing me, or . . .” I cough. “Or wanting me to come home and be in their lives . . . or loving me, maybe it’d be different. But all they talked about was the business and keeping it in the family. Apparently Dad and my grandfather wanted the business to always be run by family. I’m the only one who can do that . . . but all they really care about is the business.”

“Oh.” Her expression turns anguished. “They fucking suck, Beck.”

Love and affection burst inside me. “God, I love you.”

“I love you.”

We lay quietly together for a while, holding each other. Then Hayden says, “Tell me about the Trident Foundation.”

“Huh. Well, I started it as a way to raise funds for operators’ families. My original plan was to make money and then donate it to other non-profits that are already serving the special operations community. But then I realized if I wanted to make sure operators and their families were properly cared for, we needed to do it ourselves. I want that control. I want to stay small, so we can respond quickly when there’s a need.”

“You give money of your own?”

“Of course. But I don’t want to just hand over money. I want to help.”

“That’s so awesome, Beck.”

“A few months ago, a helicopter was shot down in Niger and all the operators on board were killed. We were able to help the families with a bunch of different services. I mean, they’re overwhelmed at a time like that, grieving, but also having to deal with so many things.”

“You must have people running the foundation for you.”

“Oh yeah, for sure. There’s a great team. I needed experts involved, but I try to help when I can.”

“Do your parents know about it?”

“No.”

“Beck. You should tell them.”

“Whatever. They wouldn’t care.”

She sighs. “I think they would. I just . . . I love you so much, I can’t imagine anyone not caring, especially your family.”

“Well, you haven’t met them yet.”

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