“I know,” Nick said. “But he got evicted a month after I left, and the landlord sold the house. What did you expect me to do? Put him up in my dorm? Anyway, I didn’t use it all for… never mind.”
Jed sighed at the irony, too tired to be curious as Nick’s tight, clipped voice fell away. He’d sent Nick a check every month for years to keep him away from their father. How the hell had he ended up paying for Frank Cooper to rot in a cushy retirement village?
The urge to say so was strong, but Jed swallowed the words. He’d traveled a long way to get to the last place on earth he wanted to be. He didn’t have the energy to bicker with Nick. Instead, he summoned what little enthusiasm he had left and held out his hand. “Thanks for putting me up. I appreciate it, more than you know.”
Nick clasped his outstretched hand, and for a moment it almost felt normal. “Like I said, it’s just until you get settled. Kim had some ideas. Her brother lives up by the lake. His place is all on one level, and he has a spare room. She’s going to talk to him this weekend.”
Jed nodded, still bemused by the sight of his childhood possessions dotted around the room. He figured the conversation closed until Nick cleared his throat and dropped his artfully concealed bomb.
“Max is like you, actually.”
Jed cut his gaze to Nick. Something in his tone set his teeth on edge. “Like me? What? A veteran? A cripple?”
“No, he’s, um, gay.”
“And you figured you’d be safer with us all in one place?”
Nick squirmed. “Christ, no. I didn’t mean that. Look, I figured it would be easier for you to stay there. You’d have more space and privacy. Do you want to live in my kitchen?”
Jed sighed. Nick was right, and the longer Jed stood in this damned house, the more he could see it. Coming back to Ashton had been a big mistake, one he couldn’t fix until he got back on his feet.
Chapter Two
ITHADbeen longer than Jed cared to remember since he’d last had such comforts as running water, a pillow, and real food at his permanent disposal, except for those long weeks in the VA hospital in Boston. These days, he could do without the food, and he’d never liked pillows, but when he finally found himself alone in his new room, a long hot shower did him a world of good.
The resulting staring contest with the mirror was less welcome. Even muted by steam, his reflection haunted him, and the lingering stain of the desert sun did little to hide the vicious scarring on the left side of his body. He touched the marbled patch of skin on his shoulder, burned by the flames he’d failed to roll away from. The skin was thin and strange: rough in some places and like silk in others He tore his gaze away and looked down past the dark tattoo on his arm to the surgical scar that stretched from his hip to halfway down his thigh. It was ten inches long and flanked by two circular scars: entry and exit wounds, grisly reminders of the bullet that had torn through his flesh.
Jed shivered and touched the only scar on his face to distract himself. It was a small wound over his left eyebrow, half an inch wide and a few years old. He didn’t remember much of the incident that had caused it, but he recalled with painful clarity the words of his team medic a few days later.
“Dude, you’re the only motherfucker I know who could lead a mission an hour after getting his head blown off.”
Though Jed’s body was a map of the past decade, each experience indelibly imprinted on his brain, it wasn’t an accolade he was particularly proud of.
He stepped away from the mirror with a heavy sigh, retreated from the bathroom, and spent the remainder of his first night in Ashton watching rain trickle down the windows. A mild storm battered the house and distracted him from the unwelcome quiet until he grew weary enough to find sleep.
Dawn broke a few hours later, and he woke to the smell of synthetic chocolate and the high-pitched chatter of children’s TV. He opened his eyes. An AK47 in his face would have been less of a surprise than the sight of his youngest niece, Tess, curled up next to his pillow. A closer sweep of the room revealed a flowery pink comforter spread over his legs and six-year-old Belle stretched out at his feet. Both girls had their eyes glued to the flat-screen on the dresser.
A rueful smile crept over Jed’s face. The two tiny girls were the only thing that hadn’t sucked about dragging his ass home to Oregon. He’d believed for the longest time he’d never have the chance to know them, and when they’d come bounding down the stairs behind their mother, Kim, Jed could hardly believe his eyes. The girls were like night and day, but they were both utterly beautiful. When Tess had jumped right into his arms the previous evening, he’d felt more alive than he had in years.
“Uncle Jed, do you want to watchNinja Turtles?It’s on Nickelodeon now. Uncle Max likes Michelangelo.”
Jed blinked. Tess appeared in front of him, so close their noses touched. He shifted slightly, gritting his teeth. He was wide awake, but the stiffness in his lower body told him he wasn’t getting up anytime soon. “Michelangelo? Is that the purple one?”
“No, silly. The purple one is Donatello. Uncle Max says he’s a geek.”
Tess proffered her half-eaten breakfast. Jed waved away the soggy Pop-Tart and eyed the semiviolent martial arts cartoon. He vaguely remembered the original, watched on a dusty, archaic TV set in his ramshackle childhood home just a few streets away. Neither version fit with the pink hearts, butterflies, and random African art that seemed to dominate the rest of his brother’s house.
He ruffled Tess’s hair. “What’s with the turtles? I thought you didn’t like stinky boys?”
Tess shrugged, too young to comprehend the question. Belle said from the foot of the bed, “Uncle Max likes it. He won’t watch girlie shows with us unless he’s being mean to Daddy.”
“Yeah? Is Uncle Max mean to your daddy a lot?”
“Only when he deserves it.” The new voice in the doorway startled Jed. For all his deeply ingrained instincts, he hadn’t heard Kim approach.
“All the time, then, huh?”
Kim grinned. “Pretty much. Girls? That’s enough TV now. Let’s give Uncle Jed some peace.”