Chapter 9
Other than routine interactions on the ship, they never talked about their relationship.
Still, as well as they managed to keep the team together, there was no denying that the mood had shifted.
Their team had matured in ways they hadn’t expected, and their easy camaraderie had changed with it.
They were all carrying around a burden that Abe was afraid they could no longer put down.
And if they couldn’t—then, they would have to get stronger—there had to be a way to make it easier to carry.
They’d been back stateside for a few weeks, and Abe had approved extra leave time for them to recover.
But now, with only two weeks remaining before their next deployment, Abe needed his men to brace themselves for shipping out to another war zone.
They couldn’t afford to be weighed down by guilt when it was imperative that they get back into the field and be able to perform at their usual, superior level.
So, fed up with the dark cloud that followed them around, Abe had woken his boys with a mandatory training run on the beach, before announcing they were going to have a “team day.” Beyond a few lifted eyebrows, he’d gotten no further reaction from his sullen men, which was a clear sign that morale was way the hell down.
Oliver, who’d witnessed Aberlour’s depth of sorrow and anguish firsthand, shook his head and smiled as his lover proclaimed a day of “fun and fuckery.” Highly skeptical about the effectiveness of Aberlour’s plan, he jumped into the passenger seat of Aberlour’s truck anyway.
“Was setting our alarm to go off at the asscrack of dawn really necessary?” Oliver yawned as he lifted his to-go mug of coffee.
Aberlour winked at him in reply.
He’d assured all of them that going to the carnival was guaranteed therapy. Their varied looks of disbelief were combined with a round of groans and complaints. Aberlour had stood his ground, so they all piled into their cars and followed him.
Some lighthearted fun, way too much food, and adrenaline rushes ought to get them back in the right head space by Aberlour’s calculations.
That—and frankly—he needed his men to be able to be around children again without crumbling with grief. So—exposure therapy mixed with fun. It was a perfect cocktail in his book.
None of them had believed him.
After several hours at the carnival, their smiles and laughter had finally returned to normal. Aberlour was filled with self-satisfaction that he’d made the right call. Did he know his team, or what?
“If I eat another thing, I’ll puke,” Carlos complained, one hand pressed against his abdomen.
“No one forced you to finish those fried Oreos,” Marcus laughed, not even a little sympathetic.
They all watched as Dave attempted to break the record of the high striker.
He lifted the mallet, and then using all of his core strength, brought it down heavily.
The ball went up, up, upppp, and then fell right back down.
It wasn’t anywhere near the top, and they hooted and hollered at his failure.
“Nice try, Ghost!” Oliver was not entirely successful in suppressing his sarcastic smile.
“Fuck off! I’d like to see you try with your toothpick arms,” Ghost replied scornfully.
Oliver laughed, clamping a hand onto Ghost’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake.
“I wanted to win Sophie a teddy bear to keep her company while we’re deployed,” Ghost said quietly.
“Just buy one at Walmart,” JD advised him, rolling his eyes and stuffing his face with cotton candy, his fingers pink and sticky.
Ghost mumbled something in an undertone.
“What?” Carlos asked, looking around and trying to decide on his next ride.
“Not the same,” Ghost sighed in a defeated tone and shrugged half-heartedly.
“Then get Abe to win you one,” Marcus said, like that was obviously the solution to the problem.
“Pretty sure I’m stronger than Dumber,” JD stated confidently, flexing his biceps and smirking.
Oliver slapped the back of JD’s head lightly.
“He meant at darts, dumbass,” Oliver chastised with an accompanying eyeroll.
“Would you?” Ghost’s face lit up as he turned towards Abe with a hopeful, puppy dog look.
He was the perfect example of an introvert.
It was rare to see him display any outward emotion, which made it especially remarkable that he was practically bouncing up and down in anticipation of Aberlour fixing his teddy bear problem.
Aberlour smiled, cocky and boastful.
“’Course, Ghost. I’ll win your kiddo a teddy bear.”
Plan in place, they began walking towards the aisles containing all the game booths, Carlos occasionally oohing and ahhing at the different rides they could go on afterwards. Apparently, his stomach wasn’t bothering him anymore.
