Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
The last of the sunlight spilled over the ocean, bathing the flow of the waterfall in a haze of honey.
The jungle behind them whispered in low, living tones, soothing the anxiousness in his chest.
Valor got their fire roaring while Zorion spread a wide blanket on the grass and unpacked the fruit and cider from their satchels.
He was staring at the flames when Zorion called to him.
“Come ’ere,” he whispered.
Valor knelt and reclined against Zorion’s chest.
After a long moment, he took the thick folder and laid it across his lap. His hands hovered over the clasp.
It felt like opening it would split their world into two parts. Before and after. Part of him didn’t want to look back.
The call of Zorion’s eagle gave them a few extra seconds of delay.
Zorion held his arm out as the massive raptor dove and landed with flair on his forearm. It squawked and flapped its wings as if pissed that Zorion had taken so long to return.
“I missed you too, buddy.” Zorion smiled, brushing the back of his hand over its chest.
When it was satisfied with Zorion’s attention, it lurched off his arm, flew toward a nearby branch, and settled in.
It was as if their animals knew of their inner turmoil and could sense their stress.
Neptune inched closer until he was on the blanket and leaning into his side, purring with her heavy head pressed against Valor’s thigh.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Zorion whispered against his temple. “Or ever.”
Valor exhaled. “We came this far. We might as well know.”
He opened the file.
Inside was a haphazard stack of photographs and papers, so much physical proof of the lives they’d once lived.
The first stack was of Zorion…no, Sawyer, maybe twenty years old in a crisp uniform, donning the same stern expression all sailors wore for their military photo.
He looked so young and determined, his eyes gleaming with the promise of the journeys and excitement to come.
Valor traced the edge of the photo with one finger and glanced back at Zorion.
There was no flicker of recognition or memories in his sad eyes.
They flipped through every picture of their apparent distinguished careers.
Them during training camps, receiving metals, documented promotions. Shots of both of them in combat gear, posing with their respective crews. Valor stared at Zorion, in blue-and-gray Navy fatigues, standing on the deck of a matte black combat boat that resembled something from an action movie. It had to be at least seventy feet long, its body sharp and angular, built for speed, with multiple mounted machine guns and grenade launchers.
Zorion sat on the platform of the stern with another guy, their fatigues rolled up to their knees and feet dangling in the water. They were laughing, with their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders.
Valor hoped the stranger was a good friend of his…not a lover.
Across the back of the boat was the name…Neptune.
“Holy shit,” Valor gasped, sitting up taller.
He glanced down at the sleeping Persian leopard at his side and stroked the top of her head.
Neptune.
“So that’s where you got her name.” Zorion hugged him tight from behind.
Valor saw images of himself with his crew on his own warcraft, but unfortunately, he didn’t recognize a single face. There was a document with all the names of the sailors assigned to his command, but he couldn’t match their faces.
He had no doubt they were strong, capable, glorious men he’d once been honored to serve with.
And he didn’t remember a single one.
Those men had to be important to him. Some were probably his best friends.
Dammit!
A stab of anger shot through him.
Neptune stirred, her purring growing louder as she lifted her head and rested it on his thigh.
“I’m all right, girl,” he whispered. “I’m all right.”
Zorion gazed at a photo of him at the helm of the Chariot.
“You look so strong and commanding, Val.” Zorion moaned. “And we need to get you some of those aviator shades like yesterday. Fuck, you look sexy wearing those.”
Valor pfft’d, but he admitted he did look like a boss.
“There are no images of us together.” Valor frowned.
“Maybe we didn’t know each other back then.”
There wasn’t much on their lives before the military: spouses, children, or living relatives, but it did say Valor came from a long line of men who’d served in the Army. All were killed in combat, except his father.
“Maybe we can find him,” Zorion said. “I’m sure Glitch can.”
Valor sighed, thinking for a moment before he shook his head slowly.
“The son he knew is gone.”
“Val.” Zorion gripped his chin, turned his head, and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. “Are you sure?”
Valor nodded, then turned to another photo. Each one was a memory neither of them could touch.
And they were okay with that.
Zorion homed in on a grainy picture of them side by side at a bar.
A jukebox was visible in the background, half-empty bottles on the bar. But what made Valor freeze was the expression on Zorion’s face.