A Veteran’s Desire (Wild Heart Veterans #4)

Prologue

GRANT

The walk from Jake’s Retreat into Hope is ten miles and takes me almost two hours. A slow pace for a former Green Beret, but not bad considering everything I own is on my back.

The mountain is behind me and the town before me, and I chew over my next move and where I should go next. I spent the last decade following orders and being posted where I was needed most. The sudden freedom is hard to get used to.

The steep mountain roads flatten out and widen as I reach the edge of town. I cross a bridge where a river burbles beneath it, and I pause to listen to the water and peer up at the mountain watching down on all of us.

My back aches from the heavy pack, but I ignore it and pull out my phone to check the bus schedule.

There’s a bus to Charlotte at fifteen thirty, and one to Fayetteville at seventeen hundred. I came here straight from Fort Bragg. The memory is still raw of my final posting and the process of leaving with an honorable discharge. I’m in no hurry to go back, so Charlotte it is.

Besides, it will have more transport options. I could head west and look for seasonal work.

Or I could head north and visit Mason’s widow.

Nope. I shut the idea down. I’m not ready for that journey.

From Charlotte, I can catch a Greyhound to take me into farming country, try my luck picking up farm work in Kentucky.

Hell, I’m strong enough to pull a plow if they need me to.

Not that I need the money. I invested most of my military income and can live off that for a good few years.

But work is distraction, and I sure as hell need a distraction.

With a destination decided, I head down the main street of Hope. I’ve got two hours before the bus is due, and I could do with a coffee and a bite to eat.

I grab a chicken sandwich from a deli and eat it on a park bench while staring at the mountain.

Funny how something so majestic can make you forget about everything else for a while.

I’ve just spent a week with a bunch of veterans hiking, climbing, and remembering what I loved about the outdoors.

In our group, there was a guy who’d left one leg behind in Afghanistan.

He got up those crags faster than most of the group and had a grin on his face wider than the Hope valley.

He must have been an exceptional soldier.

I finish my sandwich and chuck the wrapper in the trash. A little something sweet to follow it would be perfect. Back on the main street, I come across a bakery, Sweet there’s no rush when you don’t have a destination.

Five o’clock rolls around, and the cafe empties out. The woman wipes tables down, and she’ll be wanting to lock up.

I stand from my position, and my knee creaks from sitting for so long.

“You got somewhere to go, soldier?”

“Grant. My name’s Grant.”

“You got somewhere to go, Grant, or you want me to call Joel, see if we can find you a bed for the night?”

She puts her hands on her hips, and worry lines crease her brow. I wonder how many stray veterans they get through here. Her concern is sweet, but the last thing I want to be is her problem.

“I’ve got somewhere to go. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay, take care of yourself. My name’s Hannah, by the way.”

“Hannah.” My voice is rusty from not much use, and her name doesn’t sound worthy coming from my lips. “Of the Honey Cakes.”

She gives me a surprised smile, and I indicate the label where I read her name.

“Oh.” Her smile widens, revealing her white teeth peeking out between her plush lips. “Yup, that’s me.”

We stare at each other for a beat. I don’t want to leave, but I have no reason to stay. Then she touches my shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, like anyone might give a customer, but her fingers hold a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time.

“You take care of yourself, Grant.”

Another woman comes through from the back. I’ve observed her throughout the day, and judging by the dark hair and eyes, they must be sisters. At least Hannah’s not here alone after dark.

I grab my pack and head outside. The town has emptied out now that most of the shops are closed. A man locks up two doors down, and a pickup rumbles up the street.

I glance back at Sweet & Strong. Through the window, Hannah stacks chairs onto tables while her sister sweeps the floor. She must say something funny, because Hannah tips her head back and laughs. I smile, even though I don’t know the joke.

Then I shoulder my pack and begin the long walk up the mountain, back to Jake’s Retreat.