The Texas Soldier's Son. Karen Whiddon
for Nicole, an entire year had passed and she’d gone on with her life, for him it felt like barely a few months had passed. Being in a coma for a long time had that effect on a person.
He’d never seen this betrayal coming. Not in a million years. In a shaky world full of snipers and IEDs, Nicole’s love had been the one constant, the one certainty he’d believed he could count on. Clearly, their relationship had been nothing but a lie to her.
He drank enough to pass out, alternating with beer, before switching to the more potent moonshine. Once he couldn’t see straight, he staggered into the bedroom and the lumpy mattress that had come with the house and let his body fall onto the bed.
He prayed and hoped for at least a couple of hours oblivion, knowing he’d be lucky to get even that. But when he sat straight up in bed with a gasp, while thunder cracked and boomed outside, he hadn’t been surprised to find himself automatically reaching for his weapon. Thunder sounded like explosions. It took him a full twelve seconds to realize the flashes of light were actually lightning, accompanying the roar of steady rain.
A storm. East Texas thunder boomer. Like someone had sliced a hole in the clouds and let the water all dump out at once. It didn’t rain like this in Afghanistan. Proof positive that he was home, that it all hadn’t been a dream.
And then he remembered Nicole. The pain slicing through his gut had him doubling over, nausea coming in waves. Racing for the bathroom, he barely made it before retching up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.
Once he thought he was done, he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash and went back to bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying to shut down his brain. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what a cluster his life had become.
He’d rented this house for six months, paying cash in advance including the deposit. According to the rental contract, he had to stay there the entire time or forfeit the money. He supposed he could walk away, but the truth of the matter was he had nowhere else to go. Anniversary was his hometown, where he’d grown up, gone to school and planned to settle and raise his own kids someday.
Kids. Another jolt, straight to the heart. The only woman he’d ever wanted to have children with now had one of her own, with another man.
Covering his eyes, he listened to the storm raging outside, matching the emotions inside.
Finally, he must have fallen asleep. When he next opened his eyes, sunshine streamed through the bedroom windows, relentlessly cheerful. With the morning came clarity. He knew what he had to do. Find Nicole and demand an explanation. She owed him that at least.
Since he hadn’t had time to stock the place with groceries, he decided he’d head downtown and have breakfast at the café. A couple of cups of coffee and some fried eggs, biscuits and gravy, and bacon would do wonders to banish the lingering nausea from the night before.
Stepping outside, the humidity and heat made him smile. Another sign he was home, because the desert heat had been brutal and dry. This was Texas, familiar and welcome.
Downtown hadn’t changed a bit. He lucked out and found a parking space right in front of the café. Inside, he saw Trudy Blevins, self-dubbed nosiest woman in Anniversary, apparently interviewing customers for either her newspaper column or her radio segment. Huge, flamboyant earrings swung from her ears and she chewed gum in between talking. Though he kept his back to her, he found the sight of her oddly reassuring. Proof that some things at least, never changed.
Taking a seat at the countertop, he grinned when the owner Jed Rodgers caught sight of him and did a double take. Jed made a beeline for him, hand outstretched. “Let me shake your hand,” the older man exclaimed. When Kyle went to shake, instead Jed pulled him close for a quick guy hug. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life. Everyone thought you were dead.”
Kyle ducked his head. “Clearly, I’m not. What I am, though, is starving.”
“Tell me what you want.” Jed got out his order pad. “Whatever you get, it’s on the house.”
Touched, Kyle thanked him and placed his order. Jed carried it to the kitchen, returning with a mug and the pot of coffee. “Here you go. You still drink it black, right?”
“Yep.” The first sip tasted like it always had, strong and rich. “I don’t know what kind of coffee you brew, but it’s the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”
Jed acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. People had been after him for years to reveal his coffee’s secret. He claimed it was a secret he planned to carry to the grave.
Since the breakfast crowd had begun to thin out, the two waitresses were able to handle the rest of the customers. Jed leaned on the counter, settling in for a chat.
“Big news going on here in our small town,” Jed drawled. “The jaws are a’ waggin’, that’s for sure.”
“Because I’m back?” Kyle hoped not. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was Trudy Blevins shoving her microphone in his face and rattling off questions.
“Well, that too. But no, recently we had our first murder.”
Since Jed didn’t sound grief stricken, Kyle could only assume the deceased had been someone Jed didn’t know well.
The cook rang the little bell to signify an order was up. Jed grabbed it and slid the plate in front of Kyle. Two fried eggs, sunny-side up. Biscuits with creamy sausage gravy. Crispy bacon and a side of grits.
“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven—for real this time,” Kyle said. “We couldn’t get food like this in Afghanistan. Not in the hospital either.”
“Dig in, son.” Jed wiped his hands on his apron and smiled, before refilling Kyle’s coffee cup. “I’m going to go talk to Trudy and see if she’s heard anything new about the murder.”
Mouth full, Kyle waved him away. Gossip had always been a hot commodity in this town, though he figured most small communities were probably like that. As for him, he couldn’t have cared less. Once he’d inhaled his breakfast and sucked down some caffeine, he planned to figure out where exactly Nicole lived and pay her a visit. She at least owed him some sort of explanation.
Luckily, everyone left him alone to eat in peace. But the second he pushed his empty plate away, Trudy Blevins hustled over.
“Kyle Benning,” she trilled. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”
Taking a deep breath, Kyle turned to face her. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s great to finally be back in town.”
“I imagine it is.” She wore a cat-about-to-eat-a-canary look. “And I’m guessing you probably heard about the murder.”
He shrugged. “Jed mentioned something about a murder. I’m sorry to hear about that. Anniversary has always been such a safe place.”
“Oh, it still is, I’m thinking.” Expression turning sly, she climbed up on the stool next to him as if she meant to stay awhile. Which he supposed was fine, because he certainly did not. He signaled Jed for the check, but Jed waved him away, mouthing again that the meal was on the house.
“Word is, the killer was someone who knew the dead man all too well,” Trudy continued.
Kyle gave a polite nod, keeping his expression disinterested. He made a show out of checking his watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” he began.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’d think this story would be a particular interest to you. In fact, I’d like to report on your reaction.”
“Trudy?” He stared pointedly at her hand on his forearm, making it clear her touch wasn’t exactly welcome. She finally huffed and removed it.
“Trudy,” he repeated. “Look, I just got back in town yesterday. While I’m sure I’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’ve got too much to do right now. I’ll catch up with everything on the local news later tonight.”