Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Eh. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.” I looked out over the horizon as I drove away from the ranch. Late July in Colorado meant the sun remained bright overhead, although we were getting on toward evening. Summer had a way of fooling a body into thinking winter would never come. I knew all too well the perils of thinking I had all the time in the world. I didn’t. “Wish I’d come back sooner, but all I can do is try to do a good job now.”
“You do good work.” Carson’s tone was factual. He wasn’t the sort to give idle praise. As I turned onto the main rural highway that would take us into Durango, Carson gave a little chuckle. “If wishes were fishes…”
“We’d all be fried.” I joined him in finishing the saying, which was a favorite of his aunt’s. She ran a diner in Lovelorn, so I’d been on the receiving end of her advice more than a few times. “Your Aunt Georgia’s always good for some wisdom. And yeah, I can’t wallow in regrets. Keep marching forward.”
“Embrace the suck.” Carson’s voice took on the hardness of every drill sergeant I’d met. More than a suggestion, the army-based saying was a call to welcome every task from scrubbing toilets to painting miles of hallways to completing endless inventory.
“Ah. You were one of those sergeants.” I laughed. Unlike me, Carson had likely found fulfillment in his military service. From the way his relatives bragged about how he’d risen up the ranks, going from a transport operator to a certified Master Driver to Sergeant First Class in charge of entire transport and cargo missions, he’d been damn good at embracing the suck himself. “I would guess there’s plenty of menial maintenance jobs in the transportation corps to go around as well.”
“No job too small.” Carson chuckled as he continued his spot-on cranky drill sergeant impression.
“Trust me, I did my share of small jobs. I was infantry and only served six active-duty years and two reserve years, so I never advanced into NCO status like you. Did you miss driving in the field as you moved up the ranks? “
“Miss driving now.” His mouth twisted as he looked out the passenger window.
“I bet.” Crap. I hadn’t meant to wander into painful territory.
I flipped on the radio to spare Carson more small talk. My truck was too old for smart anything, so most of the time I made do with the limited assortment of local stations. I landed on a country station playing an older ballad, and Carson made an approving sound.
“Takes me back.” He stretched back in the seat, and I let a comfortable silence settle over us on the remainder of the drive to the community center where the veterans’ support group met.
“We’re here,” I said as I turned into the parking lot. “Do you want me to introduce you around, or do you prefer to hang back?”
I had a feeling which Carson would choose, but I wanted to leave it up to him.
“Hang back.” He gave a self-conscious laugh. “Thanks.”
“No problem. We’ll grab some seats near the door.” I would have happily introduced Carson to all the regulars, but I was also happy to keep to my usual routine of propping up a wall. “I don’t usually share much anyway.”
“I get that.” Again, our eyes met in an understanding that some things were easier to talk about than others. I could talk for hours about horses and random tidbits, but ask me to talk about difficult subjects and my words dried up.
“Jude! Good to see you again.” As usual, Simone had positioned herself near the doorway to the meeting room. She had long black hair, angular features, and the biggest smile in three counties. Her welcoming gaze moved onto Carson, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “And you must be the brother of Colt Jennings. You look alike.”
Simone’s day job was as a community liaison officer with a nearby town’s police department, so it wasn’t surprising that she knew Colt. The Jennings genes were rather strong, with all the brothers having similar coloring and rugged jaw lines.
“Except shorter.” Carson was good at the deadpan jokes. He offered Simone a handshake. “I’m Carson.”
“We’re gonna stake out some chairs off to the side,” I told Simone before she could move into hostess mode and start making introductions.
“Excellent idea.” Simone was highly skilled at picking up on subtext, so she didn’t press for further small talk with Carson. “Glad to have you here.”
Despite the later hour, a coffee pot was set up on a counter toward the back of the multipurpose room, which hosted everything from swing dance lessons to kids’ clubs and meetings like this one. Simone liked to arrange the metal folding chairs in a circle, but she also always set some up near the door and along the sides of the room for those who didn’t feel comfortable circled up.