The Grumpy Roommate Gamble (Heroes of Huckleberry Creek #1)

1. Gabe

ONE

GABE

Two lanes of black top disappeared into the darkness beyond the beam of my headlights. This twisty stretch of mountain road was all that lay between me and Huckleberry Creek. I’d lost count of the hours of travel getting us back stateside to the demobilization station at Fort Benning. Though fatigue weighed on every inch of my body, I hadn’t been willing to wait until tomorrow when a bus would take all the rest of the soldiers from Huckleberry Creek and the surrounding areas home. Instead, I’d rented a car. I wanted my house. My bed. And a chance to sleep for most of a day without fear of attack. After that, I might shower until the entire contents of the water heater had gone cold. It felt as if it was gonna take that long to really get the desert out of my skin.

It was after nine by the time I rolled down Main Street. I spotted only a handful of vehicles parked beneath the wrought-iron streetlights that lined the curb, likely belonging to the residents of the apartments above various businesses. We rolled the sidewalks up early on weeknights here, except for Doc Holliday’s Saloon, one of the only bars in town. The green of the old-growth trees overarching the street felt like a dream after the endless miles of sand that had greeted me daily for the better part of a year. More trees blanketed the gentle roll of mountains that rose on either side. I wanted to get out in those woods and soak in the quiet and the life until this nagging sense of dissonance finally dissipated.

But that could wait for a day or two.

Tonight was for home.

I crossed the bridge that spanned the town’s namesake creek and drove the couple of miles to the outskirts. The quiet street wasn’t a neighborhood. Not really. A collection of only six houses were nestled into the trees on patches of wooded lawns of varying sizes. My grandmother owned three of them, including mine, plus a few houses here and there around town. Rentals were a big part of how she maintained a living in her retirement, which was why I hadn’t actually purchased my house from her, even though I’d done all the work to renovate it. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other, and I helped her maintain the other properties in the normal course of things between my other contracting jobs. God, it was going to feel good to tote wood instead of weapons again.

A light shone in the window as I pulled into the drive of the two-story Craftsman bungalow I’d restored. I’d left several on timers when I’d deployed, but it still felt a little surreal sitting here as if at the end of a normal workday. I kept expecting to wake up. If I didn’t move my ass, I was going to do exactly that in the wee hours of the morning, with a multitude of cricks and cramps in all the wrong places from passing out in the driver’s seat.

I shoved out of the car, grabbing my ruck from the trunk and trudging up the steps. The moment I stepped inside, my senses were assaulted by the scent of green, growing things. Confused, I turned a circle, taking in the dimly lit living room on one side and the dining room on the other. There were houseplants all over the place that hadn’t been here when I left. Some with long, trailing tendrils. Others with bright blooms that brought to mind tropical destinations. Was that a ficus in the corner?

Had Nana brought them over as a welcome home present?

I hadn’t told her when I was getting in, though it was entirely possible that she’d heard it through the grapevine from the family of someone else in my unit. Plants weren’t really my thing, but it was a nice gesture. Made the place feel homey in a way it usually didn’t. I hoped I didn’t manage to kill them. I also spotted pillows on the sofa and a blanket I didn’t remember.

Man, Nana really had gone all out. I could even smell some kind of food. I detoured long enough to verify that none was sitting out on the counter or stove. If she’d left me something in the fridge, God love her, but I was too tired to eat right now. I filed that away as something to check on when I surfaced tomorrow, then backtracked to the stairs. The marathon shower could wait until then, too.

Despite my exhaustion, I moved upstairs silently. It was too engrained not to make a sound if I could help it, even if there was no one to hear. I had no idea how long it would take me to re-acclimate to civilian life this time. My previous two deployments hadn’t seen any real action, and I suspected all of us would have more issues than we had before.

As I crested the top of the stairs, something moved at the far end of the hall. I dropped my rucksack, prepared to fight the intruder. But I registered before the bag even crashed to the floor that it wasn’t a burglar. At least not the kind I expected. It was a woman in a towel that barely covered her generous curves, with dark hair all bundled on top of her head as she stepped out of the hall bathroom.

As the bag landed, the woman whirled and spotted me. With a scream, she stumbled back, clearly terrified. And fair enough. I probably looked pretty rough right now. When was the last time I’d even shaved? But damn it, this was my house. Why was she in it?

I flipped on a light.

My uninvited guest froze, throwing a hand up to shield her eyes from the glare, but not before I saw the familiar wide green gaze that I’d been imagining in the middle of that firefight when we’d all been sure we were gonna die.

“Felicity?”