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1
HUXLEY
“Lumber, new diamond drill bits, ten sheets of sixty-grit sandpaper, and enough screws to fill a bucket. Anything else on Wilder’s list?” I ask Cassian.
He’s staring straight ahead, watching the scenery pass by as we drive down the mountain on a supply run. My fellow ex-Army Ranger and friend has hardly spoken since we joined Wilder up here in the Smoky Mountains.
Cassian grunts and shakes his head no, just once. His face is as hard as stone, and the angle of his nose and chin is more pronounced, with his face half covered in shadows. That’s as good of an answer as I’m going to get, so I simply nod and turn up the radio.
Dust in the Wind by Kansas fills the truck's cab, and I can’t help the wry smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. How appropriately depressing. The familiar lyrics hit me differently after our last mission overseas.
Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind. Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea, all we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see.
An apt description of what all four of us felt after returning stateside for the last time. Wilder, Cassian, Elliot, and I went through hell and back to evacuate that town before more destruction was unleashed, and yet…
I inhale a deep, cleansing breath, taking in the trees and foliage lining the dirt road winding down the mountain. It’s stunning up here in the Smokies. It’s a harsh kind of beauty, softened only by the fog settling in the treetops.
We’re all here now, and that’s all that matters. Well, almost all of us. Wilder, Cassian, and I sustained several injuries. I required multiple surgeries, but Elliot had it the worst. The doctors weren’t sure if he would walk again, but he’s made amazing progress over the last several months. He should be joining us soon, though he’ll still have to go to physical therapy a few times a week until he’s all healed up.
I drive past the first sign for the tiny town at the base of the mountain, chuckling to myself at the name. Rock Bottom. I wonder if it’s a play on words because of its location, or perhaps named a hundred and fifty years ago, when that didn’t mean what it does today. Either way, it seems the name foreshadowed what the town would become.
Aside from a bar, a general store that doubles as the shoe and clothing store, the post office, and a hardware store, there isn’t much holding this town together. Some residents are farmers and cattlemen, while others simply collect Social Security checks and spend them at the bar.
I’ve only driven through once on my initial trek up the mountain, but that’s all it took to understand it’s the kind of place where dreams go to die. I imagine it would be difficult for anyone to make their way out of this impoverished place with no opportunities and a failing economy.
Cassian shifts in his seat, and I know he’s getting restless. He doesn’t like being cooped up for too long. I get it. We spent years in close quarters, either in barracks or tents. When we weren’t crammed together inside, we were literally in the trenches together.
All four of us came back from the Rangers broken in different ways. Physically, we’re mostly healed, aside from Elliot. But emotionally? Mentally? I don’t know if we’ll ever recover. Or at least, I have doubts about my own healing.
Something that seems to trigger Cassian’s PTSD these days is cramped spaces. I was surprised he came with me on this trip, but I suppose he only did it because Wilder was preoccupied with his new woman, Ari, and Cassian knew I’d need some help hauling the lumber into the back of the truck.
I sure wasn’t expecting Wilder—the grumpy loner of an ex-soldier who had the crazy idea of moving out to the Smoky Mountains and buying an old mining town—to find himself a woman. I thought the whole point of building our own town away from society was to, well… be away from society.
Ari is sweet and caring, and she’s been good for Wilder; that much is clear. He’s more stable, less of a grump, and genuinely content with his life. I envy him for that. I still feel stuck in some kind of purgatory. I haven’t quite left the military behind, at least in my mind, yet at the same time, I haven’t fully accepted my new life as a civilian.
Where does that leave me? Plastering a smile on my face while I help my friends adjust, that’s where. I may have my own demons from our last mission, but Cassian needs me to be steady right now. I have a feeling Elliot will also need a lot of encouragement. He’s as bitter as hell, and he’s not quiet about it.
The dirt road ends at a stop sign, and I turn left onto a rough gravel road leading into town. Ten minutes later, we enter Rock Bottom. I see a coffee shop I didn’t notice before. Maybe my initial judgments about this town were off. The sign boasts five years of service and looks modern, as does the building. Maybe this place isn’t as horrible as I first thought.
Main Street runs through the entire town, all twelve miles of it. All the shops are on the North end, which is closest to the mountain. I pull into Gregg’s Hardware, a little skeptical if they’ll have everything we need.
Cassian leaps out of the truck the second I put it in park, clearly anxious to get out into the open. He stretches his arms and rolls out his shoulders, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. I feel for him. War changed all of us.
I head inside the store, letting Cassian take his time outside. I swing the front door open, triggering a tinkling bell above it. Walking inside, I’m pleasantly surprised by the extensive inventory and how well the aisles are labeled. I notice everything appears to be meticulously organized, which is another surprise. I guess I also judged this place too soon.
I grab a basket and make quick work of our shopping list, minus the wood, which we’ll need to get at the lumber yard in the next town. As I head up to the counter, I get a whiff of a delicate, sweet scent. Like some kind of exotic flower or…
Holy shit. Who is that?
A woman is leaning against the counter behind the register, engulfed in whatever book she’s reading. A few strands of her auburn hair come loose from where she had them tucked behind her ear, the deep reddish-brown in sharp contrast to her pale, porcelain skin. From this angle, I can only make out the slight curve of her nose, the silhouette of her full, pouty lips, and the ample curves I’m trying not to ogle. I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. But goddamn… full breasts, wide hips, and from what I can see, thick thighs that would look good wrapped around my hips.
Jesus Christ, get it together, I scold myself.
Blinking a few times, I try clearing my head of those inappropriate thoughts as I approach the counter.
“Hi,” I choke out before coughing. God, I sound like I’m fourteen and just hit puberty.
The woman startles, dropping her book. “Oh!” she exclaims, a look of shock flashing across her emerald eyes. “Sorry,” she apologizes. The way she says it automatically makes me think it’s a habit. That doesn’t sit right with me, but I realize my possessive thoughts are completely out of line.
