Finding Refuge Read online

  Finding Refuge

  Hometown Heroes: Book 1

  J.P. Oliver

  Contents

  1. Zach

  2. Curtis

  3. Zach

  4. Curtis

  5. Zach

  6. Curtis

  7. Zach

  8. Curtis

  9. Zach

  10. Curtis

  11. Zach

  12. Curtis

  13. Zach

  14. Curtis

  15. Zach

  16. Curtis

  17. Zach

  18. Curtis

  19. Zach

  20. Curtis

  21. Zach

  22. Curtis

  23. Zach

  24. Zach

  Seeking Sanctuary

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  Finding Refuge

  1

  Zach

  When I stepped out of the cab, everything in the world felt familiar.

  “This is the place,” the cabbie said, grunting as he unbuckled and heaved himself out of the front seat. Dutifully, he went to the back, flipped open the trunk and passed me my duffel bag.

  “Thanks.” I slung it over my shoulder.

  I didn’t need to be told twice—or even once, for that matter—that this was the place; I’d know it was the place by the smell of the air around it—cool and light and smelling of foamflower, cut grass, and old rain—and by the bumps in the road—there weren’t a lot, but they were scattered up the weaving roads as we climbed in elevation, and I’d been over them so many times in my life, they were just a part of the journey now.

  This was North Creek, Tennessee, and it was home.

  I fished out some cash and paid my driver, making sure to tip generously on top of the already wild fare; he could have refused me, and it was a long drive from the airport. Sometimes, it felt like this little town was the only thing for miles and miles.

  Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I spared a glance to watch the cab peel away, down the country road, disappearing behind the blooming maple and dogwood. A breeze kicked up and the trees around the long spit of yard in front of me rustled, the sweet sounds of Tennessee springtime.

  Set in the fresh-cut grass was a large ranch-style home, all brick and white shutters and dark shingles. It was built back before I was born, before I was even a twinkle in my dad’s eye. It was a place, much like the whole of North Creek, that I knew every damn inch of.

  I’d spent my life here, grown up here, played here, had all the ups and downs of childhood and adolescence. All the mistakes. My entire life—all twenty-eight years of it—this was home, and it was the only safe haven in all of North Creek: a town I’d all but avoided the past ten years.

  The front door flung itself open, and from it poured Beth Savage, all open arms and big smiles. The energy around her was infectious, and without even trying to, I started smiling and took the first step onto the lawn.

  Beth.

  My lips twitched into a small smile knowing she would be here—knowing all my family would be here. She was a constant in my life, and I fucking missed her.

  She’d raced across the grass barefoot to throw herself at me, and I caught her, lifting her off the ground, meeting her in a crushing hug.

  Normally, I looked forward to coming home. It’d been three years too many since I’d last stood at the edge of this long yard. Always for happy things: fall and winter holidays and birthdays, reunions and the Fourth of July—but for the first time in my life, this was the exception.

  My father was dying.

  The news came in the form of a phone call of all things. I never thought about getting news as shitty as that before, but if you’d asked me beforehand how I thought I might hear of it, I would have thought of the movies. I would have pictured some big emotional speech, leading up to the reveal and the consolation; I’d have been with my family and we would have hugged and vowed to make the most of what time was left.

  I hugged Beth just a bit tighter, relaxing into the familiarity.

  I’d gotten the phone call on a random Tuesday afternoon. The sun was out and shining, the first real day of spring we had in Virginia Beach. I was stationed there, a Navy SEAL at Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek. I was out on one of the naval ships, lending a hand to swabbing it down.

  My cell phone rang and I flipped it open; it was Beth.

  “Hey,” I said, turning away from the bright blue water. It was glistening nice and bright and clear. Somewhere behind me, someone was barking orders at a private.

  “Hey,” she’d said, sounding off. I knew the sound of it right away.

  “What’s up?”

  Nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” I corrected.

  “Dad,” she said, voice a little uneven.

  I felt something in the pit of my stomach just before she said it. Like sibling telepathy, or like I’d been expecting it in some deep, subconscious part of me, I thought of my father.

  “He’s sick,” she said, which I sort of knew already though sordid little details, sporadic mentions of needing to get to the goddamn doctor already from my mother.

  I was breathless. “Okay,” I said dumbly.

  “Yeah.” Beth sniffled a little and sighed. “Yeah, the doctor only gave him a few months, so.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  She sounded like she was trying really hard to keep it together.

  I felt the need to be home, instant as a lightning strike. Somewhere under my feet, the boat’s engine made a deep noise. The water lapped and sloshed against the metal hull gently. It was a perfectly pleasant and normal day, and I just found out my dad was dying.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Beth said again. “Sorry, fuck—I should have—”

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah, Zach?”

  The name hurt. I felt the weight of it in my own chest. Out at Virginia Beach, no one ever called me by my nickname. It was only ever Savage or Isaac, my first name. Never Zach. That was for family and friends.

