Jared fought Denver traffic on I-25. Every delay prolonged his arrival home that much longer.

Home.

The single word settled his anxious heart. He’d been gone for nearly a decade, but Weatherton, Wyoming would always be home. The few days’ visits he’d had sporadically since enlisting would never be enough to fill the void.

He needed the wide-open spaces and blue skies that stretched for miles on end. He craved the small-town atmosphere where time stood still in a place where neighbors cared for each other and people showed respect for everyone, no matter their differences.

If he were honest, he even missed the gossip mills fueled by old ladies with good intentions, and the brutal winters that brought whipping winds and feet of snow.

Because home was home, and he’d take the good with the bad.

He hadn’t told his mom or sister that he was coming. Until he’d left Louisiana after Evan and Janie’s wedding, he hadn’t been sure he’d come.

A part of him feared he put too much stock in coming home. Evan and Janie, even Wyatt, had agreed a change of scenery would be the best course to help him recover. Jacksonville held too much temptation, too little accountability.

His family, however, knew nothing about his behavior of late. As far as they knew, he was still their favorite son: upstanding citizen, a combat veteran, and a hero for serving his country. If they only knew the truth and how far he’d fallen.

But he was determined to change, to put the past behind him once and for all. He hadn’t touched a drop of beer or whiskey since that night before Evan had picked him up and taken him to his truck. Only sheer will had kept him sober, but every day he found it harder to resist.

When Evan and Janie’s wedding fell at the beginning of his terminal leave, he’d decided to spend the rest of August in Weatherton. Yet, that would require an explanation to his mom and sister. What would they think of him?

A smile settled on his face. They’d take him into their arms and tell him they loved him, that they’d be there to support him in any way they could. He knew unequivocally that his mom and Cara would stand by his side, even if they disagreed with the wrong turn he’d taken.

Sooner than he expected, Denver reflected in his rearview mirror. He continued north, and when he crossed into Wyoming, he rolled down his windows to breathe in the air. Won’t be long now. His mom’s return to Weatherton after living in New Mexico for several years made visiting his family easier. During the New Mexico years, he’d always been torn on where to spend his leave time. He’d wanted to see his mom, but Cara needed him.

He reached Cheyenne, which blessedly had little traffic, especially compared to what he’d driven through in Denver. His exit approached, and he headed west toward Weatherton. He could have stopped to fill his fuel tank and pick up a drink for his parched throat, but he had enough diesel to make it home and a warm bottle of water to drink. The closer he got, the more desperately he wanted to be there.

Memories of his last trip to Weatherton flooded his mind. Forever and a day ago, it seemed, but man, the trip had been a blast. He’d picked his mom up from the airport, and they’d surprised Cara on Christmas Eve. The visit had turned into a celebration of Cara’s engagement to Jase McCade, and then an impromptu wedding.

Cara insisted she couldn’t get married without him present, but he wouldn’t be able to come home again until after the deployment. Neither Cara nor Jase wanted to wait that long, so they’d decided to marry New Year’s Eve.

Their two-year anniversary was in a few months, and Jared hadn’t seen them since. After that final deployment, he couldn’t bring himself to go home. He hadn’t been alone. Wyatt and Evan had stayed in Jacksonville, too. They’d needed the support of each other in a way only someone who’d gone through their experience could give.

Looking back, he wondered if he’d made the wrong choice. Could leaning on his family have brought him out of the pit instead of sinking further in? What’s done is done. What good would second-guessing himself do now?

All that mattered was that he was on a mission to heal. Every decision he made, every action he took, would be based on how it affected him long-term. No more quick fixes that filled him with shame and regret.

He needed real solutions, and going home topped the list. He’d only told a select few—those he thought would understand—but one friend from the squadron had accused him of running away from his problems, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, he was facing them head on.

By going home, he was placing himself in a situation where he couldn’t slide into old habits. Mom and Cara would offer unconditional love, but they wouldn’t hesitate to hold him accountable once he told them what he’d been going through.

