Page 6 of Almost Home
“Will do,” I said, knowing I’d talk to him more than anyone else in the coming months. Years.
I shook more hands, returned a few more hugs, and then I left. The huge metal gates, topped with barbwire and foreboding, inched back to reveal the pine-lined road ahead. I nodded at the gate guards who flicked their fingers at me, knowing me well since they’d been here nearly as long as I had.
I’d had months to say my goodbyes, and I had used the time. I’d gone out to dinners and nights at the bar. I’d been given awards and recognition and, of course, I’d get my bonus once my terminal leave ran out in a few months. That was maybe the weirdest part—I would still technically be on active duty another three months, but I had enough leave saved up that I could move now, keep getting paid my active salary and housing allowance and already be gone.
Gone.
Not dead. Not depressed or damaged. Just… retiring. At thirty-seven.
But I was losing something. At some point in the twenty years of my career, part of my soul had crumbled into dust. Maybe it’d been the work itself, or maybe it’d been the way I’d lived—or, as my mother had once accused,survived.
The psychs had given me their briefings, and I’d promised to see someone when I got settled—not just because I was retiring, but because I’d put off dealing with a few things and it was time.
The time had come for me to pay the debts I owed myself, my family, and my community.
The drive to Silverton would take about thirty hours. As long as there weren’t any bad spring storms, I’d make it through Wyoming and into Utah’s mountains in about three days. I could try for two, but the brash insistence on doing everything in the most direct, flashy way had long since worn off for me. I might only be thirty-six—fine, nearly thirty-seven—but my soul felt old. Tired.
Or maybe I should say itwasold, if trauma and grief could prematurely age a person’s soul. I’d lost my father at six. I’d lost my child at seventeen, and then the love of my life days later. I’d lost my first friend at twenty-two, and a host of other friends and team mates since. In many ways, I’d even lost my brothers and mom, though that’d been due to my own stupidity.
Miles passed. I stayed the night in the same chain hotels I always had when I traveled—not crappy roadside motels like one might think. Somewhere along the line, EMU operators had demanded quality when they traveled inside the US, and ever since, any travel meant an upscale name brand with comfortable rooms and free breakfast. I had enough points to travel for months at this point. Maybe my mom would want to go to Hawaii or something. Or Warrick could, not that he needed the help.
Did she even want to travel? Did he?
As though the thought had summoned him, my phone flashed with Warrick’s name. In the past, I might’ve ignored it, shoved away the chance to connect with him. Not anymore. I couldn’t keep doing that to him or myself.
“What’s up?”
“Just checking in to see how the driving’s going. You passed the glories of the Kansas prairie yet?”
A glance showed the Denver airport to my right “Just hit Denver.”
“Nice. Making good progress. You pushing through?”
It was only ten in the morning. I’d have at least eight hours of solid daylight left, and the forecasts had been good. “Planning on it, unless I get hung up somewhere.”
“Good. Cool. And are you staying… at the ranch?”
He sounded tentative. Treading lightly like he was EOD, and I was a bomb that might go off at any point. I wasn’t volatile like that, and he knew it, but in my own way, I supposed I was the opposite. I didn’t explode, I imploded. I sank into myself, into my head, and I disappeared. I hated this, him tiptoeing into his questions like any sudden move would spook me and send me back into silence.
But could I blame him?
I’d spent the last two decades keeping everyone I’d grown up loving at a distance. I’d seen him a handful of times, called him only before longer deployments, and had given him so little. I’d pushed him away without realizing, when he’d been just a kid and I’d just lost mine, and we’d never reconnected. Truth,I’dnever reconnected. He had every reason to be wary of me.
“I lined up a place to rent for the first few months while I get settled.”
A pause, then “Cool. Great. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
It dawned on me he had a few rentals and maybe more since last we spoke. Maybe I should’ve used one of his, but I’d assumed they’d all be rented.
Actually, no. I’d trained myself not to rely on anyone but my team, so it hadn’t occurred to me to call and ask him for his advice. I’d need to develop that skill—had to. I couldn’t keep shutting him or Wyatt or my mom out once I moved back. I didn’t want to, but hell if I knew how to do anything else.
“Will do.”
“Good. And, uh, we still do family dinner on Sunday nights if there are no other conflicts. I think we’ll be on for this weekend. If you want to join us. I’m sure Mom would be over the moon, and I’d like for you to meet Sadie.”
“Sounds good.”
I could practically hear his smile, that sunny personality and naturally grinning face giving him away.
