And who he wasn’t. The name tags around his neck weren’t his. After the enemy had taken most of the soldier’s dog tags, Hank Smith had managed to hang onto one of his and had pressed it into Kyle’s hand before dying.
No one would believe him at first. Then the IED had ripped their world apart in a single blaze of light. He’d learned Hank had been killed, torn apart by the blast, still wearing Kyle’s dog tags. Kyle had been believed dead.
The only family of his that they could locate, the foster family back in Anniversary, Texas, who had raised him, had already been notified of his passing. Kyle doubted they’d even cared, but he’d worried himself sick about Nicole, the love of his life and the woman he’d planned to marry someday.
He tried to call her, only to learn her cell phone had been disconnected. Her parents number had also been changed and apparently was unlisted,
Briefly, he wondered if she was safe. It had been an entire year since he’d held her in his arms. Through all his seemingly endless deployment, her picture and thoughts of her love had kept him sane. Despite losing the photograph in the explosion, she’d never left his heart or his memory.
These days, he might be all messed up, but he knew she would be able to help him get through this. PTSD, they’d told him, as if that acronym could cover his nightmares and jumpiness, the irritability and constant, pressing fear. Even here, away from the constant sound of gunfire and explosions, any innocent loud sound could have him instantly on alert.
Nicole, Nicole, Nicole. He chanted her name in the middle of night sweats, the double syllables becoming his mantra, the single thing he clung to in order to keep from falling over the edge.
She was his rock.
He hated the fact that she’d been told he was dead. And that he hadn’t been able to reach out to her for so long. He took comfort in the knowledge that her parents would have at least let her know he still lived, even if he was only half the man he’d once been. At least he hoped they’d told her. Since she’d never taken the time to call him, he kind of doubted that they had.
No matter. He’d be setting things straight soon.
The 2013 Chevy Silverado he drove had been one of his lone expenditures. He’d paid cash for the used pickup, knowing he’d need something reliable for the drive west to Anniversary. Excitement jumped inside him, drowning out some of the ever-present anxiety. Excitement and, dare he say, joy. Because soon, he’d be with Nicole. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he knocked on her door, to pull her into his arms and breathe the fresh strawberry scent of her shampoo, to kiss her lips until they both felt as if they were drowning.
In his pocket, he had the only other thing he’d spent part of his savings on. An engagement ring. As soon as he and Nicole got caught up, he planned to get down on bended knee and ask her formally to be his wife.
They’d talked about marrying before he’d signed up for the army. He’d even given her his high school class ring as a token, proof that he was hers and vice versa. She’d taken to wearing it with a long chain around her neck, safely tucked under her shirt so her strict parents wouldn’t see.
God, he loved her. As his truck ate up the miles, he amused himself with imagining several different scenarios when they saw each other for the first time in over a year. His favorite was the one where she hopped into his truck, they drove out to the lake and made love right there in the cab.
Finally, he crossed from Louisiana into Texas. Not too much farther now. The hum of his tires on the asphalt soothed him and he felt more relaxed than he had since the explosion.
When the Anniversary city limits sign came into view, dusk had settled over the sky. The sunset colored the sky pink and orange, promising another hot East Texas day tomorrow. He remembered how everyone liked to complain about the summer heat. It would be a cakewalk compared to the temperatures in Kabul.
Instead of heading toward the small frame home he’d rented via the internet for the next six months, he drove directly to Nicole’s parents’ house, praying she’d be home. Parking out front, he jogged up the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his chest, and rang the bell.
A moment later, the door opened. Nicole’s mother stared at him, frowning. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the rancor in her voice startling.
“I’ve been discharged from the hospital, ma’am,” he said, figuring he’d kill her with kindness. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to see Nicole.”
“Nicole?” She recoiled as violently as if he’d struck her. “Nicole doesn’t live here. She’s over on Broad Street in the house she shared with her husband and son.” A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. “Bill Mabry? I’m thinking you might remember him?”
He hadn’t gotten much past the words husband and son. When he finally caught up, the name Bill Mabry made his stomach churn. That had been the same guy her parents had tried to force her to marry when he and Nicole had been together.
“Well?” The older woman stared, her gaze hard. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?”
For a moment he couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the words out past the huge lump in his throat. Only when she’d started to close the huge oak door in his face did he think of the one other thing he needed to know. “Did Nicole even mourn me at all?”
“Of course not,” she said smoothly, without missing a beat. “Once the army notified your foster family of your death, she’d moved on. She was already married with a newborn by then. I didn’t want to disrupt her life.”
And then she waited, eying him with a certain mocking relish, waiting for him to reveal how devastating he found her answer. He refused to give her the pleasure.
Though his head spun, he turned on his heel, the military precision of the movement kicking in by instinctive habit. Somehow, he made it to his truck, unlocked the doors and slid inside. Turning the key, he started the engine, put the shifter into Drive and pulled away.
He started to head to the park by the lake, the same secluded place he’d intended to take Nicole, but instead he found himself heading toward Broad Street. He still couldn’t believe her mother’s words, couldn’t accept that she hadn’t waited barely any time at all before getting married and pregnant. For her to have a newborn, that meant she’d jumped into bed with this Bill Mabry guy right after getting the erroneous news of Kyle’s demise.
Had he truly meant that little to her?
Anguish turned to anger as he made the turn onto North Broad. Since he had no idea which house she lived in, he drove slowly up the street, feeling more and more like a stalker.
All his hopes, all his dreams, his entire freaking future, he’d pinned on her. On them. Now, she’d left him with nothing.
When he reached the intersection that separated North Broad from South, he made a decision. Why torture himself further with a confrontation? Signaling a right turn, he drove instead to his rental, the place where he’d be living for the next six months.
On the way there, he stopped at the downtown liquor mart and purchased a bottle of tequila, a twelve pack of beer and some moonshine. Thus fortified, he pulled up to his empty house, parked and took a deep breath before carrying his bags inside.
Apparently
