Finding home, p.1
Finding Home, page 1
Finding Home
The Long Road Home, Volume 3
Abbie Zanders and Binge Read Babes
Published by Abbie Zanders, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
FINDING HOME
First edition. August 24, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Abbie Zanders and Binge Read Babes.
ISBN: 978-1393817482
Written by Abbie Zanders and Binge Read Babes.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Finding Home (The Long Road Home, #3)
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue - Six Months Later
Connect with Abbie
Finding Home
Long Road Home, Book 3
Sanctuary, Book 5.5
By Abbie Zanders
Copyright © 2021 by Abbie Zanders
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at https://abbiezandersromance.com
Cover Designer: Cat Johnson
Cover Photographer: Eric McKinney / 6:12 Photography
Cover Model: JD
Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgements
Writing a story is primarily a solo endeavor, but writing a good story and getting it out there is so much easier with supportive, wonderful friends.
Thanks to fellow Binge Read Babes Kris Michaels, Maryann Jordan, Caitlyn O’Leary, and Cat Johnson for including me in this amazing project and letting me hang out with them every week. It is a privilege and an honor.
Thanks to my good friend and fellow author Tonya Brooks, who has always been by my side and always has my back. Love ya, twin.
Thanks to friend and fellow author PJ Fiala for providing her expertise on motorcycle road tripping.
And thanks to all of YOU who picked up this copy of Finding Home. I couldn’t do what I do without you.
Chapter One
Jaxson
When it rained, it poured.
Literally.
Hurricane Helen was moving up the East Coast, dumping tons of rain and putting kinks in the plans of thousands of weary travelers.
Like him.
Jaxson Adams didn’t mind the delay. He wasn’t in any particular hurry to go back to his hometown and face the ghosts he’d been avoiding for the last ten years.
But crowds of obnoxious assholes—those he did mind. They were everywhere. Yapping. Complaining. Demanding. As if the people who worked for the airlines could do anything about the weather.
Jaxson’s tolerance for people in general was low these days, but these self-entitled idiots had him redlining. Tired, cranky, and aching, courtesy of sitting for hours on the cramped transatlantic flight, he needed to get somewhere quieter until the storm passed and he could pick up his connecting flight.
He spotted an older man in a red vest standing off to the side, his expression stoic in the midst of so much inconvenience. The embroidered AIA over his left chest marked him as one of the poor bastards having to deal with angry masses. Jaxson made his way over to him, drawing up short twice when said idiots nearly ran into him, their eyes glued to their cell phone screens.
“Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where the USO is?”
Sympathy flashed in the man’s eyes as they flicked to the crutch Jaxson held at his side. Jaxson made up his mind then and there. The crutch was getting left behind when the last leg of the trip was completed.
“Domestic Terminal, level three. Gotta go outside of security to get there. If you’ve got bags, you’ll have to claim them and recheck them before you can fly out on your rescheduled flight.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
Jaxson blinked. “Me? For what?”
“For your service.”
Jaxson nodded. That seemed to be the thing to say these days. The old man hadn’t been the first to say that to him on this trip, but unlike most of the others, this guy seemed to actually mean it.
The baggage claim area was a zoo. Inconvenienced passengers pushed and shoved and vied to get their luggage instead of simply waiting for it to loop around again. It seemed pointless. No one was going anywhere anytime soon. All flights in and out were on hold until Helen did her thing and moved on.
Once he had his bag, Jaxson made his way to the third level, following the signs to the USO. As the glass doors slid closed behind him, a woman appeared and greeted him with a warm, genuine smile.
His first thought was, What the hell is she so happy about?
She was on the tall side for a woman with kind eyes and brown hair that reached her shoulders. “Welcome to the USO! I’m Blessing Collier, and I’m in charge here. You are ...”
“Jaxson. Jaxson Adams.”
“Of course you are. I’ve been expecting you. Let’s get you signed in, so you can settle in. You look like you could use it.”
Expecting him? Clearly, she had him confused with someone else, but he didn’t feel like correcting her. The sooner he got off his feet, the better.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed, the sound soft and light and oddly comforting. “Call me Blessing, please, though I am a sucker for a man with good manners.”
His lips twitched as he followed her toward the desk. It was the closest he’d come to an actual smile in a long time.
“We usually close at nine, but with the storm and flights canceled, we’ll stay open all night,” she chattered on. “We’ve got a full house tonight, but I’m sure we’ll find a place for you.”
“Appreciate it.”
