He waited for a wave of nostalgic happiness to sweep over him as he turned off I-90 and headed toward his hometown—toward Valley Ridge, New York. The wave never came. No warm glow telling him that all was right in the world again because he was here. No feeling that he should never have left. No feeling that it was good that he was coming back. No feeling at all. Nothing. Nada. That pretty much summed up his emotions since he’d received his separation orders from the marines. Hearing that he was unfit for service hurt, but after that, it was as if everything froze and became a blank grayness. He reached over and turned up the volume of the car’s stereo, thinking maybe the music would inspire some feeling. “This is 93.9, The Wolf,” a female DJ’s voice announced. Sebastian flinched when his left hand tried to grip the wheel, as Lady Antebellum’s plaintive song soon filled the car.
