Page 13 of The Way Back Home

“Oh, Mr. Mayor.” She blushes right to the roots of her hair.

“It’s for the best, dear,” the man says, patting my hand as if in commiseration. “Mr. Cotton, well, he’s part of the reason I wanted you to come, but given his accident, I’m not sure Tanglewood is the best place for you, and we’d hate for anything to happen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s just that he’s a somewhat volatile member of the community and—”

“I heard he was dishonorably discharged for gunning a man down in Iraq,” Alice says.

“He was in Afghanistan.” I shake my head impatiently. “He has a purple heart.”

“Oh God,” Alice places a hand against her chest. “Is it serious?”

“He wasn’t dishonorably discharged; he was discharged because he lost a leg in an IED explosion. That’s why he has a purple heart.”

“He lost his leg and has a heart condition?” Georgia asks.

“August is just fine,” I snap, done with this whole damn town. While what the mayor said about August being volatile may be true, this kind of prejudice and stupidity is why a lot of veterans feel ostracized from the community. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Mayor, but Mr. Cotton has been nothing but hospitable toward me since I arrived. I wish I could say the same for everyone else. Perhaps you just haven’t gotten to know him well enough.”Oh God, I am going to hell for being the world’s biggest liar.

The mayor chuckles. “Perhaps you’re right, but he don’t do a lot to try to fit in or make it easy for people to accept him.”

“Forgive me, but he fought for our country. He fought for the freedom that this town enjoys today, so I don’t feel he should have to do anything to make people comfortable,” I bite out each word as if it were poison in my mouth. Mayor Winkler shakes his head, his jowls wobbling like a turkey’s wattle, and he seems to be looking over my head as I speak, which is just plain rude. “In fact, I’d say August Cotton has done more than enough to make you people ‘comfortable.’ Enjoy your celebration, Mr. Mayor.”

I turn on my heels and smack right into a solid wall of muscle. I guess I know now why Mayor Winkler was shaking his head at me as if he might pry something loose. “Shit.”

August’s hands grip my shoulders to stop me from falling. “Nice speech.”

“Shut up, Cotton.” I wrench free from his grasp and stalk around him on my way to the parking lot.

A beat later, he follows, and when I reach the passenger side of August’s truck, Bett hangs her head out the window and squeals. “Wivvie.”

“Hey, sugar bean.” I give her a bright smile. I know her brother is standing right behind me, and I know my little outburst back there is going to cost me something, but Bettina doesn’t need to get caught up in the middle.

He leans an arm against the top of the door so I can’t open it. “You know you didn’t have to defend me, back there.”

“Well, they didn’t have to be such assholes about it,” I say, and then balk when Bett giggles.

“You swored.”

“Yeah, I swored. Now scooch over, missy.”

“Thank you,” he whispers and walks around to his side of the truck.

“You’re welcome,” I reply with a grin, and I open my door and climb in alongside the most adorable four-year-old in the entire world. I suppose both Cottons have their charm. Yep, one big charismatic family.

Hell, and damnation.

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