Page 41 of Forest Reed (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #8)

Liam James

The Harley’s engine echoed against the empty highway, a low, steady growl beneath me as I headed toward the mountains.

I didn’t know why I was going there exactly—maybe to shut Fraiser up, maybe because part of me was tired of running from the ghosts in my head.

Either way, the road had a way of making me think about things I didn’t want to.

Five years. That was how long it had been since Sandy tore my heart out and stomped on it for good measure.

Five years since she married my brother while I was halfway across the world dodging bullets and hauling my teammates out of firefights.

Love, trust, marriage—those words didn’t mean much anymore. Not to me.

The wind cut through my leather jacket as I leaned into the next turn. Fraiser called almost every day, telling me to come see the place he’d been bragging about since I first met him.

“You’ll love it here,” he said. “It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

Peaceful wasn’t something I trusted. Peaceful usually came right before all hell broke loose.

Still, I couldn’t shake the curiosity. Fraiser claimed half the guys had settled here—Max with his perfect wife and their picture-book bed-and-breakfast, Forest running trails like he was still twenty, even Jack Raider and his little family lived there. They all had roots now. Lives.

Me? I had a bike, a duffel bag, and a list of regrets long enough to wrap around the damn mountain. I have a pick-up truck I left at my Dad’s, and five brothers I haven’t seen in five years. Because I haven’t been home.

I stopped at a gas station at the base of the road leading up. The old man behind the counter eyed me like I was trouble, which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely wrong.

“You heading up to Fraiser Mountain?” he asked as I filled the tank.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Lots of old Navy boys up there. Good folks. Kinda keep to themselves.”

I grunted in reply. People always said that about us—good folks, until you dug deep enough to find the scars.

Back on the road, the mountain air grew cooler and sharper.

Pines lined the highway like soldiers at attention, and for the first time in months, maybe years, my shoulders eased a little.

I didn’t have anyone breathing down my neck here.

No missions. No betrayals waiting back home.

I retired from the Seals and still haven’t settled anywhere.

I thought about Fraiser’s last call:

You’ll like it here, Liam. There’s this little town, a tight-knit community. Some new folks, too. One woman came outta nowhere with her little girl—keeps to herself. Pretty as hell, though. Looks like she’s hiding something.

He’d said it casually, but I’d heard the unspoken words. This town’s got stories. Some good, some bad.

I’d seen enough of both to last a lifetime.

The sun dipped lower as I neared the top.

A couple of trucks passed me going the other way—locals heading home, maybe.

I wondered what they thought of the new guys on the mountain, the ex-SEALs who carried too much history in their eyes.

All except Fraiser, this mountain has been in his family for generations.

One thing was certain—by the time the sun went down, I’d have a beer in my hand, old teammates around me, and at least for one night, the past shoved into a corner where it couldn’t reach me.

I just didn’t know that before the night was over, a red-haired woman with haunted eyes and a daughter to protect would slam right into my life.

And nothing on Fraiser Mountain—or in my heart—would ever be the same again.