Chapter One
“When were you going to tell me?” The slamming door brought Dylan up short as Hurricane Bowen swept into the room bringing chaos in his wake. “I had to find out from the mail lady. The mail lady, Dylan!”
Dylan glanced around at the baskets of laundry, packing boxes, and luggage then winced. “Bo.” He had no idea what to say. Or how to explain. “I was going to tell you tonight.”
“Are you sure you weren’t going to wait until I was gone and just run off and…” Bo raked his hand through his short hair, making it stand up on end. He wore swim trunks that were at the moment dripping onto the carpet. His golden body shimmered from the pool. His gaze roamed the room, taking in the disorder that occupied the usually tidy space. “You enlisted? In the Marines? Come on Dyl, tell me she was lying. Tell me you aren’t…fuck you are leaving me, aren’t you?” he shouted when his gaze came to rest on the piece of luggage in front of Dylan.
Dylan could feel the rage coursing through his friend from across the room. And that made him angry. “ I’m leaving you? Pardon me, but who is the one having the going away party tonight?”
Bo stopped staring at the open suitcase. Dylan was trying to whittle his worldly possessions down to one small bag but so much of it couldn’t be left behind. He’d agonized all morning, sorting things to go into storage or to get rid of completely. One small bag of things he’d need and the things he couldn’t live without. The picture of the two of them taken right after the State win in December, both in uniform and sweaty, was on top. He couldn’t leave that behind.
“I’m just going to school, only a couple hundred miles from here. You’re going to…they’ll send you to war. You can’t go.” Bo took the frame from its place on top of the few items of clothing Dylan had packed and held it like a shield. “I won’t let you.”
“You won’t let me?” Dylan stopped folding the t-shirt in his hands, or twisting it, he’d stopped folding long before. “I wasn’t scouted and I didn’t get a scholarship. Big Man Bowen Murphy is going all the way to the NFL and I’m not going to stay home pining for him.”
“You could have come with me. You could have gone to school and maybe gotten a walk-on tryout.” Hope entered his friend’s eyes, a hope that Dylan didn’t want to kill. But he had no choice.
“I can’t go to school, Bo, not this year. There’s no money. I don’t qualify for financial aid because on paper there is money. But there isn’t. Dad left tons of debt. Mom is going to sell the house. The insurance barely covered his funeral. Maybe next year. But next year—“
“Next year you’ll be in Iraq or Afghanistan. The year after, probably Iran or Syria. Or hell, maybe we’ll invade Mars in the next year. Or you’ll be dead.” Fear tinged his voice. One thing about Bowen was his no fear mentality. Take no prisoners. Show no fear. Beat them at their own game in their own house. That’s why he had the big scholarship and the bright future. All the way back to pee wee league it had been the same. Bo, the big chunky boy who didn’t talk much, but no one pushed him down. No one pushed Dylan down either. They’d have Bo to deal with. Bo and Dylan. Dylan and Bo. They were a team. A unit. Where one went, the other wasn’t far behind.
Except now, Dylan had to stand on his own. “I can’t be dead. You’d fly over and take on the whole Middle East if that happened.” He tried to laugh it off. Hoping to make Bo accept that this wasn’t such a bad thing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” So much for that idea. Bo threw the frame against the wall, the force of impact shattered the wood and glass, and the photo fell face down in the pile of debris.
“You asshole, why’d you do that?” Dylan was across the room before he knew what he was doing. He shoved Bo as hard as he could, but that was like shoving a brick wall. A brick wall that
“When were you going to tell me?” The slamming door brought Dylan up short as Hurricane Bowen swept into the room bringing chaos in his wake. “I had to find out from the mail lady. The mail lady, Dylan!”
Dylan glanced around at the baskets of laundry, packing boxes, and luggage then winced. “Bo.” He had no idea what to say. Or how to explain. “I was going to tell you tonight.”
“Are you sure you weren’t going to wait until I was gone and just run off and…” Bo raked his hand through his short hair, making it stand up on end. He wore swim trunks that were at the moment dripping onto the carpet. His golden body shimmered from the pool. His gaze roamed the room, taking in the disorder that occupied the usually tidy space. “You enlisted? In the Marines? Come on Dyl, tell me she was lying. Tell me you aren’t…fuck you are leaving me, aren’t you?” he shouted when his gaze came to rest on the piece of luggage in front of Dylan.
Dylan could feel the rage coursing through his friend from across the room. And that made him angry. “ I’m leaving you? Pardon me, but who is the one having the going away party tonight?”
Bo stopped staring at the open suitcase. Dylan was trying to whittle his worldly possessions down to one small bag but so much of it couldn’t be left behind. He’d agonized all morning, sorting things to go into storage or to get rid of completely. One small bag of things he’d need and the things he couldn’t live without. The picture of the two of them taken right after the State win in December, both in uniform and sweaty, was on top. He couldn’t leave that behind.
“I’m just going to school, only a couple hundred miles from here. You’re going to…they’ll send you to war. You can’t go.” Bo took the frame from its place on top of the few items of clothing Dylan had packed and held it like a shield. “I won’t let you.”
“You won’t let me?” Dylan stopped folding the t-shirt in his hands, or twisting it, he’d stopped folding long before. “I wasn’t scouted and I didn’t get a scholarship. Big Man Bowen Murphy is going all the way to the NFL and I’m not going to stay home pining for him.”
“You could have come with me. You could have gone to school and maybe gotten a walk-on tryout.” Hope entered his friend’s eyes, a hope that Dylan didn’t want to kill. But he had no choice.
“I can’t go to school, Bo, not this year. There’s no money. I don’t qualify for financial aid because on paper there is money. But there isn’t. Dad left tons of debt. Mom is going to sell the house. The insurance barely covered his funeral. Maybe next year. But next year—“
“Next year you’ll be in Iraq or Afghanistan. The year after, probably Iran or Syria. Or hell, maybe we’ll invade Mars in the next year. Or you’ll be dead.” Fear tinged his voice. One thing about Bowen was his no fear mentality. Take no prisoners. Show no fear. Beat them at their own game in their own house. That’s why he had the big scholarship and the bright future. All the way back to pee wee league it had been the same. Bo, the big chunky boy who didn’t talk much, but no one pushed him down. No one pushed Dylan down either. They’d have Bo to deal with. Bo and Dylan. Dylan and Bo. They were a team. A unit. Where one went, the other wasn’t far behind.
Except now, Dylan had to stand on his own. “I can’t be dead. You’d fly over and take on the whole Middle East if that happened.” He tried to laugh it off. Hoping to make Bo accept that this wasn’t such a bad thing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” So much for that idea. Bo threw the frame against the wall, the force of impact shattered the wood and glass, and the photo fell face down in the pile of debris.
“You asshole, why’d you do that?” Dylan was across the room before he knew what he was doing. He shoved Bo as hard as he could, but that was like shoving a brick wall. A brick wall that
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