Page 47 of The Bosun

“See, you’re already making friends. Now I won’t feel bad when I go out on the road next week.”

I turned wide-eyed to her. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving so soon.”

Pen’s face softened. “I’ll be back. It’s only for a couple of months.”

“Where are you going?”

“Small venues all around the US.” Pen went on to tell them how she worked Titan Records and the band she managed.

Lexie ate the last of her burger and moaned. “You make a mean burger, Dimples. If modeling doesn’t work out, you could be a chef.”

I couldn’t help myself from saying, “You two are so sweet together.”

“Hell, yeah, we are.” Ryder eyed his wife hungrily.

I yearned to have a man look at me like that someday.

Pen knocked me with her elbow. “I think it’s time we leave so the happy couple can be alone.”

I had a feeling Pen was right.

11

Remy

Before anyone was up,I spent the first thirty minutes of my day looking at all the pictures on Stella’s Instagram account. I’d been doing it since she left Seas the Day. I thought it might be difficult to find her, but it wasn’t. Zelda and Reagan had posted pictures constantly of their stay and tagged Stella in a few of them.

On her feed, I saw her writing space as she finished writing her book and her celebratory glass of Champagne. There hadn’t been much of her life in Oasis. Now all her pictures were of sunsets and the beach letting me know she was living the life she deserved.

There weren’t many pictures of her except on moving day with Penelope helping. Both of them looked exhausted but happy. The other was of both of them with a couple. The woman had blue hair that looked incredibly natural on her, at a restaurant smiling widely for the camera.

I wasn’t sure if Stella had read my letter, threw it away, or maybe she didn’t believe me. All I knew was she barely spared me a glance the day they departed.

Did she think of me like I did of her? There was something about her that I knew deep down in my bones I’d never find in another woman for as long as I lived. The feeling was unsettling but something I’d come to live with.

After going through all of her pictures and finding nothing new, I went to see how my buddy Tyler was doing. Even though I didn’t post on social media much—more like never—I had it to keep in touch as much as I was able to with the guys from my old unit.

Most of them were still enlisted except for the ones who hadn’t made it that fateful day. And me. I had gotten out at the first opportunity, unable to handle the guilt of living when my best friend in the entire world died in my arms, and I could do nothing about it. It didn’t matter that I knew somewhere deep inside my guilt that Damon’s injuries were fatal, and there was nothing I could have done. The fact that I could only hold him and assure him everything was going to be okay when I knew it wasn’t still ate at me.

Knowing that Damon left behind a woman who loved him more than anything, and she was pregnant with a child he’d never meet.

It should have been me. I had no one but my dad and Damon’s family, who all but adopted me as I grew up. I hadn’t seen any of them because I couldn’t face them, knowing they’d wonder why I hadn’t done more to save my best friend. Knowing they’d never understand the situation we’d been in or what it was like over there.

Instead, I locked it all away, and once every month or two, I’d check Tyler’s Instagram to see what he’d posted. Tyler had been there for me after Damon died. If it wasn’t for him checking on me constantly and making sure I ate, I wasn’t sure if I’d be where I was right now—or dead.

My vision glazed over at the flag on the latest post. It was a memorial postdated three weeks ago. It didn’t go into specifics, but it stated Tyler died while in Afghanistan and was laid to rest in his hometown of Macon, Georgia.

Guilt gnawed at my insides and climbed into the deep recesses of my mind conjuring images I’d tried hard to forget these last two years. Closing my eyes, I tried to shut out the sounds and images that haunted me. The sounds of explosions all around me, bullets whizzing by my head, and the smell of dirt embedded in my nose as I ducked for cover. I could hear my men yelling in the background, but I was rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak.

When a hand landed on my shoulder, I nearly decked the person who was touching me. It took several seconds for me to realize I was on a boat in the Balearic Sea and not in the Middle East.

“Fuck, dude, you need to lay off the coffee,” Scout quipped as he ducked away from my fist.

“Yeah.” I gave a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “I’ve had one too many cups this morning.” I tried to smile over at him while he poured his own cup of coffee and knew I failed when the corners of his mouth tipped down.

He took a step toward me but stopped when I held my hand up. “Don’t lie, man. Are you okay?”

Hanging my head, I picked at the skin around my fingernail as I spoke. “As good as I can be after finding out a friend of mine died.”

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