first couple of deployments. Without the pressures of home—of McHuid’s, Cain’s broken family, and Woodman’s affluent one—Cain would surely show Woodman a different side. A less angry one. A more responsible one. Because he was fairly certain a more unhappy, less responsible Cain was impossible, and Woodman yearned for closeness with his only cousin.
Frankly Woodman didn’t know what had stood between them over the past three years, but he felt strongly that an unspoken wedge separated them from true familial intimacy. It could have been a million things: the differences in their families’ prosperity, Cain’s parents’ divorce, or the fact—as Woodman suspected—that Cain had some notions about Woodman being closer to his father, Klaus.
Or maybe it was the fact that they’d grown into vastly different men: Cain fucked everything in sight, loved his motorcycle the way Woodman loved horses, and got drunk down by the distillery every weekend, while Woodman spent his time studying, working at McHuid’s, and spending his weekends in church.
They were as different as night from day, yes, but they were still cousins, and their increasing distance from each other bothered Woodman mightily. Whatever it was that had lodged so squarely between them, Woodman was ready, even anxious, for it to be eliminated. And he dearly hoped that embarking on this adventure together would give them a chance to renew the close bond they’d enjoyed as children.
Rounding the meadow, Woodman looked down at the barn at the bottom of the hill and was surprised to see two people sitting up in the doorway of the hayloft. He squinted from fifty yards away, and his heart lifted when he realized that it was Cain and Ginger. Maybe Cain had stopped by to catch her one more time before they shipped out tomorrow, since they’d be missing her birthday next week. Cupping his hands over his mouth to call to them, he stopped when he saw Cain reach for Ginger’s face. She leaned toward him, closer and closer, tilting her head to the side until, until—
Woodman gasped, and the words of greeting got lodged in the terrible, instant lump in his throat, his hands falling listlessly by his side as he watched his cousin kiss Ginger, as he watched his indiscriminate lothario of a cousin pollute the pristine pink lips that Woodman had been planning to kiss for the very first time tonight when he bid her good-bye.
As he gasped, a soft, strangled sound of pain slipped from his lips, his eyes burning as he watched Cain wind his fingers through Ginger’s blonde hair and pull her closer. There was no chasteness in this kiss, no brotherly farewell from an old friend. Their bodies were flush against each other, Ginger’s breasts flattened against Cain’s chest as she arched her back in a wanton way that made Woodman’s fists curl in protest.
He didn’t blame Ginger. Though he suspected she knew how he felt about her, his feelings were, as yet, undeclared. But Cain. Fucking Cain. Ginger was his girl, his love, his future, and Cain knew it. But per usual, Cain was thinking with his dick. He didn’t give a shit that he was sliding a knife between his cousin’s shoulder blades. He likely didn’t give a fuck that a kiss like that was a sort of promise to a nice girl like Ginger (and Woodman was positive that Cain had zero honorable intentions toward her). He clenched his teeth together, his whole body rigid with fury and heartache because he was certain that all Cain thought of, as always, was his own pleasure, without a shred of regard for anyone else’s feelings or anyone else’s heart.
Between the bitter sting of his cousin’s betrayal and the terrible ache of watching Ginger kiss his cousin, Woodman could barely breathe, and he bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. When he looked up again a moment later, their positions had changed drastically. Now Cain was standing up with his hands on hips, his expression troubled, his body angled for retreat. Ginger, on the other hand, still sat with her legs dangling over the hayloft opening, and Woodman couldn’t read her expression since she looked away from him, up at Cain, but she worried her hands in her lap.
They exchanged a couple of words that Woodman couldn’t hear from where he stood, then Cain disappeared into the darkness of the barn, only to reappear a moment later downstairs. Without looking back up at Ginger even once,