“You there, lad! You look as if you’d be a good shot.
Wanna take on Betsy?” An old man called out to Carlos.
He was sitting on the edge of his booth, his smile reminded Aberlour of a clown, but he wore jeans and a t-shirt.
The only odd thing about him—besides his clown-like smile—was his red top hat.
“Not me, but my friend will try,” Carlos said, stepping aside and pushing Abe forward.
“You got what it takes?” The man challenged Aberlour, in the practiced manner of a circus barker.
“We’ll see, I guess,” Abe replied, doing his best not to sound too confident.
“Alright then, take these seven darts, step back behind the blue line, and shoot the balloons. If five pop, you get one of the smaller prizes. For the big boys, eight balloons.”
“Eight? He’s only got seven darts,” Carlos exclaimed.
“Them’s the rules, boys. Hardest shot in the park, cheapest one too,” he said, holding out his hands in a gesture of weighing options.
Abe handed over the ten-dollar fee, grabbed the darts, and stepped behind the blue line painted on the dusty ground.
His men backed away to make sure he had a clear line of sight.
The balloons—yellow, red, blue, and green—were old.
They were no longer filled to bursting, but rather slightly deflated from baking under the sun all day.
It made the trick shot harder. If the rubber wasn’t stretched, it wasn’t as likely to pop. But that didn’t matter to Aberlour.
“Careful not to step over the line, or that dart is no good,” the man warned.
Aberlour rolled his eyes and took an extra step back for dramatic effect.
The odd little man chuckled.
One dart, one red balloon.
Second dart, yellow balloon.
Third dart, red balloon.
Fourth dart, blue balloon.
Fifth dart, yellow balloon.
Sixth dart, green balloon.
“You boys military?” The man asked, not laughing anymore, but still amused. Clearly, Aberlour’s performance was impressive, and he didn’t mind admitting it.
“Yes, sir,” Marcus replied, respectfully.
It was the final shot. The big one. Two for one. Aberlour saved this one for last. Cocky and confident, far more so than any man should have been. It was nothing more than a silly trick shot he could do in his sleep, but his fingers tingled with anticipation anyway.
“Don’t miss now, sonny,” the man said, trying to rattle him.
Aberlour was a cocky sonofabitch, but then again, his aim was the foundation of everything he’d accomplished in life.
It was the one thing he could always count on.
Even when everything else in his world was unsteady, his perfect aim remained unshakeable.
It was always there for him whenever he needed it.
“Get it, Dumber,” Oliver encouraged.
Aberlour turned, unable to resist the urge to wink at him. Without even looking at the balloons, he threw the dart and his smile only grew as two pops were heard, one right after the other.
“Hot damn!” JD exclaimed around a mouthful of cotton candy that made his tongue pink.
“?Puta Madre!” Carlos yelled, rushing up to press a kiss to Abe’s cheek.
“Well, I’ll be damned, Uncle Sam is lucky to have you, that’s for fucking sure,” the booth owner said, laughing loudly.
Aberlour didn’t speak, just smiled and shrugged. The darts were firmly planted in the back of the board. A feat which, in and of itself, was impressive. Darts usually bounced back. Not Aberlour’s. If he wanted the darts to hit the board, then that’s exactly where they went, and where they stayed.
“Which one do you want?” The odd man asked, still laughing as he gestured towards the upper row of stuffed toys.
Abe turned to Ghost, who was smiling from ear to ear as he said, “The big white one with the red bow. She’s gonna love that one.”
Abe smiled and nodded before turning to the odd man and asking for that same bear.
The odd man took it down with a smile. A genuine one that betrayed how impressed he was.
“She’s a lucky young lady,” he said, handing over the bear.
Ghost’s smile was brighter than the sun.
Aberlour gave the old man a mock salute, to which the man lifted his top hat in response. Then the team turned and followed Carlos, who’d planned their next ride.
Aberlour hung back, content to watch his men jump on each other’s backs, roughhousing like teenagers. There was one missing, however. One who’d fallen into step beside Abe.
