Grey Skies - A Military Romance (Complete)

Grey Skies: Chapter 28

Max shuffled his camp chair closer to the fire. While his face flamed with heat, icicles were forming on his earlobes and even with two layers of shirts, his skin on his back prickled. Worse, since the sun sank, white flakes swirled in the chilly gusts of wind.

Between the sour taste in his mouth from watching Finn and Simon kiss their wives goodbye when he couldn't even hug Sophie and the knowing surety he was a pity invite to this brother bonding trip, Max had had little to say. Either did the brothers apparently and as such the ride up here, the setup of camp and the meal they'd cooked all conspired in a relative cone of silence.

After they'd eaten, Simon insisted they do a round of shots to warm themselves up. After two more rounds, the scotch was replaced with bottles of beer while Finn and Simon covered the roster of NHL teams and their prospects at winning the Stanley Cup in the spring.

"The Leafs have a real chance this year." Simon insisted.

Finn grunted, and Max took a long drag. Even though he grew up in a small town where there wasn't much to do on a Saturday night except go to a friend's house to watch a game as an excuse to steal alcohol from their parent's, Max wasn't a big hockey fan. Baseball had been his thing since he first held a bat.

"This guy wouldn't shut up about them as a kid." Simon swung the end of his beer bottle in Finn's direction. "Don't tell me you've given up on your team."

Max knew Finn hadn't. In their downtime, on board a ship or back at base, Finn watched recorded games when he couldn't catch them live, avoiding the scores. One of the few ways Max could tease Finn was by pretending to know the outcomes already, aggravating Finn to no end.

"I'm not a kid." Finn's complaint came out slow and exaggerated. Despite the cold, the alcohol must be hitting his friend too. The flames of the fire lapped a little slower, and the world looked a little fuzzy around the edges.

"No. You're about to have one instead." Simon chuckled until he caught the grimace on Finn's face. Simon took another sip. "Always pensive as a kid, too," he muttered.

"Does Buffalo have a baseball team?" Max knew they didn't, but needed to divert this conversation to a safety zone.

Simon's face pinched as if he'd eaten a lemon. "The Buffalo Bisons. But they're a minor league team."

"I have a lot going on." Finn spat the words across the fire at his brother.

Simon stuck his tongue out, catching a snowflake. "Could've fooled me."

"What would you know about it?"

Max cracked his neck, trying to relieve the pressure gathering there. "We painted the baby's room yesterday."

As if Max didn't exist, Simon continued his attack. "I hear you spend hours in your study."

Like a commanding officer had just entered the room, Finn sat up straight. "Let me guess, your nosey, know-it-all wife told you."

Simon matched his brother's stance. "At least I talk to my wife."

"Can you even get a word in edge wise?"

"Who wants another beer?" Max stood, the world tilting on its axis.

"Me." Both brothers shouted at the same time.

A temporary calm settled over the trio as Max stumbled to the cooler packed with beer and ice. His fingers screamed as they plunged into the chilled water and retrieved 3 bottles. Shoving them into the crook of his arm, he picked his way back to the fire and handed each brother a beer. A chorus of fizzes broke the silence as each man twisted off the bottlecap.