The Texas Soldier's Son. Karen Whiddon

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       Chapter 2

      That night, even tequila couldn’t dull Kyle’s night terrors. Though he’d never been a fan of alcohol, after the explosion he’d learned that self-medicating helped. The news about Nicole had been another kind of explosion, blowing up everything he’d had left to live for. Though for Nicole, an entire year had passed and she’d gone on with her life, for him it felt like barely a few months had passed. Being in a coma for a long time had that effect on a person.

      He’d never seen this betrayal coming. Not in a million years. In a shaky world full of snipers and IEDs, Nicole’s love had been the one constant, the one certainty he’d believed he could count on. Clearly, their relationship had been nothing but a lie to her.

      He drank enough to pass out, alternating with beer, before switching to the more potent moonshine. Once he couldn’t see straight, he staggered into the bedroom and the lumpy mattress that had come with the house and let his body fall onto the bed.

      He prayed and hoped for at least a couple of hours oblivion, knowing he’d be lucky to get even that. But when he sat straight up in bed with a gasp, while thunder cracked and boomed outside, he hadn’t been surprised to find himself automatically reaching for his weapon. Thunder sounded like explosions. It took him a full twelve seconds to realize the flashes of light were actually lightning, accompanying the roar of steady rain.

      A storm. East Texas thunder boomer. Like someone had sliced a hole in the clouds and let the water all dump out at once. It didn’t rain like this in Afghanistan. Proof positive that he was home, that it all hadn’t been a dream.

      And then he remembered Nicole. The pain slicing through his gut had him doubling over, nausea coming in waves. Racing for the bathroom, he barely made it before retching up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.

      Once he thought he was done, he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash and went back to bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying to shut down his brain. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what a cluster his life had become.

      He’d rented this house for six months, paying cash in advance including the deposit. According to the rental contract, he had to stay there the entire time or forfeit the money. He supposed he could walk away, but the truth of the matter was he had nowhere else to go. Anniversary was his hometown, where he’d grown up, gone to school and planned to settle and raise his own kids someday.

      Kids. Another jolt, straight to the heart. The only woman he’d ever wanted to have children with now had one of her own, with another man.

      Covering his eyes, he listened to the storm raging outside, matching the emotions inside.

      Finally, he must have fallen asleep. When he next opened his eyes, sunshine streamed through the bedroom windows, relentlessly cheerful. With the morning came clarity. He knew what he had to do. Find Nicole and demand an explanation. She owed him that at least.

      Since he hadn’t had time to stock the place with groceries, he decided he’d head downtown and have breakfast at the café. A couple of cups of coffee and some fried eggs, biscuits and gravy, and bacon would do wonders to banish the lingering nausea from the night before.

      Stepping outside, the humidity and heat made him smile. Another sign he was home, because the desert heat had been brutal and dry. This was Texas, familiar and welcome.

      Downtown hadn’t changed a bit. He lucked out and found a parking space right in front of the café. Inside, he saw Trudy Blevins, self-dubbed nosiest woman in Anniversary, apparently interviewing customers for either her newspaper column or her radio segment. Huge, flamboyant earrings swung from her ears and she chewed gum in between talking. Though he kept his back to her, he found the sight of her oddly reassuring. Proof that some things at least, never changed.

      Taking a seat at the countertop, he grinned when the owner Jed Rodgers caught sight of him and did a double take. Jed made a beeline for him, hand outstretched. “Let me shake your hand,” the older man exclaimed. When Kyle went to shake, instead Jed pulled him close for a quick guy hug. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life. Everyone thought you were dead.”

      Kyle ducked his head. “Clearly, I’m not. What I am, though, is starving.”

      “Tell me what you want.” Jed got out his order pad. “Whatever you get, it’s on the house.”

      Touched, Kyle thanked him and placed his order. Jed carried it to the kitchen, returning with a mug and the pot of coffee. “Here you go. You still drink it black, right?”

      “Yep.” The first sip tasted like it always had, strong and rich. “I don’t know what kind of coffee you brew, but it’s the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”

      Jed acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. People had been after him for years to reveal his coffee’s secret. He claimed it was a secret he planned to carry to the grave.

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