After completing the sign-in procedure, he followed her down a hall painted red, white, and blue.
She waved her hand to the side toward a large shelving unit that was overflowing with bags, duffels, suitcases, and even strollers parked next to it. “You can put your bag against the wall here,” she said, pointing to a spot where a few other government-issued bags sat on the floor. “It’ll be safe and out of the way.”
He followed her instructions, glancing into a room with children sleeping on pallets with their parents slumped nearby in the cushioned sofas and chairs. Another room held uniformed men and women asleep on the floor with their backpacks tucked underneath their heads for pillows. The ache in his hips intensified as he thought about stretching out on the hard floor, but Blessing had other plans for him.
She turned and continued on, leaving him to follow. Looking over her shoulder, she waved to the left. “Showers and toilets are there. Are you hungry?”
He shook his head. Thanks to the long walk, the pain had progressed enough to dampen any appetite he might have had.
“Well, if that changes, there’s food back the way we came. Our staff is preparing more for those of you just getting here. Of course, breakfast will be served, starting at six a.m. For now, I’m taking you somewhere special. We call it the library. I think you’ll be happier there.”
Before he had a chance to respond, she ushered him through a doorway. He glanced around, pleasantly surprised as they stepped into a smaller lounge. Plush leather sofas faced each other with a recliner against the wall. Two other men were already slouched on the deep cushions, military guys like himself. And bonus: no screaming kids.
One of the guys wore a medical walking boot, his foot propped up on the table in front of him, prompting Jaxson to wonder if Blessing had led him here because of his crutch. He normally wasn’t one for special treatment, but after the long trip, he’d make an exception.
The men appeared to be deep in quiet discussion but looked up at their entrance.
“Jaxson Adams, Army,” Blessing announced. “Jaxson, this is Sebastian Durand. He’s a Navy man, on his way back to Louisiana.”
The man without the boot stood. He was slightly shorter than Jaxson’s six f oot two height but had similar dark brown hair and assessing gray eyes. Jaxson pegged him immediately as special forces—a SEAL, if he had to guess.
Sebastian offered his hand, his grip strong and confident. “Jaxson,” he said, revealing a hint of a drawl.
“And Kyle Jones, also Navy, heading home to the Appalachians. That’s something you two have in common, although Jaxson’s from the Blue Ridge Mountains,” Blessing said with a smile.
“Don’t get up.” Jaxson leaned over and shook the guy’s hand.
The guy looked comfortable where he was, and Jaxson knew firsthand how difficult finding a comfortable position could be with an injury.
“Thanks,” Kyle said.
He, too, had the intense, detached look of a special forces man, though Jaxson had seen uncertainty in the guy’s blue eyes a moment earlier. That was something else Jaxson understood all too well.
“Well, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. I’ll be back with the rest of your companions shortly,” Blessing said, turning and going out the way she had come.
“Did you tell her you lived in the mountains?” Kyle asked.
Jaxson shook his head. He hadn’t told her that he’d been in the Army either.
Kyle laughed. “Me neither. Sebastian here thinks she might be psychic or something.”
Or incredibly observant, Jaxson thought, too weary to put much thought into it. “What did she mean by ‘the rest of your companions’?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Damned if we know. Probably more of that woo-woo shit,” he said, but he was smiling.
“Is that an official Cajun term? Woo-woo shit?” Jaxson couldn’t help but ask.
“Yeah. What do you call it?”
He shrugged. “A logical guess.”
“Ah, a nonbeliever.”
Jaxson grunted and settled into the recliner. There wasn’t a hell of a lot he did believe in these days.
The SEALs went back to their discussion, which was just fine with him. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. The low murmur of their voices was company enough.
He was just about to close his eyes when he spotted movement an inch or so from the end of his fingers. It looked like a short, squat armored tank on legs, slowly making its way along the curve of the arm. He hadn’t seen a stink bug in ages. No doubt it had hitched a ride with someone.
Jaxson knew better than to crush it; it was called a stink bug for a reason, and he had no desire to unleash that in such close quarters. He flicked it away, sending it off into the corner somewhere for someone else to deal with later.
True to her word, Blessing returned a short while later with a fourth charge, a guy she introduced as John Roster, an Army guy, like him.
Jaxson stood stiffly, his joint protesting the movement, and tried to hide the wince that went with it. They clasped hands as Jaxson said, “Good to meet you.”
Judging by the puckered skin near the guy’s left eye, he’d been medically discharged, too—a fact that John would confirm a few minutes later.
