Page 2 of Wyatt the Military Veteran

There’s a pop in my jaw from grinding my teeth. Dugan is younger than me and still parties like a new military recruit versus a seasoned veteran, but this seems juvenile—even for him.

“It’s your life…” I drawl, forcing my features to remain neutral rather than screwing up in dismay. Out of all the reprimands and warnings going off in my head, it’s the least offensive thing to say, and while I’m technically his commanding officer, what Chris does in his downtime is none of my business.

Too bad that doesn’t stop me from apprehending his letter the moment he exits the barracks.

I stuff it in my pocket and march to my private room like nothing is out of the ordinary. Like I’m not the creepy motherfucker who is so hard up forattention, affection?—I refuse to put a name to it. It’s too pathetic—and digs through another man’s trash for his scrap of kind words.

Fuck!I scrub a hand down my weathered cheek.What the hell did I just do?

CHAPTER TWO

KENNEDY CALDWELL

Three empty chairs surround the square dining table.Another evening where I feel lonelier than ever.Technically, I could drive to one of my four brothers’ homes for company, but it’s not the same as having someone here.

Someone who could have helped me cook dinner.

Someone whowillhelp me eat the leftovers, so I’m not stuck eating cheesy chicken and rice for the next week because recipes are not meant for single people.

Even when I cut the ingredients down, I still end up with more food than I can handle before it goes bad. And that’s coming from a woman who loves to eat.

“Play a trivia game,” I tell the smart speaker on the kitchen counter, shoving my food around the plate with a fork, and a robotic voice starts explaining the rules of the game before asking me a question.

How sad and pathetic is it to substitute a robot for a human?

Desperate measures…

Especially after scrolling social media today and seeing no less than five college acquaintances post about their pregnancies, births, or engagements.

One or two announcements I can handle.

At thirty-one years old, I’ve been through this cycle multiple times with friends popping out their second or third kids, but to see so many momentous occasions in a row? That got me.

“Marie Antoinette.” My answer is correct while the speaker rolls into the next question, and I take a bite of chicken before it gets cold.

If I had exciting news to share, maybe I wouldn’t feel so left behind. But my life hasn’t changed much in the nine years since graduation and moving back home to Suitor’s Crossing to help my brothers run Hearthstone Lodge.

The luxury resort has been in our family for generations—a staple of the town. We offer accommodations for tourists looking to take advantage of the beautiful mountains and hiking trails surrounding us while also providing an upscale space for business retreats, weddings, and anyone else searching for a picturesque setting for their event.

“Tokyo,” I say, completing the ten questions and winning the game.

“Do you want to play again?” asks the speaker.

Ignoring the request since it’ll shut off on its own, I push away my empty plate and pull the stationary kit I set out earlier closer. My life is routine and boring except for this one bright spot—writing Lieutenant Chris Dugan. His mom, Sheree, attends the same church as our family, and she suggested setting us up on a blind date via letters since he’s currently deployed.

I vetoed the idea at first.

What man takes his mother’s advice on women?

It felt like an easy way to embarrass myself and get rejected, but Sheree pushed and prodded until I agreed to send one letter to see where things went.

That was a month ago.

Chris responded to my first letter but not the other three. I didn’t think a letter a week would be too overwhelming, but his radio silence has me second-guessing myself.

“It’s the United States military. Isn’t it par for the course that their mailing system is slow?” I mumble to myself.

There are all sorts of legitimate reasons for not hearing back from Chris. He could be too busy doing his job. He could be undercover somewhere communication is limited. His letters could be lost in the millions of parcels that go out every day.

---