The truck rumbled steadily beneath him. Dylan McQueeney had surprised him with a small, hand-painted picture of the firsttruck he ever owned. Caleb smiled faintly at the thought. He missed Dylan and Ethan McQueeney—hell, all the McQueeney brothers—even Adam Sadler over at the sheriff’s department. All good men he’d grown up with. Men who understood loyalty, hard work and what it meant to fight for something worth keeping.
Now these men had women waiting for them at home—Jane, Savannah, Emily. Women who’d been through hell and came out stronger. Jane, chasing down the truth; Savannah, who’d risked everything for love, and Emily, who stood her ground when the town turned against her. Each of them showed courage in the face of fear. Each had someone who refused to let them fall.
He was happy for them. Proud of the small town that always rallied behind its own. But sometimes that happiness opened a wound he didn’t talk about.
He’d lost a lot over the years—friends, trust and one partner he couldn’t think about without his throat tightening. Titan had been more than a K-9. He’d been his shadow, his anchor, a steady presence when everything else went to hell. Losing him had gutted Caleb in a way nothing else ever had.
He wasn’t looking to fill a void. He didn’t want another partner, another team, another anything. Just work. Something solid. Something that didn’t die on him.
Uncle Ezra had offered him a job once, said the coroner’s office could use another steady hand. Caleb had turned him down. He’d had his fill of death. Heck, even his dad offered to make him a partner in the family construction company. But he needed a fresh start, and that’s what Haywood Lake and the Brotherhood Alliance offered him.
The Brotherhood kept ties with KnightGuard Security out of Black Pointe. Chase had ex-SEAL friends who worked there. Liam mentioned once that his sister-in-law, Grace Winslow-McBride—Jane’s half-sister—had married his brother Luke, whoworked there. Small world. The kind that reminded him that everyone else seemed to have found where they belonged.
Beaver Creek would always be home, but it held too many memories. Haywood Lake gave him room to breathe. Not to start over but just to keep going.
By the time he hit the interstate, the reds and golds of Vermont were shrinking in the rearview. Russet hills gave way to an endless highway, wide bridges spanning slow rivers, miles of farmland and forest broken up by large and small cities, and the occasional billboard promising the world’s best barbecue or a clean restroom that never lived up to the sign. He cracked a window and let the cool air circulate in the truck while a country song about trains, women and heartache played low in the background. With every mile, the pressure eased. Down south, no one cared who he was or what he’d done before. Just what he was doing now.
Lunch had come and gone. The sandwich he’d devoured was just a memory. Caleb figured he’d drive another couple of hours and find a place to stay for the night. He could have driven straight through, but for what? To be utterly exhausted and good for nothing for a couple of days. No woman was waiting for him, and no one expected him back until Monday, so he had four days to get there.
Late afternoon, he pulled off the highway outside Philadelphia and found a small mom-and-pop motel tucked along a side road. The kind of place with flickering neon and flowered curtains that hadn’t changed since the seventies. The kind that felt frozen in time but still honest, still standing. A dinosaur, for sure.
He walked into reception. The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and old coffee. An older woman sat behind the counter, gray hair pinned up and smiled.
“Long drive?” she asked.
“Feels like it,” he replied, sliding his ID across the counter.
“Where you headed?”
“Florida,” he said. “Any chance there’s a place to eat around here?”
She chuckled, handing him an actual metal key. “Diner’s a couple miles up the road. Food’s good. Pie’s better. Tell ’em Doris sent you.”
He settled into the room, throwing his duffel onto one of the beds. The room was small but clean. No modern appliances here, just two beds, a chair and a lamp, a dresser and a big old TV perched on top of it. Caleb splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and stared at himself in the mirror. Same eyes. Same lines around them. Different man. He shook it off, grabbed his keys and headed out into the fading light.
Ten minutes later, the diner was exactly what he expected. A real dining car, straight from the 1940s, with chrome trim, cracked vinyl booths and a bell over the door that jingled when he walked in. No heads turned. No whispers. Perfect. He took a seat at the counter, ordered a burger and coffee, then sipped the bitter coffee and let the quiet chatter around him fade into background noise.
The waitress, maybe mid-thirties, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, cute in a tired, been-on-her-feet-all-day kind of way, gave him the come-on eye more than once. He couldn’t help but notice how the front of her uniform gaped just enough to make the effort obvious when she leaned in to refill his cup. Caleb smiled politely, but that was all. She wasn’t his type, although he wasn’t sure what his type was anymore. Either way, he wasn’t looking.
It was easier that way. Keep moving. Keep it simple. No roots. No risks.
Tomorrow he’d be back on the road.
South.
Home—or the closest thing he had to it.
When he finally pulled intothe Brotherhood campus, the Florida air hit him like a wall—thick, damp, familiar. The afternoon was bright and the sky a wide, endless blue. Even after the short time he’d been away, he noticed the difference. The sun here burned hotter, and the light was sharper, more golden. Like everything in Florida, it didn’t ease you in; it just came at you full force—heat and color and life all at once.
He drove down the gravel path to his cabin beyond the main building, waving to Zach Rodgers, who lived nearby. Whoever designed the one-bedroom cabins knew what they were doing. Chase had told him once that Mark Stone, an ex-SEAL, now construction owner and fiancé of Sam Knight from KnightGuard Security in Black Pointe, had built them. Each one came with all the bells and whistles: a porch that looked out toward the woods, a modern kitchen, fully furnished down to the dishes and sheets.
Caleb parked in front of his cabin and climbed out, stretching stiff muscles. The air buzzed with insects and smelled faintly of pine and damp earth. He was far enough away from the other cabins clustered near the main building to feel secluded yet close to the Paws for Caring building where the Brotherhood was based.
He dropped his duffel inside the door and stood for a moment, letting the peacefulness of the woods surround him. It should’ve felt like coming home, but mostly it just felt quiet.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, joined by a couple of others. Melissa Doherty, the Paws for Caring director, would be training new therapy dogs again. Caleb listened for a moment longer, his jaw tightening before he turned away.
He’d had a partner once. Four legs, loyal, better instincts than most men he knew. Losing that dog had been like losing a piece of himself. Hearing those barks brought it all back. He rubbed the back of his neck, willing the ache to fade.
