If Mom was cooking breakfast, I’d lost a sizable chunk of time.
Easing out of the bed, I stood, confounded at how sore and stiff my body was. It felt like I’d been running drills and sleeping in the field, but that couldn’t be the case. Still, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember anything past climbing into the Uber at the airport.
Another loud bang came from the kitchen.
Mom could be as silent as a special forces operative when she wanted to, so the current volume of her racket meant she wanted my ass up. Hoping I hadn’t done something stupid to piss her off yesterday, I hobbled out to the kitchen to find her standing at the stove with a spatula in hand.
“Mornin’,” she said, gesturing me forward.
I went in for a hug, returning her greeting.
When she pulled back and looked me over, her eyes were glassy. “You’re really here.”
“In the flesh.”
“How long are they letting you stay this time?”
I raked a hand through my hair and looked away. “I’m done with the Army. Medical discharge.” When I glanced back to see how she was taking this little slice of unexpected news, shock registered across her features.
She stared at me for an uncomfortable moment before jerking her chin toward the counter. “There’s coffee in the pot. I’m almost finished with breakfast. Why don’t you take a seat?”
I selected the biggest cup I could find, filled it to the brim, and sat where I always had.
Mom brought our plates and joined me at the table. “So, you’re home for good?”
I grabbed my fork. “No. I’m shipping out on the twenty-second.”
“But not with the Army.”
“I joined a Doctors Without Borders team.” Shrugging my shoulders, I added, “I needed to feel useful. I’ll be heading to Africa.”
“The twenty-second?” She frowned. “You’re not even staying for Christmas?”
“I can’t.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. The sorrow in her eyes made me feel like a real piece of shit, but spending holidays in this tomb was out of the question.
“I see.”
Mom pushed food around on her plate as I greedily gobbled down my breakfast. She was upset, and I should probably stop shoveling bacon and talk to her, but her cooking was one of the few things I’d missed about being home. Besides, I was leaving. Arrangements had already been made, and nothing could convince me to stay, so there was no point in talking about it.
She stood and carried her barely touched plate to the sink. “I need to get going.”
That was when I realized she was dressed in slacks and a sweater, her hair styled and makeup on, even though it was still dark outside the kitchen window.
“What time is it?” I asked between bites.
“Almost six-thirty.”
“A little early for an appointment, isn’t it?”
“I’m working today.”
Having finished eating, I lowered my fork and took a sip of coffee. “You got a job?”
“Yep. At the preschool down the street.”
“Why? Do you need money? Is everything okay?”
Indignation flickered in her eyes. “My finances are my business. I’m the mom, Landon. But no, the decision was not financial. I needed a purpose. A reason to get up and get dressed every morning. I love what I do.” Her eyes narrowed. “I only hope I’m still employed there after what you said to my boss yesterday.”
