Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

DAMIEN

“This is stupid; so, so stupid,” I mutter to myself as I carefully drive along the curvy mountain roads. “He probably never even mentioned me to her.”

Levi was my bunkmate when we went through basic training, and we quickly became best friends. When he died, I nearly left the Navy, but had to honor my commitment. Now, however, after being honorably discharged due to injuries that would prevent me from being at one hundred percent, I’m heading toward the tiny town he came from so I can meet his Emerie, and bring her the things he had for her that he never got to bring home. Hopefully, she’s moved on from him, but somewhere deep inside, I suspect she hasn’t simply because of how he used to regale me with stories of the two of them growing up in Possum Creek.

I finally pull into the parking lot of a small hotel in Possum Creek, where Levi’s family lives and where I hope Emerie still does as well. I don’t know if she’s moved or not, which is why I’ll stop at Levi’s parents’ house first. As I get out of my truck, I can hear water, so I walk toward where I see a railing then look out. I’m immediately captivated by the view in front of me. There’s a creek behind the hotel, flowing along over a variety of rocks and boulders, with the greenest foliage I’ve ever seen. I can hear birds chirping and the air is so fresh and clean, I find myself taking deep breaths as if to soak it all in. As pretty as the scenery is, I decide to check in and get some rest. The drive was a long one and my constant internal struggle over whether or not I was doing the right thing has wiped me out. It may only be late afternoon, but I’m still recovering from my injuries and that, coupled with my nerves, has me longing for a short nap.

I wake up thinking that I slept for a few hours only to find out it’s daylight. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever slept since before I was in the Navy. Hell, I got used to catching an hour or two here or there, and if I was able to string four hours together at one time, I thought I’d won the lottery. Getting up, I stretch, grimacing at the ache in my left thigh where a titanium rod now resides in place of my shattered femur.

At least you still have your leg, I think. They wanted to amputate, remember? I grimace at the reminder because while I would’ve dealt with that particular hand, I know from others that amputations that are done at the hip are harder to learn to use a prosthetic limb, and I’m still too active to want to spend what’s left of my life in a wheelchair.

As I make my way into the bathroom to take care of my morning bladder before I jump into the shower, I send up thanks once again that my leg was saved. I was definitely close to losing it, but thanks to some awesome doctors who fought for me since I was unconscious, I’m willing to deal with the occasional aches and pains. Yesterday’s drive didn’t help, but I know once I get moving, it’ll get better. Worst case scenario, I’ll take something once I’m done with my errands. Probably should’ve done that yesterday but I didn’t expect to sleep the rest of the day and all night.

Once I’m showered, I decide to walk around since my weather app says it’s nice outside and see if I can find someplace to grab breakfast. There’s plenty of time to reach out to Emerie since I do have Levi’s parents’ address. I wasn’t able to attend his funeral but made sure to send a plant to his parents in his memory.

Fuck, do I miss him. He was so damn laidback it was almost as if he was sleepwalking through life. Nothing phased him at all, which meant he survived Hell Week with flying colors. He’s one of the reasons I made it through as well, because he would remind me over and over again that their job was to try and break us while ours was to survive so we could fight for our country.

“Have a good day, sir,” the motel receptionist says as I walk through on my way to hunt down some food.

“Thanks.”

The motel is unlike anything I’ve ever stayed in before. It’s a quaint but huge older home that’s been renovated into about a dozen or so well-appointed rooms. I’m in a turret room and know my youngest sister would love it and think she was a princess. Grinning, I make a mental note to take pictures to send her.

Less than a block away, I find a diner and seeing the number of vehicles in the parking lot, realize I’ve found a hidden treasure. Once inside, it’s obvious that most of the patrons are locals just based on how they’re interacting with the waitresses. There are some tourists, probably from the same place I’m staying at, but the bulk of the folks I see eating appear to be native to the area.

I grab one of the remaining stools at the counter and pull a menu toward me as a waitress comes over with a coffee carafe in hand. “Would you like coffee, sir?” she asks.

“Please,” I reply.

She flips my cup over then fills it up before saying, “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“Just need a few minutes,” I say. She nods and steps away to help someone else, leaving me to peruse the menu.

I’m going to need to take a ten-mile run instead of my usual five to work off the food I just ate. Jesus, the portions were not lacking, and since I’m technically still in the first year of healing, I definitely got my protein intake for the day. I continue walking along what appears to be the town’s main street, content to wander through the various shops.

“Dena will like this,” I tell the clerk as I hand her the unique ornament she helped me find.

The shop is holiday themed, with each section devoted to a specific holiday. Since Dena, my sister, loves Christmas, I searched until I found an ornament for her tree. She’s my youngest sibling, at fifteen, and I started buying her ornaments the year she was born. I’m not sure where I got the idea, probably from social media, but when she goes out on her own, she’s going to have enough to decorate her own tree, instead of the one my parents put up.

“It’s definitely different. We have a local artisan who makes these,” the clerk says as she carefully wraps it in some bubble wrap then paper before placing it in the bag. She does all that before she rings me up.

As I hand her my credit card, I ask, “Does that person have a website? Because I’m just passing through, but if they do, I can always order something for my sister.”

“She does. I’ll slip one of her cards in your bag,” she replies, putting my receipt in the bag. She then picks up a business card and hands it directly to me. “A lot of the items in here are locally sourced. They may be a bit pricier than mass made items, but they’re quality, you know?”

“Yeah, I want that since these are for my sister and hopefully, when she’s old enough to get out on her own, she’ll have plenty of ornaments for her first Christmas.”

“Oh, my goodness, that’s so sweet!” the clerk exclaims, smiling at me.

“She’s my little princess,” I reply. “Followed me around when she was younger and was a definite pain in the behind at times, but I adore her.”

“She’s lucky to have a big brother like you.”

I nod, pick up my bag and say, “Thanks again for everything. You have a good day.”

“You do the same. Enjoy your visit to Possum Creek.”