His mom came from a family of teetotalers. She wouldn’t allow any liquor into her home, including that which had already been consumed. If it wasn’t rubbing alcohol, it didn’t make it past her doors.

He laughed at a memory that surfaced though it hadn’t been funny at the time. The summer of his junior year of high school, he’d gone to a party and not realized the punch had more than fruit juice and lemon-lime soda. He was unknowingly drunk by the time a friend dropped him off later that night.

When he stumbled into the house, Mom sent him right back out with a blanket and pillow and made him sleep on the porch. He’d had a hard time convincing her the next morning that he hadn’t realized he’d been drinking. Only once she’d called the parents of the kids involved was she satisfied.

The incident had humiliated him at the time. How could his mother do that to him? Even though it had happened mid-summer and was largely forgotten about when school started, he hadn’t been invited to any more parties by that group.

His mom’s prayers and guidance—in some late-night talks—had turned the social tragedy into a life lesson. He’d become more aware of his surroundings—getting to know people before drinking their Kool-Aid—and the next morning’s hangover had thoroughly convinced him to steer clear of alcohol.

Until Mike died, and he found relief in a bottle. Until then, he’d never had any regrets so extreme that he wanted to obliterate them from his life.

He looked down at his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel. Loosening his hold, he shifted his thoughts to happier times. He remembered riding his bike down the street while Cara tried to catch up on her pink bike with a white wicker basket on the front.

Images materialized of all the happy holidays they’d shared as a family before his father died when he was eleven. Dad had loved holidays and went to extremes to make them special. Their house had always been the one people drove out of their way to see, with all the Christmas lights and decorations. At Easter, he’d put a cross in the front yard with a cardboard “tomb” with the stone rolled away. Pumpkins, hay bales, and scarecrows filled their porch every September through November.

His father’s death had been terrible, but even that hadn’t affected Jared like Mike’s death. Dad died from a heart attack, and while it took everyone by surprise since he’d always been the picture of health, he hadn’t suffered. It had been instant, unlike Mike’s death which had been slow and painful. Dad had lived a longer life, started a family. Mike never had that chance, and left behind a young widow. More so, Jared didn’t blame himself for his Dad’s death like he did with Mike’s. The guilt added a new dimension to what was already an unbearable grief.

And just like that, he’d slipped into his negative thought patterns. Why was it so hard to keep his mind from wandering there? How could he move forward with his thoughts held ransom?

That’s why I’m going home. Mom will know how to help. She always knows the right thing to say and do.

Weatherton came into view, and a new round of nerves erupted in his stomach. A few years ago he would have prayed, but not anymore. God had better things to do than help a loser like him.

Odd, how he never questioned God’s existence and why He hadn’t prevented Mike’s death. He couldn’t bring himself to deny His presence, nor blame God for the tragedy. Sometimes things happened, and sometimes they happened because of the actions of others. In Mike’s case, he was on that helicopter because Jared had made the decision to goof off and get hurt as a result.

Man, he wished he could shut off his brain sometimes. A lot of times.

He pulled into the driveway of his childhood home, glad that it hadn’t left the family when Mom moved to New Mexico. Going home to the house he’d grown up in had a calming effect that he didn’t imagine would exist in an unfamiliar dwelling. Here, his memories of more innocent times could wrap him in a comforting balm.

His mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Mrs. McCade, Jase’s mom, lived next door, and he thought about walking to her house, but she’d be on the phone with his mom as soon as he left. He wanted to surprise his mom, and Mrs. McCade, bless her heart, would ruin that. Chances were, she’d already seen him sitting in the driveway. When Cara became her daughter-in-law, she’d adopted Jared as a second son as well. She’d even sent him care packages during his deployment and encouraging notes when he’d come home.

He grabbed his phone and dialed his mom.

The line connected, and he heard static for several seconds before she answered. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mom.” He glanced out the windows. “What are you doing?”

“Coming home from a shopping trip in Cheyenne with Cara. How was the wedding?”

“It was nice.” He knew she’d want details, but he could tell her later in person. “When will you be home?”

