She was usually the most put together of all of us Haven girls, but even she was looking a little unkempt today. Probably nothing that could be discerned by passersby, but something I picked up on immediately.
“Well, we definitely weren’t in Nash’s bed, which is clearly where you came from,” I said.
Rory rolled her eyes and pulled out the chair next to Avery before taking a seat. “I’m in this state because I need to speak to you immediately and didn’t think you’d appreciate me takin’ time to freshen up.”
That feeling in the pit of my stomach grew, the handful of butterflies that had come to life from Avery’s explanation transforming into a swarm of bees being swept up by a tornado. Without conscious thought, I reached under the table andgripped Will’s knee, needing something—anything—to anchor me.
“Edna must have some good gossip today,” I forced out through my dry throat.
“Every day, which you know better than anyone,” Rory said. That was true…Havenbrook’s mail carrier and I were two peas in a pod, despite our more than forty-year age difference. “But I’m gonna need you to shut up for a second, honey, andlisten to me.” She punctuated the last three words with slaps of her hand against the table.
“Calm down, Rory,” Will said. “I’m sure Edna will fill Mac in later today. You didn’t need to make a trip out here, especially if you and Nash were having your special, grown-up time.”
Rory raised a brow. “We’ll see if you think the same thing when you find out just who arrived in Havenbrook this morning…”
CHAPTER TWO
HUDSON
The last timeI awoke to the smell of my momma’s cooking, I’d been nineteen years old and had no idea what it truly meant to be homesick. I knew now. Had felt it down to my very bones over the past ten-plus years. Felt it every time I lay on a bunk in a third world country, dreaming of Mississippi summers and my momma’s peach pie.
I hadn’t been home in too damn long, so all I’d had to keep me company were my memories. My goals in the army had had me on a strict schedule—obtaining my degree by the time I pinned on sergeant so I could put in my OCS packet and work toward the ultimate goal of earning my captain’s bar. That meant little to no downtime.
Because of that, once a year, I’d flown my momma and sister, Lilah, to wherever I was stationed at the time. They got to see the world, I got to see them, and all was right.
Except…
Except for the piece of my heart I’d left in Havenbrook. The piece that had never been the same since the day I’d left.
I stretched, rubbing a hand over the dull ache in my chest, my feet hanging off the end of my childhood bed. At 6’4” and a hell of a lot bulkier than I’d been the last time I’d lain in this bed,I didn’t exactly fit on the twin mattress. Didn’t matter. I hadn’t slept on anything as comfortable as this for nine long months.
After donning a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt and making a pit stop in the bathroom, I descended the steps and followed the scent of French toast. Cinnamon roll French toast—my favorite—if my nose was to be trusted.
I was absolutely fucking famished. I hadn’t eaten much more than a bag of peanuts since midafternoon yesterday. After taking the red-eye from Seattle to Memphis, my copilot, CW2 Caleb Bridges, and I rented a car and drove the hour and a half to Havenbrook. Got in just in time to intercept my sister arriving at The Sweet Spot to start the day’s morning prep.
I’d set Caleb up in the guest room, not bothering to do anything but point and grunt toward the unused space, and fell straight into my bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a solid six hours of sleep.
“’Bout time you joined us, sleepyhead,” my momma said over her shoulder as she stood in front of the stove. And, yep, cinnamon roll French toast sizzled on the griddle in front of her, along with a pan of scrambled eggs.
I glanced around, lifting my chin in greeting to Caleb, who sat at the round table, already dressed for the day. He’d obviously showered, though he’d forgone the razor—something we both favored during our time off—a layer of black scruff covering his brown skin.
He lifted a coffee cup in my direction, his eyes clear of fatigue. Looked like the solid six had done him some good, too.
“Hey, Momma.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders from behind and squeezed her tight.
Her dark hair, pulled up into a ponytail, was streaked with tiny slivers of gray, and I was sure those hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head,breathing in the scent that would always remind me of my childhood.
She exhaled a long, low breath and reached up to grip my forearm, her relief at my presence clear in the way her fingers dug into my skin. The way she sagged back into me.
Even though she supported me, sent me care package after care package, and was there to talk to me any time of the day or night I was able to call, she hated that I’d chosen this life. Chosen to devote myself to the army and my country. Especially since her husband had done the same.
But he hadn’t made it back.
Jack Miller had died in combat when I was only ten, and he was a ghost my momma had lived with for almost twenty years. A ghost I had tried to live up to for just as long.
“You makin’ my favorite?” I asked as I gave her another squeeze before letting my arms drop. I needed coffee.Goodcoffee, not the shit I got in Afghanistan.
Momma hummed in agreement. “My baby’s home for the first time in too long, so he’s gettin’ the five-star treatment.”
