Page 43 of Homecoming

“Anything,” she said, looking around. There was a water pitcher in the center of the table. “I’m fine with water.”

He nodded and motioned for her to stand. There were a few guys moving toward the food already, and she moved behind them, waiting her turn. Owen tried to guide her to the front, muttering ‘you’re the guest’, but she shook her head and stayed where she was.

The guy in front of her glanced back, and it took everything in her not to react to the deep scars on his face. He also seemed to be moving with a limp, and she wondered what the hell had happened to him. They were all former military, she knew that, so she could only imagine.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had prime rib,” she said, low-voiced to the man.

He seemed surprised that she’d spoken to him. He shot her another quick glance, but didn’t turn his face to her again. “Grunt does it up right. Be sure to get a little of the horseradish sauce. He makes it himself.”

“Noted,” she said. “I’m Grace.”

She didn’t hold out her hand because she didn’t think he’d take it.

“I’m Crash,” the guy said, somewhat reluctantly.

Owen was talking to the guy behind him about water pressure, so she turned back forward. They moved through the line, and she was surrounded by light-hearted ribbing and play. Typical boys waiting for food. She was surprised to find actual glass dishes at the beginning of the food line, and real silverware. “My gosh, I can’t imagine all the dishes at the end of the night. I hope he has help.”

Crash nodded. “We all have a rotating list of chores, both inside and outside, just like a regular job. Tonight is not my night though,” he flashed her a grin.

“You lucked out,” she said, grinning back. At least he wasn’t trying to hide his face from her anymore.

Crash spooned food from giant pans onto his plate, and suggested things for her to try. There was no way she had room for everything, though.

“You can come back through as many times as you want. They told us that when we first got here, that we’d never be without food again, and they’ve stuck by that. I’ve gained twentypounds up on this mountain,” he snorted, his face twisting into what she realized was a smile.

Grace blinked. Had he actually said they’d been without food? “What branch were you in?”

He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Uh, Marines.”

“And they didn’t feed you?”

He blinked at her, and she noticed that even though his face was harsh, he had the prettiest blue eyes with long, dark lashes.

“Um… yeah,” he said, voice kind of clipped. He turned abruptly, almost tipping his plate in the process. “I need to get… something.”

And he limped away from her.

Grace frowned, wondering what on earth had just happened. She’d just asked about the Marines. In her experience, Marines loved bragging about their service and the dangerous missions they had or hadn’t done. Old Chester down at the lumberyard wouldn’t shut up about his service and the bullet he took through his leg years ago. They’d all heard the story several times. Maybe Crash didn’t want to talk about his service because that was where he’d been injured and scarred.

“You okay?”

She glanced back at Owen. He was watching her carefully. “Yes, but I think I scared Crash.”

He lifted a dark brow. “How did you scare Crash?”

“He said something about never being without food again, so I asked him what branch he was in and why they hadn’t fed him.”

Owen’s eyes darkened, and he tucked his lips. “Get your food and I’ll talk to you at the table.”

Grace frowned, not liking feeling like she was being reprimanded. It wasn’t worth fighting over, though. She was a guest in their house tonight, and she needed to abide by their rules. Turning, she realized it was her turn at Grunt’s carving station. “This all looks mouthwatering, Grunt,” she said,genuinely excited to take a chunk of the meat. “And Crash said to get a bit of your horseradish sauce.”

Grinning, he spooned a little sauce to the side of her meat. “I think you’ll love it.”

“And my plate is officially full,” she laughed, and stepped away from the line.

It was as good as she’d been told. Better even. The meat melted in her mouth, and the sides were unique and flavorful, not the typical holiday faire. Some of the foods seemed like they were from other countries. After a minute, Owen slid in beside her and started eating as well. Once they’d taken the edge off, he leaned into her space a little.

“I told you that the men had been prisoners of war. I wasn’t exaggerating. Many of them didn’t get food regularly, and they were malnourished to the point of starvation. We keep food available to them at all times.”

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