Page 11 of The Hometown Legend

It just wasn’t much was what it came down to. His life, and everything he cared about anymore, fit into a bag.

He could never imagine such a thing a couple of years ago. He’d lived in a beautiful house filled with things. Furniture and decorations and clothes.

The day Cassidy told him to leave the house and not come back, he’d put all the things he wanted into one bag. It had been pretty easy. There was something in that, too. But, he wasn’t in the mood to think on that, either.

It had made this move easy, and that he could be grateful for. He had all the time in the world to rebuild. If he even really wanted to.

There was nothing wrong with living simple.

It appealed to that part of him that still felt like a military man, even though he wasn’t. Even though he never would be again.

He would always be marked by the military. That was for sure.

So he supposed it was fair enough to think of himself that way.

He kept on going.

He was surprised when he saw lights shining through the trees, and when he pulled into the driveway, he saw what was a very neat, bigger-than-expected cabin.

It was all lit up and welcome, and the porch light was on.

He sat in his truck for a long moment, examining that feeling. Of the light being left on for him.

He could remember coming home late in the latter days of his marriage. And that light being off.

Because she wasn’t waiting up. Not anymore.

He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have kept on being there for someone who wasn’t there for her. That was the truth of it. He wasn’t owed endless service just because he’d been wounded serving the country. She was his wife. She had needed things, too.

But damn, he’d missed that sense someone might be waiting for him. More than he cared to admit.

He cleared his throat and got out of the truck, moving around the back and grabbing his duffel bag. He walked up to the steps and looked at the way his shadow cut through the light. He didn’t need to pause and ponder that metaphor. It was self-evident. It was him, all the way around at this point. He was the shadow. If he could’ve just been better, then...

He’d ruined Cassidy’s life. Sometimes that was like acid in his soul.

She married him... In that white dress, looking so beautiful and so full of hope. She was an Army brat. She knew the deal. She was in it for the long haul. She was the kind of woman who could withstand the deployments, the moves, all that stuff. She was perfect. And he had somehow managed to ruin all her dreams.

Because neither of them had really had an idea of what the long haul could mean.

Tragedy happened to other people.

Other menwere broken apart by war.

Other menwere hobbled by brain injuries, PTSD and addiction.

He’d now learned too well that the line separating him fromother menhad been a trip wire. And once it had been activated, everything had been blown to hell. Now there were no lines left.

He was the shadow.

And hell, he couldn’t blame her for keeping the porch light off so she didn’t have to see it anymore.

He shook his head and walked up to the front door. He had a code to open up the padlock that contained the key, centered right there next to the door.

That worked easily and quickly, and it was a weird thing to marvel at such a small detail being easy.

But he wasn’t used to easy. Not at this point.

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