Baby, It's Cold Outside

Chapter 1-2

Grief smelled of onions, cheese, and cream of something soup. Multiple tables groaned under the weight of death casseroles along one wall of the church fellowship hall. The scent of it wafted over as Harrison Wilkes walked in, simultaneously curdling his stomach and making it growl. A quick scan of the room told him the widow hadn’t made it over from the cemetery yet, but he spotted the man he’d come to support hovering near the dessert table. Careful not to make eye contact with the other mourners, Harrison wove his way through the crowd.

If possible, Ty looked worse than he had during the service. But then, he was here against medical advice and had served as a pall bearer. Sweat beaded along his brow. His shoulder had to be hurting like a son of a b***h from over-exertion.

“Sit your ass down before you fall down, Brooks.”

Ty lifted bloodshot eyes to Harrison’s. “You’re not my CO.”

“I’m still your friend.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “You did your duty to Garrett. Don’t you go blowing all the work you’ve done in PT by pushing yourself too far.”

Ty’s pale face turned mulish, but before he could pop off, another familiar voice interrupted.

“Step aside, y’all. I’ve got food to add to the table.”

Sebastian Donnelly muscled his way past, a casserole dish in hand. Its contents smelled both familiar and noxious.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Harrison said.

Sebastian plunked the dish down on the table and took off the foil. “My famous barbeque beef casserole.”

“More like infamous,” Ty said. “Only you would try to make a casserole out of MREs.”

“I tried to talk him out of it.” Porter Ingram joined the group. “We all know how much Garrett hated that shit.”

Sebastian straightened, suddenly sober. “Yeah, but he’d hate this damned wake even more.”

They all lapsed into silence, aware of the dubious privilege of standing here able to b***h and moan about the wake. A privilege Garrett didn’t have.

Everything about this sucked. Funerals sucked to begin with, no matter who they were for. They sucked worse when it was a friend. Someone you’d fought alongside, who’d saved your ass, who should’ve made it home. And they sucked most when they brought up old s**t you were still trying to move past. There were too many ghosts stirred up for anybody to be comfortable.

“Come on. Let’s either make plates or go sit down.” Porter’s voice interrupted Harrison’s thoughts.

“I’m not hungry,” Ty insisted.

“Then let’s get out of the way for the people who are.” Porter smoothly managed to nudge him toward a table.

“Always the peacemaker,” Harrison murmured.

“Yeah, he’s good at that.” Sebastian picked up a paper plate and began filling it from the assortment of dishes, skipping his own offering to the spread.

Not knowing what else to do, Harrison fell in behind him.

“How are you doing with all this?” Sebastian asked.

It was instinct to deflect. “Better than Ty.”

They both looked across the room, where he’d finally sat, shoulders bowed, head bent as if he couldn’t hold it up anymore. Porter had a chair pulled up, talking to him in a low voice, one hand on his arm.

Sebastian scooped up some kind of hash brown casserole. “You think he’ll come back from this?”

“You never come back from this. Not really.” Harrison twitched his shoulders inside the jacket of his suit, wishing the thing didn’t feel like a straitjacket.

Glancing at Ty, seeing the clench of his jaw, the lines of strain fanning out from his eyes, Harrison knew exactly the kind of s**t going through his buddy’s head. He’d been there. It was the reason he’d left the Army. It didn’t feel like three years. Not when so many familiar faces filled the room. Men he’d fought with, bled with. Many were still fighting the fight. In his own way, so was he. But he couldn’t do what they did. Not anymore.

Harrison trailed Sebastian across the room, nodding acknowledgments to those who greeted him, but not stopping until he reached Ty’s table. Ty went silent, straightening in his chair with a Styrofoam cup he no doubt wished held something stronger than sweet tea, as they all realized Bethany Reeves had just arrived.

Ty hadn’t spoken to her at the funeral. He hadn’t even been able to go near her. He blamed himself for Garrett’s death. Wrongly. But none of them could talk him out of that at this stage. So the three of them ranged around him, buffers between their friend and everybody else here. They shoveled in food and talked football and other stupid, civilian s**t because he needed distraction and it was all they could do here. But they each tracked Bethany’s progress around the room and braced themselves when she made her way to Ty.

He didn’t bolt. Ty was no coward and his mother had raised him better than that. But Harrison knew he wanted to.

Bethany’s face was ravaged by grief as she reached out for Ty’s hand. “Ty.”

“Ma’am.”

Her expression twisted. “Don’t you ma’am me, Tyson Brooks. You were the closest thing Garrett had to a brother, and that makes you family.”

Ty’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I loved him like a brother.”

“I know you did.” She tried to smile, but tears streamed down her face. “He got out because of you. You’re a hero for that.”

Ty shoved to his feet so fast his chair tipped over, the metal clattering against the industrial tile floor as he jerked his hand from Bethany’s. In the sudden silence, his words sounded too loud. “I’m no hero.”

He walked out without another word. With apologetic looks at Bethany, Sebastian and Porter followed, no doubt to make sure he didn’t do something stupid. That left Harrison to find the right thing to say to the poor woman to smooth things over. f**k.

He didn’t know how much Bethany knew about the details of her husband’s death. Some of the details were classified, as Ranger missions often were. There were things he didn’t know himself, but could easily fill in from experience. And he knew those things wouldn’t bring comfort to Garrett’s widow. In truth, he had no idea how to comfort those left behind. Standing beside her, looking into her stricken face, he felt all the old impotence rise up, strong enough to choke him.

Harrison didn’t know what he said to Bethany. His head was too full of the visits he’d had to make to the significant others of his own men. But he said something, taking a moment to squeeze her hand because even he could tell she needed human connection. The grasp of her cold, clammy fingers sent him back, until his head echoed with tears and recriminations. Needing to get the hell out, he made his excuses and all but ran for the exit.

Outside the fellowship hall, he braced his hands against the trunk of a car and sucked in big, cleansing lungfuls of the cold, winter air. It was so cold it hurt, colder than it should be in north Georgia this time of year. But the pain was good. The pain brought him back to the now.

“Hey.”

Harrison straightened and turned to Porter. “Where’s Ty?”

“Sebastian took him home. He’s gonna stick around a while, keep an eye on him.”

“Good.” Ty didn’t need to be left alone right now. He had a long, dark road ahead.

Porter angled his head, studying Harrison with eyes that saw too much. “You’re not looking so great.”

Because it was Porter, because he’d see through the bullshit, Harrison admitted the truth. “I need to get the hell out of here.”

“I’ve got a cabin nobody’s using. It’s a chunk out from town, away from everything and everybody. It’s yours if you want it. Peace and quiet and a chance to get your head screwed on straight. And Eden’s Ridge is closer than you driving all the way home.”

The whole idea of being in the middle of nowhere in the mountains of Tennessee, away from people and pressures, where he could think was beyond appealing. He had some decisions to make. It would be easier to make them without all the reminders of the past.

“Lead the way.”