Sound of Silence(19)

I'm in the third.

Grabbing my keys from the counter, I scoop up Gus before the next thought can join the chaos in my brain. If I don't think, I can't feel. If I don't feel, I can live.

"Caden?"

"I'm fine. I'll be back later," I call over my shoulder. As I race away from the only home I've ever known, I can't figure out why Justin sent me here. Why did he send me to the place with all of the memories, and to the one woman who makes the noise disappear, when I can't have her? I can't have Piper.

She's Justin's girl.

But he's dead and I am not.





I CAME TO the cottage to make sure Piper didn't need anything, but I haven't gone inside, and I can't leave. I'm stuck. As midnight drains the sky of color and heavy clouds blot out the stars, Gus and I sit on the porch swing. Like clockwork as the second clicks to each new hour, we walk the perimeter of the cottage, an ingrained safety tactic that calms the sounds in my head even though the only enemy here is the raccoon family burrowed under a fallen log behind the house.



Just as we round to the front yard post our three a.m. check, my cell vibrates in my pocket. A flash of unease straightens my shoulders but the name on the screen tugs up the corner of my mouth.

"Bear, you son-of-a-bitch."

His hearty laugh takes me back to the last time I heard it. One of his hands clasped my shoulder and the other landed on Justin's, the minute before we left camp for the mission. My heart thumps as I struggle to stop the winding path my mind wants to take.

"Lawless, my brother, it's good to hear your-"

"And you. I'm guessing just by timing that you're not Stateside."

"Truth," he says on a sigh. "I'd give my left nut-on some level ground-longer than an hour. We've been north of Bamyan-" The connection breaks into static as if to prove the distance between Oregon and Afghanistan. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time. The tower-not secure."

The line drops for a second and his voice garbles. "Gavin-Asil Marik."

I stand, reaching to grip the top of the slopping roofline. "What's that? Bear?"

"Dig, Lawless. I gotta roll," he says, just as the connection cuts out. Dig, Lawless. This time it's Justin imploring in my ear.

Asil Marik. The name is not familiar and that Bear, a man I trust with my life, mentioned it in the same sentence as my dad's makes my skin crawl. Dig. A term we use before a mission. Study, research, know everything about the target, and create contingency plans. Bear wants me to investigate Asil Marik, a needle in a haystack by any standards because I have no starting point. But why?



       
         
       
        

The answer comes as my eyes dart from one end of the street to the other, searching. Always searching for what could be out there. The only personal digging I have done was to find Dad's whereabouts. Asil Marik and Gavin Lawless are connected.

I let myself slide into that day, the last mission. The cold, crisp mountain air bit into my skin, but the convoy was warm as we deployed on what should have been an easy rescue. We knew the terrain, the camp, the numbers, the location, and the in and out-every step was accounted for, and with a Marine escort, we were confident. Until it went to hell.

Three vehicles move across Afghanistan.

I'm in the third.

Justin sits next to me . . .

"Caden?" Piper's voice snaps my gaze from the road to the cottage driveway, my arm strained and stiff over my head as I grip the sloping roof. Fuck. What the hell time is it? The sun has replaced the moon, and it struggles to shine beyond a rolling storm. It's coming.

I glance at Cara as she climbs out of the car, but I'm drawn back to Piper. Her yoga pants are tight but her gray sweater is big and loose, sliding from her shoulder, leaving it bare because her hair is pulled into a knot peppered with pink and blue, green and purple. But her eyes, they latch onto mine and won't let go as she takes the stairs one at a time, a baby clutched in her arms. I can't look away. Not when she has every reason to hate me for bailing on her the day before yet all I see is compassion. And acceptance. Not when the soft heal of her palm cups my cheek and her bottom lip trembles for a second before she draws it into her mouth. Her vulnerability speaks to mine, and although we're surrounded by a town full of people and Cara is steps behind her, we're so alone it seems only right to stay. To build upon our truce and grow a friendship that fills a common void.

"I'm glad you're home," she murmurs, and shuts out any explanation I need to give. Her fingers tighten for a moment and then slip from my face, but her gaze remains. She pats her leg for Gus to follow. "Come inside," she says. "Stay." Taking a step back and then another and another, she turns and disappears through the door.