“That’s fucking bullshit.” Jake’s hands fisted at his sides, and it was all he could do to control his anger.
“Is it?” Cain asked, taking a step back and reaching for his whiskey. He downed the glass and slammed it on the counter.
“You’ve loved that girl for more years than I can remember. And from what little I can see, she’s crazy about you. So why is Raine”—he checked his watch—“on her way to St. Paul’s with my wife, on Christmas Eve, for Christ’s sake, while you’re sitting in the Coach House feeling sorry for yourself, or guilty, or whatever the fuck it is you’re feeling, about stuff that’s already over and done with? About things you can’t change?”
A strangled sound escaped Jake’s throat, and Mackenzie moved in again, this time the lightness in his eyes long gone. “Keep it happy, boys.”
Cain tugged his hat back on and waved good-bye to Sal.
“Don’t step aside and play the good guy for a ghost. A ghost isn’t what Raine needs. You are.”
And just like that, Cain was done. He tugged on his leather gloves and nodded to Mac. “You coming?”
“That depends,” Mackenzie replied, turning to Jake. “You all right?”
Jake nodded, unable to answer. His chest was still tight and his throat felt as if he’d swallowed a block of lead.
Mackenzie patted him on the shoulder and moved aside as Cain stepped in again. The two men stared at each other long and hard, and when Cain put his hand on Jake’s shoulder, something inside Jake loosened. It broke free, and suddenly the tightness was gone.
“You need to make peace with your brother and move on,” Cain said roughly. “We can’t lose you too.”
Jake nodded.
“Are we good?” Cain asked.
“We’re good,” Jake answered haltingly and then whispered, “Thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me for pointing out the obvious. You just need to do the right thing. You need to choose life.”
Cain glanced at the door. “You wanna come with us? I’m heading over to the church to meet up with Maggie and Michael, and they’re with Raine and her mother, and I’m pretty sure your parents are there too.”
Jake shook his head, his mind reeling at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he could make things right.
“Go ahead,” Jake said as he tossed some bills onto the counter. “I got something I have to do first.” He pulled out his cell and turned it on, wincing when he saw several calls from Raine, and heading out into the cold, he hit speed dial.
***
The drive out to the cemetery didn’t take long at all. No one was on the roads, which was good, because they were on the treacherous side. With the cooler temps rolling in and a crisp breeze that sent snow flying, there were several spots where drifts had crossed the road.
Jake pulled into the entrance, but with several feet of snow blocking his way, he knew he’d have to hoof it the rest of the way in.
It was a clear evening, the kind where the sky is filled with black velvet and sharp, sparkling diamonds. He tugged on his collar as he glanced above him, and not for the first time, he felt small. Insignificant. He headed into the cemetery, his steps bringing him closer to the big oak tree that overlooked his family plot, there at row thirty-six. He had no trouble seeing, thanks to the stars and a cold December moon that hung low in the sky.
He hadn’t been out here since the day they’d buried Jesse, and Jake was unprepared for the wash of emotion that rolled over him when he spied the grave.
Snow dusted the top of the dark granite piece, but there were Christmas greens at the base and a candleholder that was nearly buried under the snow.
He paused just in front and stared down, reading for the first time the words his parents had had inscribed into the granite.
Jesse Edwards
Son. Brother. Husband. Soldier. Never forgotten.
There it was. Laid out nice and simple.
The wind swooped down, ruffling the greens, and Jake shivered, whether from the cold or the onslaught of emotions he wasn’t sure. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the wind, his eyes riveted on his brother’s name.
Jesse Edwards