Page 5 of Wild Mistake
I hate letting them down, and lately that’s all I seem to do.
The drive is short, and within minutes I’m turning into the lot behind the diner. I pass the giant tree near the interstate that’s all decorated for Christmas, as it always is this time of year. As a child I used to think it was the biggest, brightest, most magical tree that existed. There was a legend it could grant Christmas miracles, and for a long time I believed that. Parking near the back of the diner, I take it in and try to reclaim that feeling. The balls decorating the Ponderosa Pine’s branches are in desperate need of new paint. The white twinkling lights that go all the way to the top, almost twenty feet tall, have a few strands burnt out.
Still.
It’s beautiful and evokes a wave of nostalgia.
I squeeze my eyes and make a wish.
I want to be happy again.
I exhale a heavy sigh. Too bad wishes aren’t real.
2
AIDEN
“You sure thisis where you want me to drop you?” The older gentleman scrunches his brow as he pulls off onto the highway emergency lane. “There’s a gas station in the town up ahead, just a few miles. A motel too.”
“Here’s perfect. Thanks,” I say to the man who just a few hours ago took notice of me and my bag, the standard military issue, and insisted he buy my coffee as a thank you for my service to this country.
I’d stopped into the gas station in Payson because it was cold out, and I was kicking myself for taking a bus instead of renting a vehicle to surprise my family for Christmas. I didn’t take into account the bus would break down or that everything would be closed. I was seriously considering hitchhiking the final eighty miles, but thanks to the kindness of this stranger I didn’t have to.
“You sure? I don’t mind. Be happy to pay your way for a night.”
His offer warms my heart. I have a family and a place to go home to, but so many of the men and women I served with over the years don’t. “Yep. I’ve got folks waiting on me. Promise. I know my way home from here.”
I could find my way through these woods with my eyes closed, even after two decades, for as much time I spent wandering this land as a youth.
“Okay, then.” He pulls the truck to a stop and flicks on the hazards. “You take care of yourself, son.”
“I will,” I say, climbing out of the seat. “Thank you, sir.” I shut the door and offer him a wave before lifting my bag onto my shoulders and picking my way through the brush. The ground is hard, ice crunching under my boots with each purposeful step. Puffs of air that look more like smoke leave my mouth with each breath, and my chest stings with the cold at each inhalation. I haven’t been this cold in years and memories prick my mind.
I shake them off and pick up the pace.
The mostly full moon does a decent job of lighting my way, but after jumping a few fences and cutting past the creek, the house lights up ahead glimmer through the trees, a beacon signaling the finish line.
I’m almost home.
Damn.
Warmth spreads through my veins, and for a second I imagine there’s someone inside waiting for me. Silly, because no one knows I’m back. Even if they did, there’s no one waiting. The only woman who ever promised to wait broke my heart, and that was almost twenty years ago. She’s moved on. So have I. At least, there hasn’t been anyone since her who made me want to risk my heart again.
Fucking hell.
Most days I don’t even think of Sarah.
We were young, but our love was pure and real and there’s a part of me that will always regret not staying. That will always wonder what could have been. As much as I don’t like to live in the past, it’s going to be impossible now because every inch of this town is painted in memories of her. Of us.
At least she doesn’t live here with her husband and their perfect family. I’m not sure I could take that. Not when I’d like to finally put roots down and find someone, or some way to be happy, near my family.
I step out past the woods and pause. The drive up to my brother’s house is lined with cars.Shit. He’s having a party.
This is not the Christmas Eve homecoming I envisioned, but I guess that’s my own damn fault for not calling ahead. Selfishly, I wanted to surprise my family and see the looks on their faces. I guess I’ll have to do it in a house full of strangers.
It’s cold enough the porch isn’t full of people, but the laughter and conversations from inside can be heard as I knock on the door. I knock again, louder this time, and the voices hush.
The door swings open and Ryan, my brother one year my senior, stands there in shock. “What the—”
