It's an easy enough thing to walk into a gunfight yourself. You either make it out or you don't. It's something altogether different when you're responsible for leading a bunch of fresh-faced boys into the thick of it. There is no good death in war. They're all ugly and dark. They all hurt like a son of a bitch. Those that happen on your watch hurt even worse.
Men like Sophie's dad, men like Trick…they know that better than most. Sometimes, they're fortunate and those ghosts lie quietly, like they do for Trick. Other times, they're not as fortunate and the screams of the dying echo long after the dying is done. Sophie's dad…well, his ghosts haven't stopped haunting him yet.
"Smart man," he mutters to Dane. "Always tell them they look beautiful. And if they ask you if they look fat, the answer is always fucking no."
"Sophie never looks fat," Trick says.
"Neither does Sienna."
If Kennedy ever starts thinking she's too fat or too small or too anything, I'm spanking her ass. And then I'm fucking her until she forgets to think she's anything less than perfect.
"You two are smarter than you look." I see Richard climb to his feet out of the corner of my eye. He clasps Trick's shoulder. "I'll go check on our girl for you."
A speck of red catches my attention through the window. My heart slams against my ribcage when Kennedy steps outside, holding her dress up in her hand. She looks both ways as if she's trying to avoid someone—me—and then hurries down the steps of the church.
Where is she going?
"Good luck getting in," Trick mutters from behind me.
"Father of the bride gets special privileges," Richard says, rubbing it in.
Kennedy turns toward her car. If she's thinking about leaving, she's going to be sorely disappointed when her car doesn't start. I may be big, but I ain't stupid. She's rattled because she likes me. I disconnected her battery in case she tries to run. It won't keep her from leaving if she really wants to go, but it'll slow her down, give me time to convince her to stay.
"Do me a favor?" Trick says. "Give this to her. Tell her it's her something new."
"Will do."
As if she feels my eyes on her, she stops walking in the middle of the parking lot and turns to face the building. Her gaze scans along the front of the building before landing on me.
"What's in the box?" Dane asks.
"The artwork for her tattoo."
Kennedy jumps a good foot in the air, her eyes almost bugging out of her head, when I grin at her. She looks like I just caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.
I throw my head back and laugh loudly.
"She still giving you hell about her tattoo?" Dane asks Trick.
Kennedy narrows her eyes on me, scowling again. Swear to God, that look on her face makes my dick harder than steel. She's cute when she's annoyed. She lifts her little chin in the air and pointedly turns her back on me.
"Yep," Trick says.
The door opens again. "It's almost time, Elliot," the preacher says.
"Give me ten minutes."
"I'll go get Sienna," Dane says.
I climb to my feet, adjusting my tux. I hate wearing this shit. It feels ridiculous, like I'm somehow more exposed than I am when my ink is visible. "I'll go find Kennedy," I mutter.
"See you both out there. Thanks for being here," Trick says, his voice full of gratitude.
Like I'd be anywhere else. I was not a good kid. I fought, drank, stole, and raised nine kinds of hell. Got myself booted out of more than one foster home. Somehow, Trick always managed to make it all right though. He found a way to land where I did more than once until we aged out. We joined up as soon as I turned eighteen and deployed together the next year.
He's closer than blood as far as I'm concerned.
"We got you," I say, pulling him in to pound on his back. "Aut viam inveniam aut faciam."
I will either find a way or make one. The vow we made way back when to always look out for one another. Doesn't matter what shit comes down the pipe, we face it together.
"Always," he mutters, touching his forehead to mine with gratitude burning in his eyes.
I duck out of the room, going to find my girl.