By Ivy Jordan
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Ivy Jordan
Chapter One
Liam
Wow. The small town where I grew up had hardly changed. I walked along the cobblestone path, soaking in nostalgia. The hardware store, the bank, even the uneven clang of the church bells: it was all the same.
I could’ve stepped off a time machine, and nothing would’ve been different. It was the same town I grew up in, the same one where I rode my bike through the streets, where I turned in bottles for spare change, and where I’d received my first kiss.
“Liam!” a familiar voice called my name.
I turned, carefully studying Aiden’s face, a face I hadn’t seen in years, one I’d missed terribly.
“Holy shit,” I said, opening my arms to embrace my best friend.
“What are you doing back in town?” he questioned, his eyes wide and curious.
I sighed. I hated to admit I was homesick, but that was the true reason I stood in front of the Super Dollar Store on the same street where I once punched Aiden in the face for calling me a coward. I loved my position with the NFL, and I was finally making serious bank. But the offer for this job came along, and even though it was less pay, longer hours, and far less glamorous, it was in Del Rio, Texas, my hometown.
“I’m working for Senator Kline,” I explained quickly, leaving out any mention of being homesick.
“You’re a politician now?” he gushed, his cheeks turning red with excitement.
I shrugged him off, gave a quick laugh, and shook my head. “Not quite. I was hired as a personal bodyguard,” I smirked.
“Wow, Mr. Big,” he teased, his smile fading as quickly as it appeared.
“I figured I could keep your ass in line too while here,” I said as I patted my friend on the back.
“So, you’re stickin’ around for a while?” he asked, his tone somewhat shaken and odd.
I nodded but was unable to make direct eye contact with Aiden. He was acting strange, but I hadn’t seen him much since he’d been injured.
“Have you been to the old house, yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I admitted.
My truck was parked a few feet from where we stood, and everything I owned was shoved inside. It was sad, really, how little I’d accumulated since leaving the SEALs. I’d drifted for a while, not sure where I wanted to settle down or if I was ready. Now, I was here, home, but I still didn’t feel settled—or ready.
“Fuck, you’re one tall son of a bitch,” I teased, looking up at Aiden.
He had to be every bit of six-five. His skin was dark from his Hispanic heritage and the scalding Texas sun, and his eyes as blue as the Texas sky. We’d talked here and there over the years, but this was the first time I’d laid eyes on him since he was carried off on a stretcher. I was glad to hear he was home, safe, and that his injuries would eventually heal. I assumed they had; I’d never asked, and staring at him now, he looked healthy, just somewhat standoffish and awkward.
“You’re just short,” he snorted.
“I make up for height with muscle,” I smiled, slapping my thick bicep.
Aiden shook his head, his grin growing as he smacked his hand against my back. “You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving,” I growled.
Food was the reason I came into town before visiting my old house. I knew it was empty, probably filled with dust, and I wasn’t ready to be alone—not that alone.
Aiden guided me towards the old diner where we used to sit as kids and drink milkshakes with our bottle money.
“This place hasn’t changed at all,” I mentioned as he opened the glass door, sounding the small bell above it.
He laughed, his eyes passing quickly past mine and towards the counter. I followed his eyes as they fixated on what was in front of him. Shit, Ms. Martinez.
The woman with long dark hair tied so tight in a braid that her face looked stretched got up from her stool, turning towards Aiden and myself. My chest ached from the tension as her eyes rested on mine, dark and cold. “Aiden,” she smiled without breaking her glare on me.
“How are you, Maria?” he greeted.
Maria? Were they that close? Even when I dated her daughter, Alyssa, I never called her Maria.
“I’m great,” she replied, still glaring in my direction.
“Good to see you,” I stammered.
Heat swelled around my neck as the tension between us grew. I watched her dark eyes flinch slightly, and then her lips twitch as they pursed together to form her response.
“I assume you’re just passing through?” she hissed.
“No, ma’am. I’m here for-uh-for a while,” I stuttered.
Her eyes were disapproving, but I couldn’t blame her. I’d broken her daughter’s heart twelve years ago when I left for the SEALs. She shook her head and then moved past us towards the door. Aiden didn’t seem shocked by her behavior, simply taking an empty stool at the counter.
My heart was racing from the encounter, but I managed to shrug it off and take the empty green metal barstool next to Aiden’s without my knees buckling beneath me.
“She’s still intense as ever,” I sighed.
Aiden laughed. “Maria, she’s not so bad.”
“Yeah, Maria, what’s with that?” I questioned.
He turned towards me, quickly pulling eye contact away before he could answer. A plump redheaded woman stood in front of us, a pad and pencil in her hand, and stains of something brown smeared across her uniform collar. “What can I get you, boys?” she chomped.
I’d dreamed of the greasy burgers served in this shit hole for days. “Three burgers, extra cheese, extra grease, large fries, and a Coke,” I grinned.
Aiden ordered the same and then spun the metal display in front of him, pretending to read the daily specials. I knew he was avoiding the question asked earlier, but I decided not to push. Maybe he had a thing with Ms. Martinez; who was I to judge? She was smoking hot, even for an older lady.
“I always liked Ms. Martinez, but you’d think after twelve years, she’d let it go,” I shrugged.
“Some situations just aren’t that easy,” he offered.
Situations? This was a situation?
I’d forgotten what it was like to live in a small town. People stuck together, and I was an outsider, at least for now. I’d change that in time.
An older man sat at the end of the counter, his face so thick with wrinkles it was hard to see his eyes. There was something familiar about him: maybe the old man who ran the hardware store, possibly the clerk at the bank. He stared down the counter at me, his glare similar to that of Ms. Martinez. I looked around, realizing that others in the diner were all staring in my direction, quickly pushing their heads down when I’d turn to catch them. What the fuck?
The waitress dropped off our drinks and then our plates of food without so much as a smile.
“What is wrong with everyone in this town?” I whispered to Aiden.
He picked up a couple fries, shoving them in his mouth before they cooled. It was obvious they were hot, too hot to chew, but he did anyway instead of admitting his pain.
“What do you mean?” he lowered his eyebrows.
“Look around; everyone’s staring like I have two fuckin’ heads or something,” I said quietly.
Aiden took a quick inventory of the room and then turned his attention back to me. “Maybe they’ve never seen a muscle-bound midget before,” he laughed.
“Funny,” I smirked.
I was six-feet, taller than the average male, so his jokes didn’t bother me much. What did bother me was the fact this town—and everyone in it—seemed to be judging me, and I had no idea why.