Chapter One
Camden
My lungs burned as I drew a deep breath, seeking oxygen that wasn’t there, and my fingers itched to hold the cigarette I’d thrown away six years ago. Altitude did that to me every time—at least the breathing part.
The craving for a smoke? That was courtesy of Alba, Colorado, population 649. Or so the sign I’d passed about a mile back proclaimed. Then again, I wasn’t about to trust a sign that hadn’t been updated since before I’d been born—which was par for the course in my hometown.
Nothing about it had changed since I’d left, which was pretty much the point of the whole town. Just past the paved roads, Alba was the best-preserved ghost town in Colorado, and the tourists who flooded her streets in the summer kept the tiny town alive all winter long.
The total on the gas pump climbed as I stretched my hands toward the late-afternoon sun and the snowcapped peaks above me, willing life back into muscles I’d kept cramped for far too long during the drive from North Carolina. The bite in the March breeze cut through my exhaustion, and I welcomed its icy fingers on my exposed skin. It definitely wasn’t T-shirt weather up here at ten thousand feet.
A gasp caught my attention, and I turned toward the minivan that had pulled up behind my Jeep a minute ago. A blonde wearing sunglasses too big for her face and a puffy winter coat gawked with one foot on the concrete and one inside her vehicle, as if someone had pushed pause during her exit.
I lowered my arms, and my shirt slid back into place, covering the inked strip of stomach she’d no doubt gotten an eyeful of.
She shook her head quickly and started to pump her gas.
At least she didn’t make the sign of the cross and back away.
Either she’d moved to Alba in the last ten years or my reputation had softened some since I’d joined the army. Hell, maybe the population of Alba had forgotten all about me.
I finished filling my tank and headed inside the small convenience store to grab a drink. God only knew what Dad would have in his fridge.
A set of bells chimed as the door closed behind me, and I nodded in greeting to the older man leaning on the counter. Looked like Mr. Williamson still owned the gas station. His bushy silver brows rose with a quick smile. Then he did a double take, both his brows and smile falling as he blinked in confusion. And then his eyes narrowed in recognition.
Looks like that rep is alive and well.
I quickly chose a few bottles of water from the slim selection and carried them to the counter.
The old man’s eyes darted between my hands and the bottles as he rang them up, like I was going to steal them or something. I’d been a lot of things, but a thief wasn’t one of them.
The bells chimed again, and Williamson visibly relaxed. “Afternoon, Lieutenant Hall,” he greeted his newest patron.
Awesome.
I didn’t bother looking. That stubborn, old, judgmental piece of work hated my—
“Holy shit. Cam?”
That wasn’t Tim Hall wearing a badge—it was his son, Gideon.
Gid’s mouth hung slack, his light-brown eyes wide in shock. It was a similar expression to the one he’d worn that time Xander had shoved us into the girls’ locker room the fall of our freshman year. I’d never found a way to properly thank my brother for his attempt at hazing—not that anyone would believe Xander would stoop so low. After all, he was the good son.
“I didn’t think police officers were supposed to swear in uniform.” I gave him a quick once-over. Unlike his dad, Gid was still too trim to sport a belly over his belt.
“As opposed to soldiers?” he countered.
“Actually, that earns us bonus points, and besides, I’m not in a uniform anymore.” I hadn’t been for seventeen days. “Does your dad know you stole his badge?”
“Anymore? Does your…” He sighed. “Crap, I’ve got nothing!” His laughter unleashed my own. “It’s good to see you!” He pulled me into a fierce, back-pounding hug, his badge digging into my chest.
“You too.” I grinned as we broke apart. “In fact, you might be the only person I’m happy to see.”
“Oh, come on. Not Mr. Williamson here?” Gid looked over my shoulder and cringed at whatever expression he saw on Williamson’s face. “Okay, maybe not him.”
“He’s never really cared for me.” I shrugged, well aware that he could hear me.
“You did throw someone through that window the last time you were here.” Gid motioned toward the glass that had long since been replaced. “Man, how long ago was that? Four years?”
“Six,” I answered automatically. Of the few things I remembered about that night, the date was still crystal clear.
“Six. Right.” Gideon’s expression fell—no doubt remembering why I’d been in Alba last.
Sullivan’s funeral.
Grief threatened to rise up and steal what was left of the oxygen in my lungs, but I beat it back for the millionth time since we put Sully in the ground.
God, I could still hear his laughter—
“You going to pay for these waters, Camden?” Mr. Williamson asked.
“Yes, sir,” I responded, thankful for the interruption, and turned back to the counter to finish the transaction. I didn’t miss the flash of surprise on Williamson’s face at my tone or when I thanked him as I took the bag and moved aside.
“That stuff will kill you,” I told Gideon as he purchased a six-pack of soda.
“You and Julie, man,” he muttered under his breath as he handed over his debit card. “Can’t a guy drink in peace?”
Funny. This was more than I’d smiled in the entire last month. “How are Julie and the kids?”
“Driving me to drink.” He lifted his soda in the air. “No, really, they’re great. Julie’s a nurse now, which you would know if you ever joined the social media world.”
“No, thank you. What’s the point?”
Gideon thanked Mr. Williamson, and we headed outside. “What’s the point? I don’t know. To keep in contact with your best friend?”
“No, that’s why we have email. Social media is for people who need to compare their lives. Their houses, their vacations, their accomplishments. I see no reason to stand on my front porch with a bullhorn to broadcast what I had for dinner, either.”
“Speaking of dinner, how long are you in town for?” he asked as we paused between my Jeep and his faded squad car. “I know Julie would love to have you over.”
“For good,” I replied before I could choke on the words.