“What’s the cutoff age for getting giant teddy bears?” Oliver asked teasingly, as he nudged Aberlour’s shoulder with his own.
He’d gotten his hair cut recently, but it was still longer than regulation length.
No one would get on his case about it, however.
They’d earned a little slack from high command.
Besides, how could anyone disagree with this man, when his smile was so incredibly beautiful, and his bright blue eyes twinkled with such good-natured mischief?
“You jealous?” Aberlour taunted, as they kept walking.
“Absolutely,” Oliver answered with a firm nod.
Aberlour put his head back and laughed boisterously. Finally catching his breath, he shook his head and knocked his shoulder into Oli’s.
“All you have to do is ask and I’ll buy the fucking booth,” Aberlour said, voice low and husky.
“Ah, a harem of plush toys, every Marine’s dream,” Oliver replied with a dramatic sigh.
He’d swung around and was walking backwards.
Not really a very smart move, since it was so crowded, but it gave Aberlour the perfect reason to clasp a hand over his arm and steer him straight.
It was crazy how much he craved touching Oli all the time.
“You’d be good at it, too,” Oliver said, looking like a dream as he smiled up at Aberlour, walking backwards like the world had no consequences and living was easy.
“What’s that?”
“Being a carnival booth owner. You’d be good at it,” Oliver clarified with a solid nod.
“Why’s that?” Abe asked, more to humour Oli than anything else.
“’Cause you’re cocky as hell. You’d show everyone up, and never miss. It would be like your walking wet dream. Just you and something to shoot, day in and day out.” It sounded disarmingly simple when Oliver put it like that.
“You’re ridiculous, Darling,” Abe said, shaking his head.
“Hey, you’re the dumb one who said he’d buy it for me,” Oliver shrugged, his smile now wider than ever.
He swung around facing forward again, and sauntered over to the others, jumping onto JD’s shoulder without any warning.
The taller man complained, his mouth full of corndog, as he knocked Oli sideways in retaliation.
They rode the dragon roller coaster, Carlos puked, while Marcus, Oliver, and JD laughed. Ghost offered him a handful of napkins to clean up his face, and Aberlour just shook his head.
They rode the Ferris Wheel, and Abe pretended not to notice when Oliver snaked his arms around his waist. They said nothing about it. They simply sat, alone in their little enclosed cabin, watching the carnival lights as the sun faded.
They ate more deep-fried Oreos. Someone bought churros.
Carlos puked once more. JD never stopped eating.
Ghost grinned as he carried around his stuffed bear and had to work hard to keep it clean and white.
Marcus dragged them to a puppet show, and all of them nearly passed out on the teacup ride.
By the time they wobbled back to the parking lot, drained from a day spent puking and eating too much while walking around the carnival in the hot sun, Oliver was walking next to Abe again, their elbows brushing, their steps naturally falling into synch.
“I fucking love this team,” he whispered and grinned.
“Idiots, the lot of ‘em,” Abe said, because he agreed.
“Idiots you’d die for,” Oliver responded, knowing exactly how Aberlour felt about each of them.
“Any day,” Abe agreed.
“You’re a sentimental fucker, you know that?” Oliver asked, turning around to start walking backwards again as he spoke.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same.”
Aberlour did his best to hide his smile, but he hooked an arm around Oliver’s neck, spinning him around so they were both facing forward, and he leaned his head against Oli’s.
“You’ll take that secret to the grave, right, Darling?”
Oli chuckled, and although Aberlour couldn’t see his face, he knew there was an eye roll to go along with it.
“Fucking Dumber,” he muttered. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Aberlour tightened his hold on Oli for a second, taking a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by the other man’s familiar scent, before pushing him away like they’d been roughhousing.
“Go wrangle your kids. JD’s not allowed to sit in front,” he said, because that topic was safe.
“Yes, dear,” Oliver said because he meant every word.
On the car ride back, JD announced his intentions to propose to his girlfriend before he shipped out. Then, he told them about their role in the whole affair, and when Oli’s eyes met his from the passenger seat, they were shining with an emotion Aberlour didn’t dare name.