of her being the thing that stood in the way of his return home—it gave her control over his life that she didn’t fucking deserve.
So he’d eventually decided to take it back.
Woodman had written to him two months ago, asking Cain to come home and be his best man when Cain’s contract was up in October. His initial reaction was “Hell, no!” But despite Cain’s painful personal history with Woodman’s two-faced bride-to-be, every time he sat down to write back to his cousin, he found he couldn’t say no. And he finally realized it was because, although Cain liked travel and had enjoyed seeing much of the world, as his final days in the Navy came to an end, he found himself—almost shockingly—longing for home.
After six years in the military and very little in the way of expenses, Cain had managed to save almost $30,000 in a U.S. bank account, and during a few days of liberty over the summer he’d flown into Lexington without alerting his family and spent two days with a commercial real estate broker. Looking in Lexington, Frankfort, and every little town in between, he’d finally found what he was seeking in Versailles, located about fifty minutes away from Apple Valley, just south of the I-64 corridor that connected Lexington and Frankfort.
It was a four-thousand-square-foot brick structure that included a large carport, a double-bayed garage, a drive-through showroom with finished, but stylishly rustic wood paneling, and a small office with a full bath. The lease was $1,800 per month, locked in for a full year, and Cain’s small collection of three additional motorcycles would be arriving on a transport next week to populate the showroom. He planned to modernize the building to his liking, then open the garage to service and sell motorcycles starting in January.
He’d gotten the idea of opening his own business when he stayed for a month and a half with his friend Sven in Iceland. He’d learned how Sven did his books, serviced bikes, took on pet projects like restorations, and moved a small number of new models. Though there would certainly be hiccups to being a new business owner, Cain had been reading up on small business ownership in Kentucky, and he felt ready to tackle a new future.
It felt strange to think of leaving the service after six such life-changing years, but Cain had enrolled in the active Reserves with a December 1 start date, which kept his leg in and meant he could still enjoy some of the perks of military life: medical insurance, training at a GI Bill–approved learning institution should he decide to seek out some technical courses, local commissary use, and a modest ancillary income relative to his retirement rank of seaman first class.
And sure, he’d still travel when the wanderlust bug bit him. He was dying to see the Pacific Ocean, a place he hadn’t been able to visit during his active service in the U.S. Sixth Fleet. Cain had seen a lot of the Eastern seaboard of the United States and the coasts of Africa and Europe, not to mention the harbor lights of the Mediterranean from the vantage point of a flight deck. But he’d never gotten to the Pacific. Being his own boss meant that, after Woodman’s wedding, Cain could close his garage for a few weeks, jump on his bike, and spend some time riding from Washington State to Baja.
For the first time in his life, he had a plan for himself that felt grounded in his interests but would still give him the freedom he needed when he craved it.
Fast approaching Lexington, he stepped on the gas, bypassing the exit that would take him north of the city to Apple Valley and continuing west toward the exit that would take him home. But of course his eyes tracked the exit, and his mind shifted seamlessly back to Ginger like a homing pigeon whose cage is gone but who can’t seem to find a new home.
Would it be awkward to see Ginger?
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” he snarled, looking back at the highway ahead.
As far as he was concerned, she was dead. She didn’t exist. And he certainly didn’t plan to spend any time near her. He’d never crush Woodman by relating the events of that terrible day three years ago, and if he couldn’t stand there with a cheerful fucking smile plastered on his face while Woodman said “I do,” he should have just said no to his