“In about fifteen minutes, but I have to run out at four to pick my car up from the shop. I dropped it off this morning for new tires. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait until later.” A smile curled his lips. He’d get to see his mom and sister in minutes. “Give me a call when you get home.”

“I sure will. I love you. Talk to you soon.”

“Love you, too.” See you soon.

While he waited, he scrolled through his social media accounts, quickly got bored, then sent Evan and Wyatt each a text letting them know he’d made it home. He chuckled, suddenly amused at the contact he kept with his closest friends. How many grown men let each other know they’d arrived somewhere safely? But they weren’t merely friends—they were family.

Sixteen minutes later, he saw Cara’s car coming down the road. The moment they saw his truck sitting there, she sped up. Right before they came to the driveway, Cara must have slammed on the brakes, and after she slowed down, she jerked into the driveway.

He climbed down from his truck’s cab, crossed his arms and leaned casually against its tailgate. When his mom and sister’s squeals assailed him as they were jumping out of the car, he couldn’t keep his cool. A broad grin spread across his face, and he opened his arms to simultaneous hugs.

His mom stepped away, wiped away a tear, and then tweaked his cheek. “Why didn’t you say you were here?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“That you did.” She hugged him again. “Feel free to pull off that surprise anytime you want to.”

Cara tugged on his sleeve. “How long are you home for?”

He drew a long breath before answering. “For the rest of August.”

“For real?” Cara’s eyes widened, and she looped an arm through his. “I really get to see you for more than a few days?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Enough standing around.” His mom winked. “Help me carry my bags in the house, and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Cara didn’t leave his side as they walked to her car. “You have to come spend some time at the Bar M. Jase and Tate will want to see you.”

“Of course.” He reached for the bags his mom handed him and saw they were all from a baby store. “What’s all this?”

When no one answered, he glanced from his mom to Cara and tilted his head. “You?”

She shook her head. A shadow clouded her eyes. “No. Lanie, Tate’s wife. We’re hosting a shower for her next week.”

“I’m sorry.” His heart sank with the reminder he wasn’t the only one who’d experienced hardships.

After a miscarriage last year, Cara had only recently decided she was ready to try again. She didn’t talk about it much with him, but he’d heard the pain in her voice the few times she had.

“It’s okay. I’m happy for Lanie, and since we both live at Bar M now, I’ll be able to get my baby fix anytime.” Her smile was a bit too forced for his liking.

He carried the bags to the house and waited for his mom to unlock the door. Once inside, he deposited the load on the counter and inhaled deeply. The house smelled like a freshly baked apple pie with extra cinnamon added—the scent he always associated with home. Even during the years Cara lived here alone, the aroma never left. Granted, his sister could bake a pie to please the harshest critic, so no artificial scents were needed during her residency.

Mom opened the freezer and peered inside before pulling out a pack of ground beef. “I’ll make shepherd’s pie if that sounds good to you.”

“You know it’s my favorite.” He laid a kiss on her cheek. “And no one makes it like you.”

Two hours later, after he’d gone with Cara to pick up their mother’s car and brought it home, he sat down at the table to eat. Savored two heaping portions of the shepherd’s pie. His mom had made homemade biscuits to go with dinner, and although his stomach was full, he grabbed another from the basket.

As he sliced one in half and then slathered it with butter, he felt two pairs of eyes on him and raised his head to see his mom and sister staring at him. He dropped the biscuit to his plate. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re home.” His mom took the napkin from her lap and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. She gave him that smile that said I love you, but we have to talk. “But you’ve never come home for this long, and I see the shadows in your eyes.”

A quick glance at Cara’s face told him she agreed with their mom. Had they talked about him in the kitchen or was it that obvious?

The time to come clean faced him head on. This was why’d he’d come home, wasn’t it? To confide in them and lean on them for support. To break away from his downward spiral and find his way back.

He suddenly lost interest in the biscuit, pushed the plate away, and gulped down the remainder of his water. His hand shook, causing the glass to rattle when he set it down. “I’m not okay, and I need your help.”