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24

Sage

Seatedatasmalltable on barstools covered in cracked red vinyl, we drank cold beers from mismatched glasses. No two were the same at Joey’s, Brandon had told me.

“Tell me again why you brought me to this place?” I asked while giving the busy room an assessing scan.

The walls were an inch thick with peeling band posters. A dozen different dimly lit lampshades hung from the ceiling, and the black-and-white checkerboard floor was sticky underfoot. On a TV above the bar, the undercard for a major UFC fight aired live. The main event had the place filling fast with an energized crowd.

“Joey’s is a Philly institution. I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.” Brandon took a sip of beer.

“Not my side of town, I guess. There’s something about this place though, right?”

He nodded while glancing around the bar.

A cheer went up, and when I checked the TV, one fighter had the other pinned to the floor of the octagon. He pummeled the guy with a series of punches and elbows to the head.Ouch. The bout was called seconds later, and an even bigger commotion took up all around us.

I pointed at the ceiling, which was covered in rusted and damaged license plates. “What’s with those?”

Brandon glanced up. “Supposedly, they’re all stolen. If you add to the collection, you get a free shot of bottom-shelf whiskey.”

“Tempting,” I mocked and drummed my fingers across the glass.

“And rumor has it the broken jukebox has been playing AC/DC’sBack in Blackalbum on repeat since 1982.”

I laughed. “Great record, but it explains why the staff is kind of cranky.”

“It’s all part of the charm.” Bracing his forearms on the tall table, Brandon glanced toward the worn-out pool table at the front of the bar. “Reminds me of a place back home where I’d go drinking with the guys before deploying.”

“Afghanistan?”

“Mostly.”

“What was it like over there?”

He considered my question before answering. “Don’t think I slept a wink the night before my first patrol, but taught myself to sleep just about anywhere pretty quickly. Made lifelong friends, lost some, grew a real beard, and learned how vile humans can be.” He sipped his beer. “I remember the day I flew home from my first deployment, watching the new troops arriving on the tarmac. They looked like fresh-faced boys. I felt like an old man. That’s what a nine-month tour in Afghanistan will do to you.”

“And yet you kept going back?”

He nodded. “It was a career I’d committed to, and I was good at it. And I wouldn’t let my team risk their lives without me. You wouldn’t give up on criminology just because it got messy, would you?”

I shook my head. God, I respected him for that. What he’d gone through over there was a horror I couldn’t imagine. And yet he was so…normal. I imagined he was as cheerful and witty today as he was before going to war. And I…I was nothing like I used to be. I wasn’t sure pre-drive-by Sage was ever coming back.

“You lost teammates over there?” I asked.

“Yeah. Some who were like brothers to me.” He stared into his beer. “Each of their deaths weighs heavily.”

My chest tightened. “You seem so…well-adjusted. How do you cope?”

Brandon’s eyes met mine. “Honestly? Some days, I don’t. A few of us get together once or twice a year. We drink beer, shoot the shit, and tell stupid stories to remember them. Nothing can bring them back, but it helps.”

I fought the rising knot in my throat and shot Brandon a wry smile. “This is some pretty morbid first-date conversation. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” My muscles tensed. “You don’t, do you?”

That would be awkward. Even worse, I was horrified to realize I’d be crushed if he did. And majorly pissed that he’d neglected to mention it.

This was crazy. I was jealous of a probably nonexistent girlfriend.

“Much to my mom’s dismay, I’ve been unattached for some time. But I’m glad you’re interested enough to ask.” He winked while sending me a mischievous grin.


Tags: Julie Weaver Team Zulu Romance