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Finding You: Chapter 7

LINCOLN

Turning off Route One, the truck bounced down an old dirt road leading down a winding path through thickets and pines at the base of the mountains. Determined not to stare at Jo’s chest bouncing along with the truck, I looked out the passenger window, listened to the low country music from the radio, and the comfortable chatter between Finn and Jo. As we passed near Antelope creek, it hit me that in the eight years I’d been gone and the two I’d been back, the only thing that really changed was me.

Jo shifted in her seat. Not knowing if she was crowded or just uncomfortable, I could have shifted my body away, but I didn’t. I felt her muscular thigh press the full length of mine, and warmth spread through my stomach.

“Sweet, they made it,” Finn said as he pulled his truck next to two others—Deck and Colin. As we parked and got out, I held my hand to help Jo step down from the truck and had to rub a hand over my face to hide my smile.

Finn and Jo greeted Deck and Colin with a familiarity that said they had must have met before. Deck hugged Jo as Colin tipped his chin to Finn. I hung back, watching their easy friendship unfold.

How is it that they know her, and I’ve never met her before?

“Get your ass over here, man,” Deck said, holding out his hand. I went to shake it, and he pulled me into a bear hug. “Sorry I haven’t been able to stop by lately. Couple of rookies in the department are going to be the death of me.”

“I heard you made Detective Sergeant. Congrats, man.” I patted his back, squeezed his shoulder.

Cole Decker worked for the Chikalu Falls Police Department—a job he’d known he’d have even in high school. His dad and granddad had been on the force. Serving and protecting was in his blood.

His off-shift hours and my need for space and privacy meant we didn’t always hang out together. Deck seemed to understand, and when we did see each other, there was never any weirdness. I thought in his job, he understood what it was like to have to make tough choices, like mine in the Marines, and harder yet—live with those choices. One May after I’d gotten back, we got piss drunk at my cabin on Mr. Bailey’s property and we’d gotten to swapping stories. Staring into the bonfire, I’d told him about some of the missions in Afghanistan. In a slurred stupor, he’d gotten real serious and asked if I could keep a secret. I’d said yes, obviously, but we were interrupted by Finn falling into the creek and he never mentioned it again. It had been two years, and I still wondered what it was he was hiding.

Still eyeing Deck, we rounded the bed of the truck to unload our gear. We each stepped into our waders to keep our pants from getting soaked and clipped them at our chest. I’d had to fight the urge to carry all of Jo’s gear on top of my own, but before I could, she’d grabbed it all and started walking toward the path toward to river.

With a glance over her shoulder, she winked. “Try to keep up, boys.”


When Finn said she could hold her own out here, he wasn’t kidding. The hike down to the river wound through unmarked trails, and Finn took over leading the way to the water. A time or two, she’d stop to get her footing or tuck a hair behind her ear but she never fell behind or needed a boost on the uneven, rocky terrain. When we’d stopped to decide if we wanted to try fishing here or a ways upstream, she swiped a bead of sweat off her forehead.

I knew it was shameful to think of her that way, but I couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to look down at her, beads of sweat at her temples, feeling my body on top of her and seeing pleasure spread across her face as I stretched her open with my cock. How long had it been since I’d felt the softness of a woman’s body underneath me? To lie together after we were both spent?

As if he could hear my traitorous thoughts, Finn looked over at me, his brows furrowed. Grunting, I pushed harder up the trail, trying to put a little distance between myself and Jo.

Once we reached a bend in the riverbank, our group spread wide across the shallow section of the river. We spaced ourselves to give plenty of room to cast without driving the fish too far downstream. After a few quick catches, Jo wandered off from the group—hiking the bank, walking the ridge toward the base of the mountain. She looked peaceful, gorgeous, and completely in her element.

Still fishing, the guys and I fell into an easy rhythm—shooting the shit like we’d always done. Deck told us about a few cases of vandalism he was working on. Someone was drawing smiling dicks with little top hats around town—probably local kids who got bored or a senior prank.

“Yeah, I saw one on the side of the Dairy Palace just yesterday,” I remarked, laughing.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he asked. “God damn it . . .” Grumbling, he pulled out his phone, I assumed to report the new dick in town, and I just laughed.

Colin was working on booking new bands to try to attract more people from the larger surrounding towns. We all talked a little about my time in Kandahar, but they didn’t press for specifics, and for that I was grateful.

As the afternoon stretched on, we wandered apart, and I could feel my tension dissolve as I listened to the noises of the riverbank. Water splashed against my boots. Birdsong in the trees. Even the rustling in the woods didn’t make me tense. When I saw a small rock bluff up ahead, I decided it would be the perfect spot to sit and think.

What were the odds that Jo wrote those letters? I had to get this timeline straight in my head—Finn said he met Jo during an English lit class at college. She was living here and going to school so it’s possible that Finn told her about writing the troops . . . or the Woman’s Club since it was always a big deal around town. The letters stopped when I’d come home, but I never met Jo? When did she move away? How did this never come up?

The fact that Finn already had a relationship with her gnawed at me. He clearly cared about her. It was a dick move to step in on that if he was trying to take their friendship to the next level, but fuck. I couldn’t stop thinking about little details about her—the way her hair moved over her shoulder when she walked. What would it feel like to brush it back off her face or brushing over my chest as she looked down at me?

I could imagine exactly what it would feel like, and my dick twitched in response. I had to force myself to bury those thoughts and stop thinking of her as anything other than Finn’s almost-girlfriend. She couldn’t mean anything to me.

Finn saw me sitting alone and, with the same unnerving scowl he’d had on earlier, started making his way toward me. I eyed him curiously, not used to seeing those hard lines on his face. Something was definitely up.

Fuck. Had he noticed me touching Jo at the truck? Had he seen the way I kept looking at her? I was such a piece of shit.

I could tell he had something on his mind, and I wasn’t entirely ready for this conversation. I had to tell my baby brother that I was hot for his girl. I didn’t think we’d start throwing punches, but if he was smart, he wouldn’t give her up easily.

As he reached the top of the rocks, he stood beside me, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. Breathing out a hard breath, he said, “There’s something important I need to talk to you about.”

I nodded.

“See . . . the thing is,” he continued, “you were gone a long time. A lot has changed.”

That hit me in the gut. When I’d enlisted, Finn was only fifteen. I never really considered that he felt like I’d left him—not like that, anyway.

Where is he going with this?

“I know you like to be alone—and we try to give you your space, but since you’ve been living out on Mr. Bailey’s property, there’s also a lot you miss at home . . .” Finn continued.

Mid-sentence, he shifted his weight. In that moment, a rock rattled beneath him and bounced down toward the river. Adjusting, Finn side-stepped, but the footing wasn’t secure. Instinctively, I reached for him but only managed to grab his shirt as he fell backward.

In slow motion, I watched Finn claw toward the rocks, trying to grab anything, but rocks tumbled with him. The drop was only eight feet or so, but as his big frame landed awkwardly, I heard the familiar, sickening sound of bones breaking.


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