“Keep that shit away from me, and away from this town. You want to destroy yourself? Fine. But you’re not bringing it around here, and I want nothing to do with it, you hear?”
I clenched my jaw, resolved. “Don’t worry, dad. I won’t be back. You can count on that.”
He looked at me for a long moment then. “I hope to God that’s not true, son.”
~ ~ ~
It was the last time I’d spoken to him, and now here I was, on my way back home, still wearing my leather cut, still a member of the Inferno MC, although probably not for long. It was also debatable how long I’d be alive. I had no idea what my dad was going to do when he saw us pull up in the driveway, but this was the only place I had to go. I literally had no one else. I’d burned a lot of bridges outside the MC, and this had always been a safe place. It was only temporary, and there were lives at stake other than my own.
April Holder and her daughter Mackenzie followed behind me in the brown minivan, closely trailed by April’s husband Crunch. From the outside, it looked like a caravan of people on a fun family road trip, but this was about as far from that as you could possibly get. You see, I’d been tasked with Crunch’s murder. And we’d just left a fallen brother behind.
June
“Sure you don’t need anything else?” My mountain of groceries was scattered across the checkout counter, enough food for a family of ten even though it was just me, at least for right now. I looked up at “Connie C.,” as everyone called her, the only other occupant in the tiny general store in West Bend. Grey hair swept to the top of her head in a loose bun and a plaid apron tied around her waist, Connie reminded me of my mother. Or what I imagined my mother would look like if she were still alive.
It was like deja vu, coming back here. A memory of my mother baking in her apron flashed before my eyes, and I tried to shake off the momentary feeling of sadness.
The past was the past. There was no sense in crying over it
You knew you couldn’t come back here without all those memories resurfacing.
“No, ma’am,” I said. “I’m sure.”
“Now there, don’t ma’am me,” Connie said as she reached for a stack of bags. “I knew you before you were knee-high to a grasshopper, June. You know my name; there’s no need to get all formal on me. Unless the big city changed you, being a hotshot doctor and all.” Her mouth was turned up at the corners in a teasing smile.
“I hope I haven’t changed that much, Connie C.,” I said. “This place still looks the same. Is Connie P. still over at the hair salon?”
“She is,” Connie said, handing me some bags as she started bagging my groceries. “Still turning old ladies’ hair blue. Don’t know how she stays open. I guess some people never learn. Oh Lord, I don’t guess it feels like coming back to a big city since you’re used to places bigger than this, but West Bend has grown since you left.”
“I noticed,” I said. Connie C. barely paused to breathe before she kept going. I didn’t mind the talking. Incessant chatter from other people rather suited me. I wasn’t much for talking myself, not anymore anyway.
“We’ve got the new traffic light now, and ski season has been bringing in quite a few tourists. They say we’re going to be the new skiing hotspot now, like Crested Butte. Dear Lord, I hope not, all those rich folks coming in, wanting all kinds of exotic foods ordered. Of course, it’s not like I couldn’t use the business. And it’ll do great things for you, won’t it, with the bed and breakfast? That is what you’re doing with Mrs. Crawford’s old place, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Ma’am - I mean, Connie C.,” I said. “I’m hoping I’ll have it all fixed up before ski season this year.”
“Mrs. Crawford kept it up pretty well, even after Mr. Crawford passed,” Connie said. “She got some help with repairs for a while from Mr. Austin. Well, of course you know Mr. Austin.” Her voice trailed off, her last sentence laden with meaning.
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at the mention of the name.
Mr. Austin.
I couldn’t think of Mr. Austin without thinking of his son.
Cade.
Of course I knew the Austins. And I certainly knew Cade. In the most Biblical of senses. Of course, that was before everything that happened, everything that tore me apart.
Everything that tore Cade and I apart.
It was never their fault. You knew you would have to deal with this, coming back here, I reminded myself. You can’t run forever.
That’s exactly what my therapist in Chicago had said. You can change your name, your job, your location, but it won’t reboot your system, she’d said. At some point, you’ll have to stop running.
I was an expert at running. It was like second nature. Better than some other ways of dealing with shit, though, right? Some people drank, took pills, gambled.
Me? When things got tough, I ran.
The problem was, my therapist didn't know the real reason I was running back home. No one knew. Because if anyone knew the real reason I had left Chicago, they wouldn’t see me in the same way. They wouldn’t see me as the good officer, the Navy doctor who had done her duty, completed her tours on the ship and in Afghanistan. They wouldn’t see me as the girl who’d made good after her family tragedy, who had gone to medical school, joined the Navy.