“Didn’t sleep well.” I keep walking. No interest in getting into it.
But he’s not with me. He’s stopped, digging in his heels like the mule he is when it comes to this kind of thing.
He won’t let up until I give him more, so I stop and turn around. “It’s fine.”
“Nightmares again?” He’s still youthful considering he has six kids firmly in adulthood. He and my mom started young, so they actually are rather young to have an oldest son in his mid-thirties.
Still, when he looks at me like this, I see the wear on him. I know he still worries about me—about all of us. His heart attack last year took us all by surprise, and it set him back a bit. But he’s recovered so well, sometimes I forget to worry about him.
“No. Just work stuff.”
Not exactly that, but the woman I talked to last night. She was so guarded and clearly uncomfortable with me helping her. Maybe because I’m a man and a fairly largeone at that, or maybe because I’m law enforcement. I know not everyone has positive experiences, unfortunately.
There’s also a part of me that has to consider she might be part of this mess with Patriot Ridge. The cult-like compound should’ve been destroyed when Peak County Sheriff’s department and the Silverton Police department raided it late last year, but it’s rumored to be growing again despite that intervention. I got word last week that the Silverton PD is tracking at least one disappearance they’re worried might be related to the place. What that means is anyone coming through my county or my town is a potential bad actor.
Maybe a visitor. Maybe a criminal.
Either way, I hated it.
Hated even more seeing a single woman pulling into the motel last night. When I saw her beat-up old car skirt the park and head back out of town, away from the Old Hat Bed and Breakfast or the JV Inn, I couldn’t let her go that stretch alone. If she was up to no good, I might catch her recruiting or meeting up with someone sketchy and that’d give me info. And if not…
So I kept my distance and made sure she got settled into her roadside room and left. I shouldn’t have done it, because I wouldn’t have this image of her in my head if I hadn’t. I don’t regret making sure she got there safely, especially on a spare tire, but I wouldn’t have seenher.
Of course I could tell she was pretty when I helped her change the tire—or tried to—but not…that.Not so beautiful that just looking at her from twenty yards away lit only by a dim light plastered to the wall of the motel outside her door was a sucker punch.
I don’t do that. I’m not attracted to people I try to help or pull over or interact with in a work capacity. I take themin like evidence, just like I did with her when she stepped out of her car last night on the roadside—long dark hair, pale skin, no good read on eye color in the dim twilight. Petite build, jeans, and a sweater over a plain T-shirt. Notably lacking a jacket. Well-worn sneakers on her feet. Generally unremarkable in terms of red flags or suspicious behavior, but with what’s been happening around the county, I can’t simply ignore her. I didn’t allow myself to put the picture together then despite feeling a tug of concern at her resistance to me.
Generally, I don’t feel attraction to anyone. It’s not something I have to turn off because I think the ability to be attracted orwantgot cauterized two years ago. Or… I thought it had.
“Earth to Grant.”
My dad comes into focus. He’s still handsome with a shaved face lined with debonair wrinkles and gray hair that’s thinning on top but still holding strong. He’s not as tanned as he’ll be come summer, but he’s still got a warm tone to his skin. His bright eyes are just like mine, though his have an aspect to them that makes it seem like he’s always about to laugh. Only one of his children inherited that feature, and it’s not me.
“Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. Work stuff. But… no nightmares.”
Flashes of the recurring nightmare I haven’t dealt with in a few months slice through my head. Flames. Crushed metal. A car at my door. My commanding officer and CSM, plus a chaplain and the local PD.I never wanted this. The girls are so tiny, crying and crying and crying—I’m not ready for this. I don’t know how to do this.
Dad’s hugging me tight, then pulling away to pin me with his wizened gaze. I’ve got a solid six inches on the oldman now, but he and Mom are still the rocks of this family.
“You’re a good man, Grant.”
I nod. He pats my shoulder. We head inside.
I’ve worked to believe he’s not wrong, but he’s also not right. He doesn’t know everything, and I can’t tell him or anyone the whole of it.
I can never admit how thoroughly I failed life’s biggest test before I finally got my feet under me. How I could hardly look at the girls those first few days. I held them, fed them, rocked them to sleep. If it weren’t for my brother, I don’t know how I would’ve done it. And every second I spent feeling boxed up and absent from my body, and from them, was a failure.
So I’ll keep doing the next thing and eventually…
Eventually, it’ll be fine.
CHAPTER THREE
Sam
Juniper View is even cuter than I thought it would be.
It was adorable from the window as I drove through last night, but I couldn’t begin to take it all in while stressing about the tire, the run-in with the sheriff on day one, and whether or not I’d actually make it to the motel I’d mapped out.
