Courageous, brave, strong sons.
His eldest, Grant, may have been forced to appear less than honorable, less than courageous for a while, but he had done it to protect his own sons, and the sacrifices he had made were no less than Riordan Sr. would make himself.
His youngest son, however, the one his wee Erin had called her mini-Rory, he was the one Riordan was perhaps the most proud of.
“Jordan.” A smile tugged at Riordan’s lips. His son always approached him as though he were never certain of his reception. As though he were unaware of the power of a father’s love.
He watched as Jordan moved across the small cemetery, his long-legged, powerful form tall and strong as he walked up to his mother’s grave.
Riordan watched as Jordan touched the top of the stone lightly as he had done for so many years. In the gesture, Riordan saw things, sensed things he knew his son would never be comfortable with him knowing.
He saw a son’s regret, a man’s aching loneliness, but even harder to observe was the flash of weariness. Jordan was growing tired, and that was dangerous for a warrior.
“I miss her.” Riordan patted the stone gently as he turned his gaze from his son and stared at the marble instead.
She was his talisman, his Erin. She had been his boyhood dream, his teenage love, and finally, she had become his wife. The mother of his sons, the foundation of his soul. She’d made him swear to linger on this earth without her to see to the happiness and safety of her boys. And he’d done as she asked. He had pushed himself through each day with only that purpose in mind.
This son, ahh, but this one, he tested an old man’s strength.
He looked toward Jordan’s truck before bringing his gaze back to his son. “You’ve not brought young Tehya with you, then?” he asked.
Jordan’s jaw tightened as it always did whenever Riordan asked about the girl. As though Jordan somehow thought that if he didn’t speak of her, then he wouldn’t feel for her.
Riordan almost chuckled at the thought, but he doubted his son would appreciate it. Jordan rarely saw any amusement in his denial of the feelings he refused to show.
“She’s packing.” There was a snap to Jordan’s voice that had Riordan’s brows lifting in surprise.
He nodded. “You told me last month she would be.”
He was saddened to see that team coming to an end. They had given Jordan purpose, Riordan had often thought. And their leaving meant young Tehya would be going, as well, and that, he feared, might be the breaking point for Jordan. Without her, he feared his son would become that cold, unfeeling shadow he so seemed to want to become.
“I have a few things I have to do after everyone’s off base,” Jordan all but growled. “Do you need anything before I leave?”
Riordan shook his head. “Noah and Sabella, they take care of things.” He nodded toward the house. “Those children of theirs may give me gray hair, but I’ll be fine. I was just about to bring the groceries inside though.”
He had to grin as he thought of the miniature Nathan, or rather Noah as he was known now. Noah and Sabella’s eldest son was already the image of his da, though he had enough of his mother’s features to hide the fact he was one hundred percent Malone. Noah Blake, unknown to the world, had been Nathan Malone, Navy Seal, husband, son, grandson. Now, he was Noah Blake, husband to the wife Nathan Malone possessed before his “death.”
“I’ll get them,” Jordan said, before glancing down at the tombstone once more.
Ah, the boy had more than groceries on his mind.
Disappointment lanced him, though, as rather than speaking Jordan turned and walked toward the truck.
Watching, Riordan sighed as his son collected several bags and headed to the small cabin beyond.
“Such stubbornness, Erin,” he sighed. “He takes that after you, lass. I was never such a hardheaded man.”
He knew that if she were still standing by his side, she would be rolling her eyes in amused disbelief.
That had been his Erin.
“Ah, lass, when will he see?” he asked her softly. “Irish Eyes, he has them. He’ll never be free from her now.”
Only since the redhead had arrived at the Elite Ops base had Jordan gotten that bright sapphire color to his eyes. Irish Eyes.
They revealed more than his son would have preferred. And Miss Tehya … well, she was the cause right enough. Riordan knew his boys, and he knew their hearts. Just as he knew Jordan’s heart belonged only to that young lass.
Jordan could pretend he cared nothing for that young woman till hell froze over, but he couldn’t fool his father. He was suffering from his stubbornness and his denial. And the suffering wouldn’t ease, it would only grow worse until Jordan accepted it.