Page 9 of Shelter for Shay
He’d spread his wings and flew.
He’d known she wouldn’t live forever. No one did. But in his mind, she’d always been solid—unchanging. The kind of woman who’d outlive every storm and still remember to send a damn Christmas card.
The chickens were being watched back in Virginia. The guys still had two more weeks of medical leave, even if he was the only one who physically still needed it. He raised his hand toward the ceiling. His shoulder still ached, but he was kicking ass in physical therapy and he was sure he’d be cleared for duty in record time.
Outside of the fact that he loved being at The Refuge, nothing was holding him here.
Except guilt and fear of setting foot in the Adirondacks. Not of being around Margaret or her daughter. That he could handle, but he couldn’t deal with the shadows that were his childhood. The thick, quiet kind that came from knowing he was still a scared little boy who was terrified of closing his eyes at night.
But he had to go back. Not just for Margaret… but for himself… and maybe for Shay. Her letter felt like a plea of sorts.
He rubbed a hand over his face, jaw tight. His heart hammered in his chest. His old man was in prison. He’d been sent there three years ago. It wasn’t the first time his dad hadbeen sent to jail, but it was the first time he’d been convicted of a federal crime and would face more than a few years behind bars.
Moose didn’t track his parents because he cared, though he did care whether they lived or died. However, he wanted to know what was going on with them because if something were to happen, he’d want to know if only for the sole purpose of the freedom to return to Lake George. For whatever reason, there was an ache in his heart to return to his hometown. To see if the shadows that lurked in the recesses of his mind also hid in the dark corners of the streets he once called home.
However, he had no desire to run into the two people who had given him life. Call him a coldhearted man, but his mother and father hadn’t done him a single favor. They never cared about what he’d done as a kid and he doubted they gave him a passing thought as an adult.
From the second he’d boarded that bus, it was as if he were dead to them. They never tried to reach out or find him that he knew of and there were plenty of people who knew exactly what happened to him, if they’d cared to ask.
He rocked back and forth, staring out over the vast property that was The Refuge as two familiar men approached from the main building. He’d been scheduled to go for a hike with the rest of the guests, but since that letter had found him, he’d been stuck to this porch, unable to move.
“Moose.” Brick nodded as he perched his sunglasses on his head and made his way up the steps, Pipe at his side.
The Refuge had become a second home to him and his team. A place where they could come if a mission went sideways so they could chase the nightmares away and go back to their jobs whole men. They weren’t too proud to admit they needed the kind of emotional support only a place like The Refuge could offer.
“Gentlemen,” Moose said, forcing a strained smile.
Pipe leaned against the railing, resting his travel mug on the post. “We thought you were going on that hike with everyone else.”
“Something came up.” Moose shifted his gaze toward the letter and then back up at the two men he’d learned not to argue with over the last few years. They were more than the owners of The Refuge.
They’d become family.
“Is everything okay?” Brick eyed him. “You look like someone just told you the government’s outlawed beer and women.”
“Worse,” Moose said, stepping back. “I got a letter from my hometown.”
“As in New York?” Pipe raised a brow.
Moose exhaled. He’d spilled his guts over more than botched missions and nightmares about death and bloody battlefields. He’d rocked like a small child and cried during group sessions over his childhood. Over shit he’d thought he’d long gotten over, but he hadn’t really dealt with much past joining the Navy and putting that crap in his rearview.
Henley, the therapist at The Refuge, she’d been like a dentist, carefully extracting one painful memory after the other, until all that had been left were raw emotions and the desire to be a whole man.
That desire still didn’t make him great boyfriend material, but it had given him a jumping off point. It at least allowed him to make connections with humans instead of just his chickens.
“My high school counselor, Margaret Whitaker, she’s dying. Her daughter wrote me. Said… if I want to say goodbye, I’d better move fast.”
“Shit, mate. I’m sorry.” Pipe gave a short nod.
“Do you want to head back to Lake George?” Brick leaned against the railing, catching Moose’s gaze.
Moose blinked. “My first thought is always hell no. But this woman literally saved me from doing more than the stupid things kids do. If it weren’t for her, I would have wound up in a federal prison before I ever graduated.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Brick said. “Maybe it’s time you go. Your old man is in prison. Do you know what’s going on with your mom?”
“She’s still living in the same old run-down apartment in the village. Still tending bar. Still selling her body when she’s not in county lockup for something,” Moose said. “She’s actually been a little better about not doing the latter since my dad got arrested, but she’s still an addict.”
Andy Harmon, a local state trooper and son of a local state trooper, kept tabs on Mandy Rhoades for Moose. It was strange, because back in the day, Andy and Moose couldn’t stand each other. Andy was the kind of kid who didn’t dare do anything that would get him in trouble. Of course, his old man was a cop. His grandfather was a retired Marine. If Andy sneezed, the whole flipping town not only knew about it, but they handed him a gold-plated tissue.
