Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(46)

“Nothing. You just made me think about something.”

He arched his brow in question as he guided his SUV up the mountain.

“I royally messed up with the way I left things. I was so sure I was doing the right thing, but I hurt so many people when I left.”

Nash turned onto a dirt road. “All any of us can do is what we think is right in the moment.”

I looked over at him. “And make amends when our actions miss the mark. I’m sorry, Nash. I know I haven’t been the best brother to you these last few years.”

“Shut up.”

I couldn’t hold in my bark of laughter. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“You don’t need to. So you didn’t want to come back to a place full of hard memories. Was your door always open to me?”

Nash had been to my place in Portland more times than I could count. And he’d used it as a crash pad whenever he needed some city time.

“Sure, but—”

“And did you always pick up the phone when I called?”

My mouth thinned. “I tried to—”

“I’m pretty sure you answered me on that sat phone in the middle of an op in Afghanistan. I heard gunfire. But there you were, asking if I was okay.” Nash pulled into a makeshift parking spot and leveled me with a stare. “You’ve got a messed-up idea of what kind of man you are.”

I opened my mouth, but Nash held up a hand to cut me off. “I’m not saying you’re perfect or that you haven’t hurt people. Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to have you home more. But you aren’t a bad person, Holt. You’ve always had a heart of gold. So much so that you put way too much on your shoulders.”

His words hurt, but it was the good kind of pain, the kind I’d take time and time again.

“Am I allowed to talk yet?” I asked.

Nash huffed out a breath. “Not if you’re going to keep being an idiot.”

I grinned and then pulled him in for a hard hug. “Thank you. I love you, brother.”

He froze and then gave me a hard thump on the back. “You know Grae is going to give us so much shit if we get out of this SUV crying.”

I didn’t try to hold in my laughter as I released him. “Can’t give her an opening.”

“Damn straight.”

We climbed out of the vehicle, and I took in the twenty or so people milling around. The team had grown in the past ten years, but it was just as diverse as it had been before—men and women of a variety of ages. People you wouldn’t think at first glance could hike up a mountain for ten miles and carry someone down. Others who screamed: outdoorsperson.

I opened the back door of the SUV and grabbed Shadow’s leash. She hopped out and immediately began sniffing around.

Grae made a beeline for us, dropping to give Shadow a scratch. “Where’s Wren?”

“She’s working.”

Grae’s eyes widened. “And she let you take Shadow?”

“I have taken care of a dog before,” I muttered.

She chuckled. “It’s just that Shadow is her baby. It’s hard for Wren to leave her with anyone.”

The smallest flicker of something flared to life in my chest—something that felt a lot like hope.

“Hey, man,” Jude called as he walked up. “Glad you decided to come.”

I grinned as I looked around at the familiar setup taking shape and breathed in the mountain air. “Me, too.”

“All right, everyone, gather around,” my dad called. “Who’s going to play our victim today?”

“Not Jude,” Grae quipped. “I had to carry his oversized butt last practice. My back hurt for a week.”

Jude grinned at her. “I could be a lightweight compared to who you might have to carry one of these days.”

Dad frowned at Grae. “He’s right about that. You’ve got extra snacks and your Glucagon kit, right?”

The humor that had been dancing on Grae’s face fled. “I have done this a time or two before.”

“I volunteer Nash for victim,” I cut in before the conversation could devolve.

Nash sent me a withering glare. “Gee, thanks.”

Dad nodded. “Put these under your shirt to get your scent on them. We’ll give them to the dogs.”

“You’re gonna pay for this, Holt,” Nash growled.

Jude choked on a laugh. “Let’s give him a fun injury, Nathan. Broken tailbone maybe?”

Nash chased after Jude, trying to give him a good swift kick. “I’ll show you a broken tailbone.”

I glanced at Grae, hoping for a flicker of a smile, but she stared at the ground. “G.”

She looked up and shook her head. “I’m good. I’m gonna go check my pack.”

Crap. Grae never took kindly to someone challenging her ability to care for herself just because she had type 1 diabetes. But for those of us who had been there when we almost lost her, it was hard not to check and double-check that she had everything she needed.

Shadow let out a little whine, and I tipped my head down. “Need a potty break?”

She panted, and I led her into the forest a couple of steps so she could do her business. As I came back out of the trees, I caught sight of Roan, leaning against a pine, present with the group but not a part of it.