Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jaxon broke down the cardboard box and set it beside the back door to put out with the recyclables, then swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead.
He hated moving. He should be used to it by now, but it never seemed to get easier.
He had learned after the first two or three times to keep only what he needed, so he had downsized considerably over the past ten years.
Still, he had brought all his childhood mementos that Abel and Emily had packed away.
He would have to go through that stuff at some point, but for now, he shoved the boxes in the spare bedroom.
“Where do you want this stuff?” Mason brought in the last box, and Jaxon gestured to the counter. “Anywhere over there is fine.”
Mason slid the box across the cheap tan Formica, then leaned a hip against the counter and rubbed the back of his forearm along his sweaty forehead.
It was hot outside, and the air-conditioning of the small apartment was welcome.
Jaxon reached into the fridge and snagged two bottles of beer.
Mason tipped his head in gratitude as Jaxon passed one to him. “Thanks for your help today, man.”
Jaxon glanced around the tiny two-bedroom sublet.
He had been lucky enough to find one already furnished, so he had only had to bring his things.
Still, it had been easier with Mason’s help.
Mason was another member of Vantage, an ex-Marine Jaxon had met on a mission back in Kabul. It was the same time he had met Knox.
The different branches of the military all intermingled, each focused on their part of the mission, but they had become fast friends—or as close to friends as any military man could have. They had bonded during some downtime over a game of poker and The Walking Dead.
Mason Kane himself had just been discharged and had only been with Vantage for about two weeks now. He seemed to be enjoying it so far, which was a good omen for Jaxon. Like every other soldier who had spent several tours overseas, Jaxon was worried about returning to civilian life.
People didn’t understand how different it was.
Every time he came home, it was like culture shock; he didn’t know where he fit in or how to act.
He was hoping that this gig with Vantage worked out.
Almost every member was ex-military, though he knew from what Mason had said that there was an ex-FBI agent there as well.
He assumed that had been strategic on Knox’s part.
Over the course of the morning, Mason had caught Jaxon up on some of the jobs the other guys were working. Though he wasn’t technically scheduled to start for another week, he was ready to hit the ground running. He glanced at the clock. Just after six.
Motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned back to Mason, who pulled a small stack of mail from his back pocket and tossed it on the table. “Grabbed those off the seat of your truck.”
“Cool. Thanks, man.” Jaxon had been studiously avoiding that particular stack of mail for a week, and he wasn’t any closer to addressing it now. He cleared his throat. “Plans for tonight?”
A grimace broke over Mason’s face. “Nothing good.”
Jaxon lifted an eyebrow. Mason always had a woman lined up. Saturday night and he had no plans? Jaxon wasn’t buying it. More likely, he just didn’t want to share the details. “Wanna grab a beer?”
Mason shook his head. “Nah. I’m headed over to the Hilton to do some grunt work.”
“What’s going on there?”
He rolled his eyes. “Cheating husband. I have the pleasure of getting proof of his infidelity for his wife so she can screw him in the divorce.”
Jaxon winced. “Good for her, I guess.”
Swallowing the last of the beer, Mason glanced over at Jaxon. “Sure you’re good here?”
“Yeah.” Jaxon walked him to the door. “See ya next Monday.”
Mason gave a mock salute before jogging down the steps, and Jaxon shut the door with a sigh.
What was he going to do for the next day and a half?
He could wander the city a little, but the idea held little appeal.
His gaze fell to the envelopes sitting at the edge of the counter, taunting him, Adalyn’s pretty face flashing in his mind’s eye, turning his stomach to knots.
As he did every time he began to feel anxious, he pulled the poker chip from his back pocket.
He had picked it up in Vegas the day he had met Adalyn.
It had been used at a table in the Bellagio, and he kept it with him at all times.
He flipped it through his fingers, back and forth, back and forth, the familiar motion helping to soothe his nerves.
A harsh breath escaped his lungs, and he tucked it back in his pocket.
Snagging another beer from the fridge, he snatched up the stack of mail and headed to the living room.
No time like the present. If he was going to have to rehash his depressing past, he may as well be drunk for it.
Maybe it would dull the pain of regret and failure that had followed him for the past year and a half.
He chugged the remainder of the beer and cracked the top off a new one, tossing the cap on the coffee table. Sinking into the soft cushion of the couch, he settled the beer between his thighs and flicked through the envelopes, trying to stall as long as possible.
With a sinking sensation in his gut, he finally ripped open the remaining letter.
It was fairly hefty, and the pages curled from being folded in half.
He slipped them from the large mailing envelope and skimmed the front page.
His entire body stilled, his mind halting as he tried to process the words on the page.
Hands shaking, he flipped several pages to the tabbed documents, and his heart thudded to a stop, the papers fluttering to his lap.
How was this possible? This had been taken care of nearly a year ago… hadn’t it?
Unable to comprehend the words, he reread the missive twice more. He ran his fingers over the hard creases as he folded it and slipped the papers back into the envelope. Tapping it against his palm, he debated what to do. It seemed Adalyn Vale-Keller and he had some unfinished business.
Because, according to the paper in his hands… They were still married.