  “I’m gonna come home,” I said.

  Beth made a sound like she was relieved. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah.” Another sniffle. “Okay, yeah, I’ll tell mom.”

  “Okay.”

  “Savage!”

  I whipped around in time to eye one of the superiors making a stern gesture for me to wrap it up. I waved at him in recognition, knowing that time was limited.

  “—coming home?” Beth said.

  “What?”

  “When’re you coming home?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, because it was the honest truth. “Soon. I’ll let you know, but… but it’ll be soon. I promise.”

  We’d issued each other quick goodbyes—she had to make other phone calls, tasked with the impossible job of letting the rest of the family know. For everyone around me, it was a normal day. It wasn’t anything like the movies, it was just a phone call, a blip in what was an uneventful afternoon. There were times when I forgot, for just a second, that Beth had called. It was surreal to be surrounded by other people but know that the second I hung up was the second I was truly alone.

  “Jesus, Zach,” she laughed, burying her cheek against my shoulder. “What the hell’re you standing out here for, freak? I looked out the window when I heard the cab and you’ve just been zoning out for the past five minutes.”

  I laughed and set her down, affection swelling in my chest.

  Beth Savage was twenty-six, the only daughter, and the baby of the family. She had light brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, healthy and layered. Her blue eyes were the same shade as my own—we’d get teased sweetly about it in high school, everyone always calling us a matched set—and freckl
es were dusted across her nose and cheeks. She was the shortest, next to our mother, standing at a confident and modestly curved five-foot-nine.

  This was the little firecracker that had threatened to several times to shoot my other leg if I didn’t come home, and she wasn’t a woman of empty threats.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Missed you, too, Beth.”

  With a smirk, she reached to scoop my duffel off my shoulder.

  I stepped to the side, swinging it to my other shoulder—a.k.a. out of her reach.

  “Nice try, sport.”

  “Ugh, you’re so annoying.” Beth shot me a grin as we fell into step, crossing the yard. “Is it too late to call the cab back?”

  We both laughed. It felt good; maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “How’s Dad?” I asked.

  Beth hummed, hands in her jeans pockets. “Right to business, huh?”

  We both stopped just short of the front steps.

  “Yeah, well.” I hefted my bag on my shoulder, just to have something to do with my hands. “I’ve been sort of out of the loop being away.”

  “You didn’t call,” Beth said gently.

  “I did. I called Mom, but she hasn’t been going into detail about anything. I just want to know—”

  “Before you go in there?”

  I nodded.

  Going inside meant it would be real. It meant that, eventually, I’d have to leave, and after that, our dad might be gone for good.

  “Yeah.” Beth nodded to herself, too, thinking about it. “He’s in a wheelchair, Zach. Don’t know if you know that part. He’s alive, he’s kicking, but he’s been getting weaker.”

  “Shit.”

  “You know how he is.” She gestured to me. “You’re here, everyone’s coming. I can fill you in on all the gory details when we’re about to slip into a world-famous Savage food coma, okay?”

  With an exhale, I braced myself. I could do this.

  “Yeah.”

  “All right.” Beth reached to get the screen door for me. It screeched as she pulled it back. “You’re early, so we can pregame with Mom’s pasta salad, if you want. You hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “Good.” Beth shut the door behind us. “Cause there’s gonna be a lot of it—”

  “Jesus.”

  Beth paused. I paused. The whole world paused.

  The living room was the same it had been my whole life: the same old leather sofa, the same wood floors and cream walls, the same loveseat just about all of us Savage kids had our first awkward kisses on, the same knit rug and the same old, boxy plasma television and photos on the walls. Everything was the same—except for the party store decorations. Balloons hung and bobbed with little streamer tails. The coffee table had a little tissue paper tablecloth draped over it. There was a banner that read, ‘WELCOME HOME’ on it.

  I turned to look accusingly at Beth.

  “What?” she asked, grimacing at my expression. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Did you guys buy out the whole fucking store?”

  “Yeah, and then some.” She walked by and patted my shoulder. “Don’t make such an angry face, Zach, it’ll get stuck like that.”

  “It’s just… weird.”

  “You don’t like it?” she asked.

  I shot her a look: obviously.

  “You guys didn’t need to plan anything,” I told her. “I’m here for dad, it’s not like I’m coming home from college or anything exciting. It’s not about me.”

  “Yeah, well, Dad put it together.”

  I huffed a laugh. “That figures.”

  It was so like him to plan a party when he was feeling unwell. We stood like that for a moment, admiring the work he’d put into all this in mutual silence, but I got the sense that hers wasn’t as comfortable as my own; I got the sense that something was off, only slightly, like she was keeping something from me. I could only imagine what she wasn’t telling me—what things I’d have to wait to learn about until later, probably about Dad’s health.

  “Here, c’mon,” she finally said, sliding the duffel strap off my shoulder.

  I dropped it by the stairs and followed as she led me through the living room to the kitchen. We rounded the familiar corner, wood floors creaking under our feet—

  “Zach!”

