Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“I guess, yeah.” Mark was grateful to turn that task over to Bacon, who set about laying out the uniform, piece by piece, making sure everything was clean and ready, then sitting on the floor to polish Mark’s black dress shoes until they gleamed. And he didn’t chatter, which Mark was even more thankful for, giving Mark the space to find the jeans and underwear and other civilian clothes he’d need. He tossed in a few books, not that he really expected to be able to read, but this sleeping half the day thing wasn’t likely to last. Might need some late-night distraction to keep his brain from fixating on all the unknowns he couldn’t control. To that end, he also added a couple of the card decks he was seldom that far from.
“What time for the service? I’m off tomorrow, and I’ll spread the word,” Bacon asked as he worked on the second shoe.
“Eleven. But you don’t have to...” It hadn’t occurred to Mark that anyone from the base would care to go. Despite being on Coronado, Danielle had lived a different life, moving in her socialite and club circles.
“Of course I do. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.” Bacon looked personally affronted that Mark would suggest he skip.
“Thanks.” Mark’s chest tightened right along with his throat.
“And damn, Wizard, I think you’ve got enough medals.” Bacon’s voice was forced, like he was trying to lighten the mood but wasn’t quite sure how to do that. After wiping his hands off with a rag, he straightened the rows of citations and medals on the front of Mark’s dress uniform. “You ever think about leaving some for the rest of us?”
“Nope.” Mark couldn’t quite manage a laugh, but he pulled his mouth into what he hoped passed for a smile.
“Show-off.” Bacon set the uniform and shoes aside. “Should we carry this stuff down or do you need to see anyone else before you head back home?”
Head back. Home. Only it wasn’t, hadn’t been for five years now, only he’d been able to pretend... All at once, everything waiting back there for him smacked into his brain: the kids. Isaiah. The funeral. All the logistics. He took deep gulps of air, but it wasn’t enough.
“Hey, hey.” Bacon shoved him to sit in the desk chair, crouching in front of him. He held out an unopened water bottle. “Try drinking something. It’ll help.”
“Only thing that might help is Jack.” Mark’s voice came out all thready.
“I’ve got some back in my room, but you’ll have to let me drive you back if you want to do shots.”
Drive... “Oh fuck.” It hit him for the first time, really, what had happened. “Danielle fucking drove drunk. How could she do that?”
“I don’t know, Wiz. But you’re one hundred percent allowed to be angry about it. Scream if you need to. Cry.”
“I’m not angry.” And he wasn’t—the ice surging through him was different from any anger he’d experienced, numbing almost. And he wasn’t close to tears or screaming. He was just...gutted. Left empty. “Just...the kids.”
“Fucking tragic.” Bacon rubbed his knees, like he was trying to get Mark’s circulation going again. “Who’s with them now?”
“Isaiah.” Mark groaned.
“Isn’t he the one...” Sitting back on his heels, Bacon made a vague gesture.
“The one who’s fucked half the base, yep.” No point in sugar-coating it. In the years since Cal and Danielle’s wedding, Isaiah had seemed to be on a mission of sorts, sleeping with several people Mark knew, including his friend Tovey, back before he got himself married to the nicest guy on earth, a former teammate. A thought hit him. “Oh God, please tell me, not you too?”
Not many people knew that Bacon was quietly pansexual, but he and Mark were close enough that he’d met Bacon’s last few friends-with-benefits. And Bacon was exactly the sort of SEAL candy Isaiah seemed drawn to—buff, tall, and charismatic.
“No. He’s totally cute as fuck though...” Bacon trailed off. “Sorry. Not the time. He’s always seemed like a nice guy. I’m sure he’ll be a huge help.”
Mark didn’t want his help, didn’t want to need him, didn’t want to have to rely on Isaiah of all people. He groaned. “I can manage.”
“You’re a control freak. And we love you for it, but man, I’ve never even seen you around kids.” Bacon scooped up Mark’s belongings, being careful with the dress uniform hanger.
“Gonna have to figure it out,” Mark said grimly, heading for the door. And he would. This was what he was good at, solving problems. His little freak-out notwithstanding, Isaiah and the kids were just one more challenge to conquer.
However, after loading the car, saying goodbye to Bacon, who made him promise to call if he needed anything, and driving the short distance back to the beach house, he was no closer to figuring shit out. Two unfamiliar cars were in front of the house when he pulled into the garage behind the house.