Page 28 of Coming Home

“Just Graham, son. I was army, too, you know.”

I smiled warmly. “I didn’t. Thank you for you service.”

“And the same to you. Milkshakes are on the house,” he said.

“That’s not necessary,” Shelby told him.

“When one of our own comes home without a visible wound, it’s my honor to welcome him back, Shelby. This is the least I can do.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, before Shelby could protest further. I had learned early on that although humbling, it was important to let others show their thanks for serving as they felt called to do. Arguing it only made you come across as an ungrateful ass. For every person who had bestowed me kindness, I purposefully returned in kind as soon as possible. It may have been as simple as paying for the car behind me going through the drive thru or stopping to help a kid find his ball. Whatever opportunity presented itself I took it, and honestly my job saw entirely too much darkness in this world. Both receiving and spreading a bit of thanks kept me grounded in the light over the years.

“Cherry for you Shelby, and chocolate for Lieutenant Shay. Did I get that title right? How about those drinks? Memory’s not always so great these days,” he said.

“Spot on for both, sir,” I assured him.

We waited by the counter until our milkshakes were ready, then I directed Shelby back to the corner booth we had always sat at.

She had been stiff ever since my bold speech about quitting the army and coming home to her. I’d meant every word of it. Now that I knew without a doubt that Shelby was meant to be mine, I would do everything in my power to be here for her and put a smile on her face every single day of the rest of her life. I still wasn’t sure it would make up for the last nine years we’d missed out on, but it was a start.

I decided to switch tactics and not directly push things for now.

“Dad’s apparently having another surgery tomorrow. Mom’s leaving in the morning to spend some time with him, but the boys and I aren’t going until Friday morning. You mother invited them to Thanksgiving dinner with your family. That was before anyone knew I was coming home. That offer has been extended to me as well. I’ll take your lead on this, sport, just tell me what to do here.”

She took a long sip from her milkshake and sighed. She reached for mine as if on autopilot and took a drink from it, too. I didn’t think she even realized she was doing it. Shelby loved chocolate-cherry anything, but when it came to milkshakes, she claimed the combination was too rich, so she always ordered a cherry vanilla shake then chased it with my chocolate one.

“Of course you and the boys should come to dinner,” she finally said.

I fought down the grin threatening to spread across my face. It felt like my first real breakthrough with her since my return.

“You’re sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” she said.

It was true. Feelings be damned, Shelby had always been open and honest with me.

“I know you would,” I said. “I was just double-checking. And thanks. I’m sure it will help the twins take their minds off of Dad’s surgery.”

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I really am sorry about your dad, Ben. And I can’t believe they are doing surgery on Thanksgiving.”

Her sincerity coupled by the powerful emotions that jolted through me like I’d just been struck by lightning when she touched me were almost too much to bear.

“Thanks,” I managed to say. “Apparently it’s an emergency need and they didn’t want to put it off any longer. We just found out today.”

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

I shrugged. “So far I haven’t let it be real, if you know what I mean.”

“Staying disconnected? Unattached?”

“Exactly. Basic survival 101,” I admitted.

“It’s okay to feel, you know,” she said, sounding worried about me.

I really liked that she cared enough to worry. It gave me hope that things would work out okay for us.

“I feel plenty, Shelby. I’m not entirely numb to the situation, just enough to function through the tough days. It’s a little harder to do here than it is in the field.”

“Because of your family?” she asked.

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