  My mother’s voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room. In the next moment, she was wrapping her arms around me in an iron-clad hug, the type only moms can give.

  I returned it gently, lovingly.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  Ashley Savage was the matriarch of the Savage family, reigning supreme. Maybe it’s a bit extreme to call her that, but it was the truth. To anyone who didn’t know her, she was an assuming woman in her sixties: her hair was long and pretty with a variety of values, grayed out from sandy blonde. She was short and curvy. She had kind blue eyes and was soft-spoken. Like I said: unassuming.

  But there was a whole other side to Ashley Savage. The side that was pure, unadulterated mama bear. That was the side North Creek knew her for; sure, she was a Savage, and our name meant something around these parts, but Ashley was strong-willed and never took any crap from anyone, so long as she lived. Not as a kid, not in high school, and certainly not when it came to her family.

  When her family wasn’t in danger, though, she was sweet. Loving. As we separated, she went up on her tiptoes to cup my face in her hands, and I dipped my head to let her. Her hands were wrinkled in some spots.

  She sighed happily before letting me go.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.” She shook her head.

  “Glad I’m home, too.”

  “Long trip?”

  “Yeah.” I rolled my neck and rubbed at my shoulder to work out a few kinks. “The plane kept hitting all sorts of turbulence, and the cab driver drove like it was the fucking Indy 500.”

  Beth snorted, arms folding as she leaned on the island. “They still haven’t paved some of the backroads, so I can only imagine.”

  “I know. I tried telling him that, but he insisted he knew what he was doing, so.” I shrugged, leaning back against the fridge. “He wouldn’t listen to a local over the damn GPS.”

  Beth smirked. “Send him your massage therapy bill, why don’t ya?”

  We made a face at each other, and the silence that followed was comfortable. Mostly. There was still an air of something being out of place in the kitchen, not only with Beth, but with my mom, too.

  “Okay,” I huffed. “You’re both way too smiley.”

  A thinly disguised question: What the hell’s going on here?

  I watched them exchange excited, unsure glances.

  When Mom looked back at me again, she was actually sort of misty-eyed. But she was also smiling? Carefully, she sat herself at one of the island’s stools and said, “Beth’s got some news.”

  I looked at Beth, brows knitting.

  “Okay?” I drew out slowly.

  Beth laughed, looking down. She was fiddling with her hands, and finally she stuck her left out. On her ring finger was a sparkling little band: an engagement ring.

  “Holy shit,” I huffed, kicking off the fridge to get a closer look.

  “You’re not very observant, are you?”

  “Shh, shut up.”

  Mom laughed, covering her mouth, watching us as I picked up Beth’s hand to examine the rock; it was a nice diamond, sizable and clean-cut. Another thing I’d missed while I was away.

  “You’re engaged,” I said.

  Beth clicked her tongue. “You’re not as dumb as you look, big brother.”

  I swept her up into a hug, turning with her in my arms, and she cackled, hugging back. She was clearly excited—I was excited. My baby sister was getting married, for fuck’s sake! How could I not be ecstatic?

  “So, I’m guessing little Zach’s heard the news?”

  I set Beth down, both of us red-faced and smiling. We all turned to follow the sound of that familiar voice:

  “Vict
or,” I huffed, crossing the kitchen.

  We drew each other into a firm, brotherly hug.

  Victor was our oldest brother, the very first of the finest generation of Savage children. Little brother was a word he used for me very liberally, despite being shorter by an inch (an inch I would never give up, no matter how childish, thank you). He was the definition North Creek contemporary: classy but very much a Tennessee man. His sandy blond hair was swept neatly and kept trimmed, his eyes were a brilliant brown; he had a tattooed sleeve he’d spent years collecting on his right arm and was dressed in the usual duds: faded jeans and a button-up dress shirt. Not too fancy, not too backwoods. He always made it work.

  “So,” I asked as we all accumulated around the island, “what’s his name?”

  Beth groaned. “You don’t remember anything I tell you.”

  Everyone laughed and Victor ruffled the back of my hair. “He never listens—c’mon, Zach.”

  I swiped his hand away.

  “It’s Robert,” Beth said, unable to say the name without smiling.

  “Robert,” I repeated.

  It rang a bell, vaguely.

  “Yes, Robert. And he’s going to be here very soon,” Beth said.

  “So play nice,” said Mom.

  “Do I have to?”

  I looked at Victor, who shrugged, chuckling.

  “I guess so. I mean, it’s our brotherly duty to bother him until he’s officially your husband, you know that right, Beth?”

  “Please don’t.”

  “You met him?” I asked Victor.

  He hummed. “Yeah. He’s all right—for a city boy.”

  “Y’all are so annoying, I swear,” Beth huffed, rolling her eyes but affectionate.

  Our mother laughed, sliding off the stool with a light wave. “I’m gonna grab your father. He’d hate to miss all this liveliness.”