calling his name as she moved through the rooms.
She’d emailed last night to tell him she’d be here today. When she’d gone straight from the airport to Nina’s, she’d texted to let him know she’d be a few hours. His lack of reply hadn’t worried her. He always read her notes, but rarely replied.
But his lack of presence in his own house was starting to make her twitch.
She reached the study and stopped short, frowning.
She always found him in the study, buried in books, papers and his own brilliant thoughts.
Where was he?
“Dad?” she called again, heading back to the front of the house. “Are you here?”
“Sage?” Coming from the kitchen, her father pushed a hand through his hair, sounding confused. “When did you get home? I wasn’t expecting you.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
It’d only been eight months since she’d seen him. What had happened? He looked horrible. Like he’d lost weight, color and half his life force. Her feet felt like they were glued to the floor with dread as he shuffled over to wrap his arms around her. Instead of being engulfed in the usual bear hug, it was like being patted down by a skeleton. And what did he mean, he wasn’t expecting her? Her frown deepened and a heavy knot took hold deep in her belly.
Before she could comment, another man joined them in the foyer.
“Dr. Brooke?” she said in greeting, sounding as confused as she felt. She thought that while her father respected their neighbor as a skilled oncologist, he also considered the guy as boring as dried mud. Now they were coffee buddies?
“Sage, I’m glad you’re home,” the doctor said, his expression gravely relieved.
“What’s going on?”
She looked from her father to the doctor then back again.
“Dad?”
“Sweetie, I’ll explain everything,” he promised, patting her icy hand. Despite his horrible appearance, he looked like he’d just won the lottery, discovered a time machine and had spent the weekend with a roomful of exotic dancers, combined. His huge smile was at direct odds with the dread in her belly.
“But first, sweetie, I want all the details of your great news. I hear we’re having a wedding.”
2
The present
AHH, VILLA ROSA.
He’d been gone quite a while. Two tours and his last couple leaves spent in sunny places meant he hadn’t been back in well over a year. Long enough that Chief Petty Officer Aiden Masters wondered why he still considered Villa Rosa home. Or if he did.
For a guy that spent most of his life on a naval base, transferring from the east to the west coast and back and called an APO his mailing address, home was an odd concept.
There were plenty of odes to coming home in literature. Hell, Odysseus had spent two decades obsessed with the task. Movies were sold on the theme month after month. People made a big deal out of it all the time.
But for Aiden, coming home was a mystery. Was he supposed to feel nostalgia over crossing the city limits of Villa Rosa, just because he’d spent time here as a kid? Or was that special feeling reserved for the little corner of Idaho he’d been born in, even though he hadn’t been there since he was two? Was familiarity a qualifier to calling a place his own? Was it longevity, since he’d lived here longer than any other place? Maybe the fact that he owned a little cottage on the outskirts of Villa Rosa? More for a place to store his parents’ things than because he wanted a tax write-off.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t sentiment. Aiden was too smart to make decisions based on vague feelings of longing or silly emotions.
Yet, that morning he’d left Coronado Naval Base with a vague plan to take the first plane heading somewhere hot. But he’d hit the airport, and found himself asking for a ticket to San Francisco instead. From there, he’d rented a car and drove the three hours north.
And he still wasn’t sure why.
He just knew something was missing, off.
What, he hadn’t figured out.
Yet.
Driving through the narrow, familiar streets, Aiden watched the people, recognizing many of them. So if he was home, as per some definitions of the concept, why was he still so unsatisfied? What the hell was wrong with him?
Stopped at a red light, he scrubbed one hand over his face and sighed. Or maybe he’d just sleep. Damn, he was tired. This last mission had been a bitch. Rough enough to have him entertaining the rare thought of hanging up his naval uniform and doing something else.
Something chill.
Like sleeping.
That could be the fact that other than zoning out on the hour-long flight, he hadn’t had any shut-eye in about two days. No biggie. Aiden was used to operating at peak efficiency under less-than-ideal circumstances.
Still, sleep would be good.
Or maybe his bunkmate, Castillo, had been right when he’d told Aiden to go get laid on leave.
Sex had definite appeal.
But sex in Villa Rosa? Not such a hot idea.
He returned a couple of waves, even though he didn’t know the people’s names. Of course, they probably didn’t know his either. In a town the size of Villa Rosa, waves didn’t tend to be personal. They were more a random greeting offered to friend and stranger alike. Or a warning that yes, they’d seen his vehicle and were noting his license number. Just in case.
Or maybe too much time in the Middle East, facing distrust, destruction and despair had gotten to him.
Maybe that’s why he’d felt the need to see this place. Because nothing in his life was personal, and he was starting to wonder why.
Including sex.
His stomach growled, making itself heard over the Stones pounding out of the radio. A timely reminder that once he reached the cottage, his cupboards were gonna be bare.
So when the light turned green, he turned left instead of going straight, deciding to get a few things to tide him over. At least until tomorrow, when he’d visit the Professor and get some real food.
Thinking of the old guy made him smile. It’d be good to catch up. Visit. Talk about things that required brains, not brawn. Get his ass kicked at chess and expand his mind a little. He could always count on Professor Lee Taylor for all of that.
Parking in front of the small grocer’s, Aiden pocketed the keys and headed for beer and cereal. All he’d need, he decided, to last until he could hit the old guy up for eggs Benedict in the morning.
“Well, well, look at the soldier boy.”
