Page 1 of Harmony Island Gazette
PROLOGUE
Boone
“Ladies and Gentleman, I would like to welcome you to Richmond International airport. The local time is now 6:35. We’re coming into gate B7. If you have a connecting flight, please check the monitors. If this is your final destination, welcome home.”
My entire body tensed at the last few words before the stewardess went into the credit card speech she’d given earlier in the flight.
Home.
That word was like a dagger to my heart.
I pulled my hat further down as I stared out the window, watching the plane taxi its way to the gate. My stomach knotted the closer we got. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be discharged.
When my commanding officer walked into the doctor’s office after she diagnosed me with permanent hearing loss in my left ear, I’d wanted to bolt from the room. The military was my home. That was where I was meant to be. Returning to civilian life wasn’t in the cards for me.
Mom was gone. I had no other family. The guys I served with were my people. I wasn’t supposed to ever leave.
But here I was, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. The only remnants of my military service were the dog tags around my neck and the green bag I’d shoved all my items into before I walked away from the only family I had left.
Here, I was alone. And I hated being alone.
I waited until the plane was empty before I grabbed my backpack from under the seat in front of me, used the headrest to pull my body to standing, and shuffled into the aisle.
The two stewardesses who had worked the flight watched me as I passed by. I pulled my hat further down on my head as I nodded at them.
“Thank you for your service,” one said.
My entire body stiffened at her words. I glanced over my shoulder and met her gaze before I just nodded and left.
She didn’t know what she was saying. I joined the service to redeem myself. I’d failed to save my mother’s life, and I’d vowed that I was never going to make that mistake again.
Now, I didn’t know what I was going to do.
I walked through the airport at a brisk pace. I didn’t want any more civilians thanking me for my service. Plus, being around this many people made me anxious. By the time I got to the luggage carousel, I breathed a sigh of relief. The suitcases and bags were already out and circling around.
I found my green bag, grabbed the handle, and swung it up onto my shoulder. I saw an older man wearing a Vietnam vet hat. He nodded in my direction, and I returned the gesture but didn’t stop to speak to him. Instead, I just ducked my head and hurried away.
As I walked to the sliding doors, I grabbed out my phone and opened the rideshare app I’d downloaded last time we were stateside and we’d wound up barhopping. I was grateful for it now as I scanned through the cars that were parked and ready.
I selected the simplest one I could find and reserved it as I walked out onto the sidewalk. It didn’t take me long to find the white Toyota Corolla. I knocked on the trunk and it opened. I dumped my bag into the back before slamming the trunk closed and pulling open the left rear door.
“Good evening,” The driver said from over his shoulder. The man looked old enough to be my father.
I just nodded.
“Where are we going tonight?”
“To get my truck.” The Ford F-250 had been a gift from my uncle, my mom told me. I never knew if that was true or not. I’d never met the man. But I loved the truck. It was the only sentimental piece I kept stateside for when I was on leave.
The man nodded and took off through the throng of cars and people. I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes. I wanted to nap—I was exhausted—but I couldn’t.
Not when I knew where I was headed after getting my truck.
It had been a long time since I’d come back to Harmony Island, North Carolina. I’d written off the place a long time ago. Once Mom was in the ground, I left and never looked back. Her house, her things. They sat untouched. Now, the city of Harmony was forcing my hand. I needed to decide what I was going to do with the house or they were going to make the decision for me.
As soon as I got to my truck, I’d fill the tank with gas and take off down the highway to North Carolina whether I wanted to or not.
It was a thirty-minute drive from the airport to the storage facility where I’d left my truck. I paid the driver and opened the door, not wanting to engage in niceties. I moved to tap the trunk, but the driver beat me to it. The trunk swung open, and I reached in to grab my bag. I swung it up onto my shoulder, slammed the truck closed, and headed inside to the lobby.
