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"Yeah." I look up at him. "Family is complicated."
Something passes between us in that moment—a recognition, perhaps. Two people who understand what it's like to be cut off from those who should be closest.
"Josh blames me for leaving," Riley says suddenly, the words coming out in a rush. "For not being here when our father was at his worst."
I stay very still, afraid that any movement might stop this unexpected confession.
"He was abusive," Riley continues, his voice low. "Our father. Mean drunk. Josh was fifteen when I enlisted. I thought... I thought I was escaping. Didn't realize I was leaving him behind."
My heart clenches at the pain in his voice. "You were eighteen. Just a kid yourself."
Riley shakes his head. "Old enough to know better. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late." His hands tighten around his mug. "When I finally returned, he was already back in Cedar Falls and wanted nothing to do with me."
"Have you tried talking to him?" I ask softly.
"Many times. He's made his position clear." Riley's eyes meet mine, "Some breaks can't be mended."
I think of Emma, of the hateful words we hurled at each other after the reading of Dad's will. The silence that has stretched between us since.
"I don't know if that's true," I say, more to myself than to him. "I hope it's not."
Outside, the storm has begun to subside, the thunder now a distant rumble, the rain lessening to a steady patter. The candles have burned lower, casting longer shadows across the room.
Riley seems to notice the change, too. "Storm's passing," he says but makes no move to leave.
"Yes," I agree, equally still. "But the power's still out."
We look at each other across the candlelit room, and I feel something shift between us—a barrier lowering, just slightly. We've both revealed parts of ourselves tonight, shared hurts we usually keep hidden. It's created a connection I wasn't expecting and suspect neither of us was looking for.
"Another coffee?" I offer, not ready for him to go.
He looks at his watch, then back at me. "Sure," he says. "I've got nowhere to be."
As I take his mug and head back to the kitchen, I can't help but smile to myself. It's not much—just coffee and conversation in a power outage. But it feels like the beginning of something. A friendship, at least.
And right now, in this new town where I know almost no one, a friend is exactly what I need.
Chapter 6 - Riley
I can't believe I just told her about Josh. About our father. I never talk about this—not to anyone. Not even to the VA therapist who tried to get me to "open up" during my mandatory sessions after discharge.
But something about Lucy—the way she listens, really listens, without judgment—made the words come out before I could stop them.
She's in the kitchen now, making more coffee, and I'm left sitting here with the strange, hollow feeling that comes after revealing something you've kept buried for years. My heart is racing, adrenaline surging through my system like I've just been in a firefight instead of a conversation.
Thunder cracks suddenly—a deafening boom that shakes the windows—and I'm gone.
Just like that. One second I'm in Lucy's cottage, and the next I'm back in Afghanistan, huddled in a transport vehicle as mortars explode around us. The smell of diesel and burning rubber. The taste of dust and fear. The screams of men who won't make it home.
I tilt my head back, gripping the couch cushions so hard my knuckles turn white. My vision tunnels, narrowing to a pinpoint of light in a sea of darkness. I can't breathe. Can't move. Can't—
"Riley? Are you okay?"
The voice comes from far away, as if through water or across a vast distance. Lucy's voice. Not a soldier's. Not a commander's. Lucy.
I blink, struggling to pull myself back to the present. The cottage. The candles. The storm.
"Riley?" Her voice is closer now, concerned. She's standing in front of me, coffee mugs forgotten, her face a mask of worry.
Something passes between us in that moment—a recognition, perhaps. Two people who understand what it's like to be cut off from those who should be closest.
"Josh blames me for leaving," Riley says suddenly, the words coming out in a rush. "For not being here when our father was at his worst."
I stay very still, afraid that any movement might stop this unexpected confession.
"He was abusive," Riley continues, his voice low. "Our father. Mean drunk. Josh was fifteen when I enlisted. I thought... I thought I was escaping. Didn't realize I was leaving him behind."
My heart clenches at the pain in his voice. "You were eighteen. Just a kid yourself."
Riley shakes his head. "Old enough to know better. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late." His hands tighten around his mug. "When I finally returned, he was already back in Cedar Falls and wanted nothing to do with me."
"Have you tried talking to him?" I ask softly.
"Many times. He's made his position clear." Riley's eyes meet mine, "Some breaks can't be mended."
I think of Emma, of the hateful words we hurled at each other after the reading of Dad's will. The silence that has stretched between us since.
"I don't know if that's true," I say, more to myself than to him. "I hope it's not."
Outside, the storm has begun to subside, the thunder now a distant rumble, the rain lessening to a steady patter. The candles have burned lower, casting longer shadows across the room.
Riley seems to notice the change, too. "Storm's passing," he says but makes no move to leave.
"Yes," I agree, equally still. "But the power's still out."
We look at each other across the candlelit room, and I feel something shift between us—a barrier lowering, just slightly. We've both revealed parts of ourselves tonight, shared hurts we usually keep hidden. It's created a connection I wasn't expecting and suspect neither of us was looking for.
"Another coffee?" I offer, not ready for him to go.
He looks at his watch, then back at me. "Sure," he says. "I've got nowhere to be."
As I take his mug and head back to the kitchen, I can't help but smile to myself. It's not much—just coffee and conversation in a power outage. But it feels like the beginning of something. A friendship, at least.
And right now, in this new town where I know almost no one, a friend is exactly what I need.
Chapter 6 - Riley
I can't believe I just told her about Josh. About our father. I never talk about this—not to anyone. Not even to the VA therapist who tried to get me to "open up" during my mandatory sessions after discharge.
But something about Lucy—the way she listens, really listens, without judgment—made the words come out before I could stop them.
She's in the kitchen now, making more coffee, and I'm left sitting here with the strange, hollow feeling that comes after revealing something you've kept buried for years. My heart is racing, adrenaline surging through my system like I've just been in a firefight instead of a conversation.
Thunder cracks suddenly—a deafening boom that shakes the windows—and I'm gone.
Just like that. One second I'm in Lucy's cottage, and the next I'm back in Afghanistan, huddled in a transport vehicle as mortars explode around us. The smell of diesel and burning rubber. The taste of dust and fear. The screams of men who won't make it home.
I tilt my head back, gripping the couch cushions so hard my knuckles turn white. My vision tunnels, narrowing to a pinpoint of light in a sea of darkness. I can't breathe. Can't move. Can't—
"Riley? Are you okay?"
The voice comes from far away, as if through water or across a vast distance. Lucy's voice. Not a soldier's. Not a commander's. Lucy.
I blink, struggling to pull myself back to the present. The cottage. The candles. The storm.
"Riley?" Her voice is closer now, concerned. She's standing in front of me, coffee mugs forgotten, her face a mask of worry.