Page 54 of Hell to Pay

“Yo,” Rafe said when we pulled up. He was shirtless over board shorts, his feet clad in the flat river shoes that kept them from getting chewed up by the rocks at the bottom of the river. A pile of gear sat on the ground next to him. “Ready to ride?”

Everything was a ride for Rafe. The waves in the ocean, the wind when he jumped out of a plane, the rapids in the Blackwell River.

Life.

He rode everything like a rogue wave. The wilder and more dangerous the better. He wasn’t the navel-gazing type, so I doubted he’d connected the dots, doubted he knew it was about his dad, an alcoholic who’d beat the shit out of him and his mom.

“Ready to roll.” Nolan looked at Matt. “You want to change?”

He looked uncertain, and I realized he probably wasn’t used to undressing in front of strangers, or anyone for that matter. I thought he might be one of those kids who changed for gym in one of the bathroom stalls and felt a fresh wave of sympathy for the kid.

“You can go behind one of the trees if you want,” I said. “We’ll wait here and gear up.”

He looked relieved, and he unzipped his backpack, pulled out the red basketball shorts he’d been wearing when Lilah and Nolan had picked him up at the deli, and disappeared into the trees.

Nolan and I used the time to strap on our life vests and stow the dry gear loaded into waterproof packs in the noses of the kayaks.

“You dropped off the truck?” Rafe asked, pulling his life vest over his head.

“On the way to get the kid,” I said.

Nolan and I had left the pickup at a trailhead downstream where we’d pull the kayaks out of the water.

Rafe lowered his voice. “He okay?”

I nodded. “A little nervous maybe. And some kids were giving him shit at school.”

Rafe’s eyes hardened. “Did you punch the little fuckers in the face?”

Nolan sighed.

“No,” I said, “I didn’t punch the little fuckers in the face.”

I didn’t tell him that I’d wanted to because that would only validate his ever-present rage, and that was the last thing he needed.

“Why not?”

“Because we didn’t want to get arrested for assaulting a minor,” Nolan said.

Matt reappeared wearing his shorts and carrying his jeans. “Don’t you know how to swim?”

Rafe barked out a laugh. Lilah obviously hadn’t told the kid we’d been SEALs. “We know how to swim.”

“Then why are you wearing life jackets?”

Rafe picked up the fourth life vest and walked toward Matt. The kid flinched, like he wasn’t used to being touched, when Rafe put it over his head and started tightening the straps.

That was the thing most people didn’t understand about the military. It was full of a bunch ofhoo-yahmacho bullshit, but it was also intimate. You pissed next to the guys in your unit. Sometimes you shat next to them too. You helped them on — and off — with gear. You sat as close as lovers inside tanks, airplanes, Humvees.

“Because we want to have fun, not end up with our heads smashed against the rocks and our lungs full of river water,” Rafe said, double-checking the straps. “If you fall out of the boat, you’re going to get tossed around by the rapids. You might hit your head, like Jude did that time. Get carried downstream. The vest will help you keep your face out of the water until we can pull you out.”

Matt turned a shade paler. “Am I going to fall out?”

“Probably not,” Rafe said.

“Probably not…” Matt echoed.

Rafe slapped his back. “Don’t worry. If you fall out, just remember to roll onto your back.”

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