Jaxson sat back down, vaguely registering something Blessing was saying about gratitude and finding happiness. When she left, John had the same WTF look on his face as Jaxson had had after a few minutes with the woman.
“She’s an odd one ... real nice but odd,” commented Sebastian.
John walked over to the sofa, settling into a space next to him with Sebastian and Kyle across from them.
Kyle shook his head. “She’s got a weird vibe about her ... almost like she knows what’s going on before being told.”
“Woo-woo shit,” said Sebastian, grinning at Jaxson.
For the second time in less than an hour, Jaxson almost smiled.
“She took one look at my face and knew why I was getting out.” John lifted his hand, his fingers grazing over the scar by his left eye. Seeing the others’ gazes following his hand, he shrugged. “Shrapnel. Lucky I’m not blind, but I lost my peripheral vision on this side.” He snorted. “Not bad and yet bad enough.”
“What did you do?” Jaxson asked, the leather squeaking as he shifted in his seat.
“Special Forces. Engineer Sergeant.”
Kyle grinned. “You can build it and demolish it.”
John chuckled. “Yeah, that’s about the long and short of it. You going back in?”
“Don’t know,” Kyle replied. “We’ll see how the recuperation goes. No room for a gimp with my SEAL team. I might have to decide between paper-pusher and getting out.”
John looked at Jaxson. “You?”
“MOS 91B. No paper-pushing for me.”
John nodded as if he understood. Jaxson believed he did, too.
“What about you?” Sebastian asked.
John shook his head and sighed. “Don’t know.” He told them about heading back to his grandfather in Maine, saying he had nowhere else to go.
“At least you’ve got someone to go home to,” Jaxson said, then clamped his lips together when he caught a flash of sympathy in the other man’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He must have been more tired than he’d thought.
Blessing returned a final time, escorting one more to the room. Tall and fit, he had an air of confidence about him.
“Gentlemen, this is Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Cameron Freeland.”
John took to his feet. “Sir.”
Cameron shook his hand, telling him to skip the formalities. “Save that sir stuff for the officers. Keep your seat, please, and it will soon be Mr. I’ve Punched My Retirement Ticket.”
Blessing turned toward Jaxson. It looked like he was up next. “This is Jaxson Adams, also Army.”
“Prior now also.”
“End-of-tour leave?” Cam asked.
Jaxson waved toward the lower half of his body. “Medical.”
“Sorry to hear that. Doesn’t have to define you.”
Jaxson didn’t know what to say to that, so he went with a simple, “Thanks.”
Blessing continued with the introductions, moving on to Sebastian and finishing up with Kyle.
Jaxson closed his eyes and tried to nod off again but found himself listening to the others as they discussed finding new possibilities in the civilian world. Jaxson wasn’t too worried about that. He didn’t have the special forces training some of the others did, nor was his skill set specific to military service. Good mechanics were always in demand, and injured or not, he was a damn good mechanic. If there was one saving grace to the car bomb that had shattered his side from the chest down and gotten him sent home, it was that it hadn’t affected his hands, eyes, or brain.
It was the where of it that he was struggling with. Did he move forward with the plans he and his father had made before his father’s untimely death? Or did he start fresh somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t hold bittersweet memories?
That wasn’t a decision he had to make today. Not tomorrow either. He’d go back to the hollow, deal with the shit he’d been putting off for far too long, and then reexamine his options.
John was talking, something about letters. Apparently, a class of elementary school kids had gotten his name from the American Legion his grandfather belonged to and started writing to him. Jaxson remembered participating in a similar project when he was a kid.
“You should go by and see them when you get home,” he suggested. “They’d get a kick out of it.”
“You think?” John asked doubtfully.
“We had a couple of servicemen come by for career day when I was in high school. One of them was a guy we’d sent letters to in elementary school. He said those letters kept him going some days.”
“Maybe I will,” John said, and then Cam switched the topic back to what they were going to do next.
“You’re like a walking transition-assistance class,” Kyle said on a laugh, and the others joined in. Even Jaxson chuckled a little. Kyle wasn’t wrong.
Cam shrugged. “You are only limited by your belief in yourself. Think about what it is you want. Where do you want to be when you’re forty-four years old, like me? Do you want a family? Do you want to mentor those behind you? Are you willing to walk away from what you have now and start fresh?”
The guy put into words the same thoughts rolling around in Jaxson’s mind. The problem was, he hadn’t worked any of the answers out yet. And he was tired of thinking about it.
