"He passed in his sleep," he says, and I try to hide my sob. “He had a DNR, and he also refused to let anyone see him like that. The funeral home has picked him up, and he’s being cremated this evening." I don’t say anything because I can’t. I can’t say anything. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Hazel," Dr. Shepard says. “He loved you and Sofia with everything he had."
"Thank you,” I say, “for letting me know."
"If you have any questions or if you need anything …" He gives me his number, which I don’t take down. Hanging up the phone, I’m staring at my desk when someone walks by my office and notices me crying.
"Are you okay?" Caitlyn says, and I just look at her because the shock is still settling in.
"My grandfather passed away,” I say, and she puts her hand to her mouth.
"Oh my gosh, is there anything I can do?" she asks.
I look at her, saying the words I said I would never say. "I have to go home."
Chapter 3
Reed
"Keep your head up." I looked around at my squad as they all nodded at me. We walked down the street, and rubble was everywhere. "Eyes open," I told them as the five of us walked side by side. We took in the shattered storefronts.
"They did this to their own people," one of my guys said in disbelief, and I just looked over at him, I held the gun in my hand as we walked past what looks like a church. A couple of people are now in the street with us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a little girl with brown hair, she looked straight at me. My breath stopped as she turned and walked into the building. My feet moved as I followed her and called out. “Stop,” I said, knowing she wasn’t going to understand. She walked into the front door, and when I got in there, I saw baby bassinets everywhere. I stopped in the middle of the room, my body bent over to pick up a disregarded doll. The blond hair was matted, and she had burn marks all over her, the plastic melted in some spots. Movement to the side made me look back at the little girl who stood there and smiled at me. I looked into her eyes and then saw the grenade in her hand as she dropped it on the floor. I yelled right before it exploded.
I gasp as if I just came up from holding my breath underwater. Sitting up in the bed, I feel wetness all around me. It takes a second for me to gather my bearings and remember where I am. Using the light from the bathroom, I see that I’m in a king-size bed. "Home,” I say to myself. “I’m home." I look down, and drops of sweat drip off me.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I look down at the pink and snarly scar on my leg that goes from the middle of my thigh to my knee. I get up, and the skin pulls tight as I walk over to the bathroom and dim the lights. After turning the shower on, I turn to look at myself in the mirror. My eyes go to the scar on my side that I got while on a training exercise, making me think back.
I arrived at base more excited than I’ve ever been in all my life. Arriving in Georgia, I couldn’t wait to start and woke up before everyone else. It was a sixty-two-day Ranger program, and I finished at the top of my class. My body had bulked up during this. I closed myself off from my family and my life back at home, deleting all forms of social media and even suspending my cell phone. I called home once a week on Sunday using the base phone, but other than that, my life was on training. I worked my way up the ranks and trained with some of the baddest sons of bitches who ever walked the earth. I would die for each of my brothers, and I knew they would for me, too.
When I went on my first deployment, I got another cell phone, but I drew the line at social media until Quinn and Willow had a baby. I followed just my family, and by then, my life was very different from theirs. They followed me as I toured the world, and to be honest, in the past six years, I’ve missed them a total of two times—on my first Christmas without them and when Harlow graduated. Other than that, I was okay.
I hang my head as the water streams over me, my eyes closing when I see that little girl again, and I quickly open my eyes.
"The mind is a tricky place," the psychiatrist said when I went in for a mandatory evaluation after I arrived in Germany. "Sometimes, it locks memories, only for them to come out when we least expect it."
Turning the shower off, I grab a white towel and wrap it around my waist, walking from the master bedroom toward the kitchen. Turning on the lights and looking at the kitchen, I shake my head. My mother has definitely renovated this kitchen in the past two years. Everything is white.
The massive island in the middle of the room has a marble white and gray countertop with three silver lights hanging over it. I walk to one of the cupboards and open it, trying to find coffee. Once I do, I start the coffee and walk back to the bedroom, slipping on a pair of boxers and shorts. The aroma of coffee fills the house, and I grab a mug to fill up.
Walking out to the backyard, I sit on the porch step and look up at the sky. The black sky is turning a soft gray right before it turns a soft pink. I try not to think about the last time I saw this sky. I try not to think about Hazel and the last time I saw these stars. I put her back in the safe box of memories I’ll take to the grave. I drink my coffee, watching the sun wake up and shine down.
Getting up, I walk back inside, my stomach now rumbling a little. Opening the big stainless steel fridge, I see that it’s full. I also see that my grandmother has sent over some of my favorite food. I start taking out the chicken potpie when I hear the sound of a car door shut. I look over at the clock on the stove and see that it’s a little after seven.
"Welcome home." I shake my head when I hear the soft knock on the door. Walking to the door, I open it, and a smile fills my face when I see my cousin Ethan there. “This fucking guy,” he says, looking at me. “Holy shit, you grew." He holds up his hand. “I’ve got breakfast."
I move to the side. “Come in,” I say, and when he comes through the doorway, he stops and gives me a hug.
"Glad to have you home,” he says, and I nod.
"It’s good to be home." The words taste sour in my mouth. "I think,” I say, shaking my head. Out of everyone here, Ethan is the one who might understand me the most. He left home when he was twenty-one, and no one saw him for seven years.
I close the door and walk into the kitchen with him. “You were going to eat chicken potpie at seven in the morning?"
"I haven’t had that in six years,” I say, laughing. “Fucking right, I was going to eat it at seven a.m."
"Then I guess you don’t want what’s in the bag?" He holds up the big brown bag in his hands.
"What’s in the bag?" I ask, and he laughs.
"Grandma’s biscuits and gravy that she just made," he says, and my mouth waters just thinking about it.
"I’ll have that on the side with the chicken potpie,” I say, walking over to get plates out. I scoop some pie and pop it in the microwave. "Do you want some coffee?"
"Sure, I’ll have a cup,” he says. I can tell he wants me to be comfortable with him. I pour him a cup of coffee and another one for myself.
He walks over to the fridge and takes the milk out to pour in his coffee. Pulling out the stool at the counter, he sits down, opens the bag, and takes out two containers.