Page 46 of Forest Reed
Liam James
The Harley’s engine echoed against the empty highway, a low, steady growl beneath me as I headed toward the mountains. I didn’t know why I was going there exactly—maybe to shut Fraiser up, maybe because part of me was tired of running from the ghosts in my head. Either way, the road had a way of making me think about things I didn’t want to.
Five years. That was how long it had been since Sandy tore my heart out and stomped on it for good measure. Five years since she married my brother while I was halfway across the world dodging bullets and hauling my teammates out of firefights. Love, trust, marriage—those words didn’t mean much anymore. Not to me.
The wind cut through my leather jacket as I leaned into the next turn. Fraiser called almost every day, telling me to come see the place he’d been bragging about since I first met him.
“You’ll love it here,” he said. “It’s quiet. Peaceful.”
Peaceful wasn’t something I trusted. Peaceful usually came right before all hell broke loose.
Still, I couldn’t shake the curiosity. Fraiser claimed half the guys had settled here—Max with his perfect wife and theirpicture-book bed-and-breakfast, Forest running trails like he was still twenty, even Jack Raider and his little family lived there. They all had roots now. Lives.
Me? I had a bike, a duffel bag, and a list of regrets long enough to wrap around the damn mountain. I have a pick-up truck I left at my Dad’s, and five brothers I haven’t seen in five years. Because I haven’t been home.
I stopped at a gas station at the base of the road leading up. The old man behind the counter eyed me like I was trouble, which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely wrong.
“You heading up to Fraiser Mountain?” he asked as I filled the tank.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Lots of old Navy boys up there. Good folks. Kinda keep to themselves.”
I grunted in reply. People always said that about us—good folks, until you dug deep enough to find the scars.
Back on the road, the mountain air grew cooler and sharper. Pines lined the highway like soldiers at attention, and for the first time in months, maybe years, my shoulders eased a little. I didn’t have anyone breathing down my neck here. No missions. No betrayals waiting back home. I retired from the Seals and still haven’t settled anywhere.
I thought about Fraiser’s last call:
You’ll like it here, Liam. There’s this little town, a tight-knit community. Some new folks, too. One woman came outta nowhere with her little girl—keeps to herself. Pretty as hell, though. Looks like she’s hiding something.
He’d said it casually, but I’d heard the unspoken words.This town’s got stories. Some good, some bad.
I’d seen enough of both to last a lifetime.
The sun dipped lower as I neared the top. A couple of trucks passed me going the other way—locals heading home,maybe. I wondered what they thought of the new guys on the mountain, the ex-SEALs who carried too much history in their eyes. All except Fraiser, this mountain has been in his family for generations.
One thing was certain—by the time the sun went down, I’d have a beer in my hand, old teammates around me, and at least for one night, the past shoved into a corner where it couldn’t reach me.
I just didn’t know that before the night was over, a red-haired woman with haunted eyes and a daughter to protect would slam right into my life.
And nothing on Fraiser Mountain—or in my heart—would ever be the same again.
40
Liam
Irolled my bike onto Fraiser Mountain, where my Navy SEAL buddies lived. I figured I’d stop by to see them, hoping Fraiser would leave me alone. He called me daily, urging me to come here. One small mountain town looked just like the others, except that a bunch of former Navy SEALs lived on this mountain.
I let my Harley roar as I approached the bike shop that the guys owned. I saw Fraiser walk out and grin, then Max and Forest came out. I pulled up and smiled. They each gave me a man hug, and all of them started talking at once.
I hoped they wouldn’t bring up Sandy. She’s been gone for five years, and no, she’s not dead—she is to me. We were engaged, and she married my brother while I was in Afghanistan. I heard a woman screaming and saw a smaller Harley coming right at us.
I jumped in front of her and braced myself as I stopped the bike. Before I could catch her, she fell off. Fraiser picked her up, and she looked at me. Her bright red hair, which was coming out of her ponytail, had dirt and twigs in it.
“Thank you!” she said before turning to look at Fraiser. “The brakes are out. I just dropped Cleo off at school, and I couldbarely stop to let her off. It’s a good thing she jumped off before I hit some kids. Can you fix it before I have to pick her up?”
Fraiser scratched his head. “Why don’t you drive your car to pick her up?”
