Page 1 of Everlasting Love

PROLOGUE

SHANE

I never wantedto be like my father.

I know, more often than not, kids strive to emulate one or both of their parents, but I never once wanted to be like mine.

He’s military through and through—hell, his entire family is—and while he may have come back from fighting overseas, he never reallycame back. His body may be here, and he may work in a job he doesn’t particularly enjoy to pay the bills, but his mind is still lost on the battlefield thousands of miles from home.

Throughout most of my life, he’s been trapped in memories instead of making new ones with a wife and son who love him.

Sadly, I knew I would never escape following in my father’s footsteps. The assumption that I would join the army weighed heavily on my shoulders. There was no way I could be the first to break the chain of the generations that came before me, and in all honesty, I didn’t want to break away from tradition. I wanted to prove that I could go to battle and return unchanged.

I didn’t want to be a shell of a man when I came home.

I thought I’d be different.

I thought my mind was stronger.

But I didn’t understand what war does to a man.

PART ONE

two years ago …

1

SHANE

I laughed today.It wasn’t forced, and it wasn’t for show to make my friends and family feel better. It burst from deep within and across my lips unbidden.

It was genuine and felt …completely foreign.

And I immediately drowned in guilt so deep I thought I’dstop breathing.

2

SHANE

With the warmsun at my back, I take the two steps up to the brown-painted double doors of the tan brick building. This place—or rather some of the people inside—has saved my life on more than one occasion, and now that I’m somewhat back on my feet, I like to visit regularly so I can give back where I can. The nondescript exterior of the building gives nothing away as to what’s inside, but every single person who enters knows how important this place is and is grateful for its very existence.

A simple brass sign to the left of the large doors is engraved with two words:The Bunker.

The name is more than fitting. Just as a bunker is a safe place during turmoil, so is this place. However, the turmoil that leads men and women to these doors isn’t from outside forces but from within. Battles that were once fought on a bloody battleground have now taken up residence in the minds and souls of the survivors, and it’s not so easy to leave it all behind. What happened to each of us, and the experiences we were subjected to, have left us fundamentally changed. Scarredin ways we don’t know how to assimilate, how to accept, or how to move forward from. But through it all, we know we can come here at any time of the day or night and find someone to talk with, or if we don’t feel like talking, we can sit or spend time here knowing we’re not alone.

As I breach the doorway, a sense of calm washes over me and my façade falls away. I don’t have to pretend that everything’s great here. I don’t have to pretend that my skin doesn’t feel too tight when I’m walking down the street, and I don’t need to fake smiles to make the people around me think that I’m not fundamentally different from how I wasbefore.

Before everything turned to shit.

To be fair, I think I’ve turned a corner. Life doesn’t always feel so damn heavy, and it doesn’t feel like a mammoth task to climb out of bed each day. I’m beginning to see color again, and some days I feel like maybe I can fit back in with society.Somedays.

“Sutton,” Nix calls as I step into the large café area immediately to the right when I enter. While everyone here has experienced some horrific shit, he’s theonlyman here who knowsexactlywhat I’ve been through because he was there the afternoon everything fell apart and my life changed forever. He’s my former Sergeant and has been integral in my progress. I’ll always be grateful for his support and compassion.

I weave around several tables in the open space to reach him. When I do, I place the box of spray paint on the table and hold out my hand so I can pull him into my body and slap him on the back. “Steele. Good to see you.”

“You too. It’s been a while.” Our schedules haven’t lined up for quite some time; he’s been busy with his security business, and I’ve been busy working for my long-time friend and now famous musician, Toby Summer. He gestures toward the chair opposite. “Join me?”

“Sure, I’ll grab a coffee.” I place my order at the counter and carry my coffee back to Nix’s table, then take a seat moving the box of paint to the floor. “How’s business?”

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