Chapter One
Shepard
It is a beautiful day out—and I am miserable.
Guess today is no different from any other day. Being miserable is part of my personality at this point. Once upon a time I was no less or more miserable than the next guy. And then I walked in on my soon-to-be wife banging my would-be best man—andher maid of honor—two days before our wedding.
There went the idea of coming home to my bride-to-be a conquering hero to start a happy-ever-after life.
Serving my country for ten years had been a source of pride for me. My father was military and I thought if I joined, he might finally be proud of me. When mama had passed away, we all I had a hard time with it. Most days at home were spent in pained silence and I thought joining might give us something to talk about.
He wasnotproud of me—when I enlisted he said I no longer had a home to come back to. I was shocked and if I had to pinpoint it, that is when my misery began. I served despite his objections, and I was damn good at it. I joined a special forces operation and met some men I still call my brothers.
I had met the woman I hoped to marry on a weekend leave. My best friend at the time—yes, the one I caught balls deep inside her—introduced us. I don’t know if I fell in love with her or what she promised. A home and a family, and something to come home to.
Our wedding was supposed to happen a week after I retired from the marines. It didn’t give her enough time to end the affairs she had been having in time before the big day. She claimed to want just one last hurrah with the two of them before she settled down with me.
Settled for me is what I had heard.
Refusing to ever settle, I told her to go ahead with the wedding I had paid for—and choose either my best man or her bridesmaid to marry, I would not be waiting for her at the altar. I was angry and embarrassed, but I was not heartbroken and that should have answered my questions about whether I’d truly loved her. It still hurt and it took me a long time to let it go.
Well, hell, maybe I never did let it go. Not the heartbreak but the sting of betrayal. I don’t trust people anymore. Another layer of my misery. Secluded up here on a mountain, I keep people at a safe distance. Even some of the guys from my old crew only hear from me if they reach out.
“Too bad they stopped reaching out,” I mumble to myself as I sip at my coffee.
Overhead, the skies are a dark cobalt and I know a storm is coming. Here on the mountain, we get the first glimpse of coming storm fronts, and I love it. It is one of the reasons I built my cabin so high up, to watch the storms roll in and blanket the town in rain or snow.
It was a calm summer, but this fall has already given us a few downpours. Driftwood is a quiet town on the upper corner of Georgia. I came here a few years ago because my old buddy Ridge invited me to catch up with him and some of our battalion buddies. After a weekend here, I never wanted to leave.
Several of us built cabins on the mountain and Mack, our old commander, runs a logging company. I considered joining them out there at the landing, but I don’t play well with others. Even others that I like. Since coming home and having my entire world implode in my face, I haven’t been good company for anyone.
My misery is made worse by the fact that no one seems to notice my absence in their lives. Pop died before I could ever go work things out with him and my younger sister Allie wants nothing to do with me. She resents me for pop turning so bitter—not that I recall him being anything but bitter—and leaving her to deal with him on her own.
Sometimes the guys will get me to town for a wedding or something important, but I always come back feeling more out of touch than before. Every time I am around the others who are happily married or starting families, I am reminded how the rest of the world has gone on while I am left at a standstill.
“Your own damn fault Shep,” I mutter to myself, finishing my coffee as I watch the blue skies churn with the coming storm.
Could be out on the landing with the guys I was out in the field with. Maybe go with them for a beer at The Rusty Nail after a long day of felling trees. Talk about their ladies, or hell maybe find one of my own. Instead, I stay here on the mountain doing the one thing I know I am good at.
I may not be out on the landing felling trees, but I spend most my days chopping wood. Landon, a buddy of mine who also logs, and I went in on an acreage of land between our cabins. His wood is used for furniture pieces, and I use mine to make pet palaces. While my pieces are not as beautiful, they do serve a purpose.
Building something with my own two hands is something I was always good at. I took things apart in the marines and I knew when I was done, I wanted to make things. When I first got here, I found an abandoned pup in the cabin I rented while I built my own. I made that little guy his own cabin with heating and a beautiful window view, and he loved it.
“You ought to sell those,” Landon suggested when he saw it, “people spoil their pets. Hell, you don’t need the money, but I bet people would love putting their Sparky or Fido up in a joint like that.”
Turns out, he was right. He even sometimes makes pieces to furnish the little houses with. Money is no motivator for me, but I sure do like seeing the dogs living in style. I spend my days making lavish little homes for the pet shop in town, and ones I donate to the shelter to go with the newly adopted pups.
Landon always jokes no one would believe that a miserable fuck like me, a hermit by all accounts, would be doing something so selfless for cute puppies. He teases that I ought to try to pick up women by using what I do as a line at the bar or some shit. I don’t go there for women though, and I don’t ever want to bring a woman back to my cabin.
“Nah, a woman might soften him,” Ridge had teased me the last time I ventured into to town for a beer with them, “he can’t allow that. Can you, Shepard?”
“No, sir, I can’t allow that. What fucking good would a woman do me?”
“Well, my woman did me a hell of a lot of good,” he was quick to respond after having just married his sweetheart.
“Mine too,” Mack had joined in, and I rolled my eyes, knowing what was coming next.
“And mine,” Nolan offered with a cheeky grin.