Starting my truck, I look out at the green trees and hear honking in the distance. "You have thirty days," he says, and I close my eyes.
"Fine,” I say, and I can hear him cheer from here. "Let me get my shit together, and then I’ll message you when I land."
"You call me when your shit is ready," my father says. “I’ll get you a plane."
"Fine,” I say, knowing I won’t be able to argue with him, and if I do, he’ll get on the plane and come and get me himself. I hang up the phone and make my way over to the house I share with five other fellow soldiers.
We are never here all at the same time, so it works out for us. I walk up the steps one at a time because my leg burns. Opening my door, I grab my green duffel bag and put my clothes in it. My phone rings again, and looking down, I see it’s my brother.
"Dad call you?" I ask, laughing. It’s good to hear his voice.
"No,” he says. “I was with him when he called you. Gotta say I thought he was going to cry."
"I’ve been telling you this my whole life." I grab my T-shirts. “I’m his favorite."
"Harlow is his favorite," he says. “Only because she won’t move out of the house."
"What the fuck is she still doing living at home?" I ask, shocked.
"Why don’t you ask her when you get here?" he says. “You need anything?"
"Nah, I think I’ll be good,” I say. “Are you with Dad?"
"He’s in the barn, why?" he asks.
"Tell him I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” I say, and he laughs.
"The plane was ready five seconds after you hung up on him. I’ll send you the information."
"Figures,” I say, turning now to sit on my bed. “See you soon."
"Fly safe,” he says and disconnects. The ping of a text comes through right after with the address of the private airfield.
I exhale, looking around the bare room. I haven’t really done much to it, the only personal things I have are the pictures on my dresser of some of the places I’ve visited.
Getting up, I take one more look around. “Be back in twenty-nine days," I tell the bare walls. As I’m leaving, I run into one of my roommates.
"Hey, where are you off to?" he asks, looking at my bag slung over my shoulder.
"Home,” I say, and his eyes go big. “It’s been a while."
"When are you coming back?" he asks.
"Not sure yet. But by next month,” I say. “See you then.” I look down when I get a text from my father.
Dad: Car is out waiting for you. No rush.
"My car is here,” I say. “Take care."
"Stay safe." I salute him as I walk out of the house. The car is parked out front, and the driver gets out to grab my bag.
"I got it,” I say, and he waits for me to put the bag in the trunk. He holds the door open for me, and I get in. We don’t chitchat as he drives to the airfield where the private plane is waiting for me. My heartbeat speeds up as I get closer, and I want to tell the driver to take me back. Maybe going to visit right now isn’t a good idea.
I get out and meet the driver at the trunk, but someone is already there to grab my bag. “Welcome, Mr. Barnes,” he says, and not hearing my rank of staff sergeant in front is weird.
I walk up the five little stairs and duck down to get into the plane, and the flight attendant is there smiling at me. “Welcome aboard,” she says. “We’ll get off the ground as soon as you’re seated."
I walk to the chair with a nod, then sit down and look out the little window. The plane prepares for takeoff, and I see the car drive away. I look out the window as we take off, and when she comes back with a tray of fruit, I just smile at her and ask for water.
My whole body is tight with nerves. I roll my neck, but my stomach gets tighter. As we get closer and closer to landing, my whole body trembles. My leg bounces, and when the wheels touch down, I feel like I’m going to vomit. "It’s just for a month," I remind myself, mentally preparing for the guilt and the questions on why I haven’t come back. Because the only answer I have will make me feel like an asshole.
I wait for the door to open before I get up. After thanking her, I walk out of the plane, and the humidity hits me right away. I walk down the five steps and see a black Range Rover waiting off to the side.
When the driver's side opens, and I see dirty cowboy boots, I smile. Only my father can pull this shit off. His jeans are even worse than his boots. His whole fucking face lights up when he sees me. He walks over to me with tears in his eyes. Grabbing my shoulder in his hand, he pulls me to him, giving me the biggest hug he’s ever given me in my life. He puts his hand on the back of my head, letting me go from the hug. Gazing into his blue eyes is like looking in a mirror. “Welcome home, son."
Chapter 2
Hazel
The soft alarm wakes me, and I stick out my arm to grab my phone. I bring the phone with me under the covers and debate if I should get up and work out or just get the extra hour of sleep. I close my eyes, and when the second alarm wakes me, I throw the covers off me and get up.
It’s still dark outside, but the sun is slowly starting to rise. I walk over to the chair in my room, slipping out of my shorts and tank top and replacing it with my yoga pants and sports bra. I grab my water bottle out of the fridge and walk to the exercise bike in the corner of the living room. Turning the television on low, I start riding the bike, and forty-five minutes later, I’m heaving while I walk down the hallway.
Stopping in front of the closed door and opening it, I see it’s still a bit dark in the room. My daughter, Sofia, sleeps in the middle of the bed with the covers kicked off. I pull the door just a bit even though she should be getting up any second now. She has her own alarm clock, and every day at six thirty, she is out of bed. Even when she was born five years ago, six thirty was her time. No matter what time she goes to bed, it’s her inner clock.
I step into the shower, and like clockwork, I hear her walking in right when I’m drying myself off. “Momma." She rubs her eyes as she comes to me.
I look up at my twin and smile. “Morning, baby,” I say, softly kissing her neck. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," she grumbles. “I had a dream of clowns and horses."
I laugh. “Did the clowns ride the horses?" I ask, and she giggles. “Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll start breakfast."
"Okay, Momma." She stops in front of me again so I can kiss her. "I want pancakes."
"Okay," I say, kissing her on the lips now and watching her bounce off to get dressed.
I slip on my robe and walk to the kitchen of my condo, opening the shades to allow the sunlight to pour in.
I never thought I’d be a single mom. Not me. I had a plan, and none of that was me being a teenage mom. I could have given up then and there, but instead, it pushed me harder. Not only did I want to achieve big things but I also wanted to do it for Sofia. I never ever wanted her to miss anything, never wanted her to have that thought in her head that because I had her, my dreams were crushed.