He can’t be her hero...

But he made a promise to keep her safe

Wounded marine Chad Corallis just wants to be left alone. Until he discovers his best friend’s very pregnant widow is in danger. A dedicated nurse, she refuses to leave her Serengeti medical clinic when it’s threatened by poachers. Chad is honor-bound to protect her, but who will save him from falling for his best friend’s wife?

Award-winning and USA TODAY bestselling author RULA SINARA lives in rural Virginia with her family and crazy but endearing pets. She loves organic gardening, attracting wildlife to her yard, planting trees, raising backyard chickens and drinking more coffee than she’ll ever admit to. Rula’s writing has earned her a National Readers’ Choice Award and a HOLT Medallion of Merit, among other honours. Her door is always open at www.rulasinara.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, learn about her latest books and find links to her social media hangouts.

Also by Rula Sinara

From Kenya, with Love

The Promise of Rain

After the Silence

Through the Storm

Every Serengeti Sunrise

The Twin Test

A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

The Sweetheart Tree

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Marine’s Return

Rula Sinara

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09087-2

THE MARINE’S RETURN

© 2018 Rula Sinara

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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This book is dedicated to military men and women—

active duty, veterans, wounded warriors, those who

gave their lives—and to their families. Thank you for

your service and sacrifice.

And a special series dedication—for it began with and

has always been for…the elephants.

Acknowledgements

To Catherine Lanigan for your friendship and contagious, uplifting energy. Your heartfelt support and words of encouragement gave me the courage and confidence to keep writing when I needed it most.

Thank you for believing in me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

MARINE SERGEANT CHAD CORALLIS pressed his shoulder against the crumbling clay wall that ran along the outskirts of the remote village. His nostrils burned from the caustic stench of rotting food scraps and trash bags baking in the scorching sun only a few feet away. But he kept his eyes peeled on the one-story building that stood in a gated courtyard across the street. His war dog, Aries, stayed in position at his side.

Chad adjusted his helmet then held up two fingers and pointed twice in the direction of the only other nearby structure, signaling for his men to head there. Corporal Jaxon, the youngest member of their squad at eighteen, nodded and passed the order on to the three men behind him. In a flash, Chad had his M27 aimed over the wall to cover the team as they began to move.

Jaxon led them, crouched low, to their new position—the roofless remnants of an old shop that had been stripped and beaten by years of war. A field of red poppies streaked across the landscape like an ominous river of blood flowing from the dusty, bleak village.

His men were well trained.

They’d survive this.

They had this.

The squad had captured multiple insurgents in Kandahar without a loss to the platoon. They’d endured unfathomably brutal conditions last winter at their outpost, working alongside Afghan troops to take down a Taliban stronghold. They’d even survived an ambush between Marjah and Nawa. Barely, but they were here now.

Still in Helmand Province.

Still alive.

He shifted, rising just enough to scan the street before moving to his next position. A woman draped in a burka walked briskly down the street, tugging on the hand of a little girl who’d dropped her doll. Every detail registered...the tall, lanky build of the woman, a curtain fluttering in a window across the street, a scruffy dog sniffing its way toward the trash...

Chad muttered a curse and kept firm control of Aries. He willed the other dog to stay away. One bark by either and they’d be sitting ducks.

He motioned for his men to wait. Adrenaline sizzled in his veins. He aimed his M27 and prepped for their cover to be blown.

Someone called out a name in Pashto and the dog trotted off down a narrow alley to the left. The girl grasped for her doll, as her mother held her hand tight and tried hurrying her along. Chad took two deep breaths...the kind he used to take as a kid before diving into the crisp waters of a crystal-clear pool on a swim with his sister and brothers.

He was doing this for them. For all the innocents out there...families, children, parents, loved ones. People all over the world who deserved the priceless, innate human right of peace of mind. The right to know they were safe from harm. But evil was a slippery, elusive, son of a—

A bead of sweat trailed along his throbbing temple and hit the corner of his eye. He blinked it away and focused. He was born to do this. His father was a marine. Being in the armed forces—fighting evil—was in his blood. Failing wasn’t. He looked from the road to his men.

They were in position. They knew the target’s coordinates. What in God’s name was taking so long for the final order? He waited to hear his commander’s voice come through his earpiece. He itched to move. Every cell in him was on fire.

The order came through.

Jaxon and the seven others on his team abandoned their cover and headed for the target, just as a small cart rolled down the street toward them like tumbleweed through a ghost town. The little girl pulled free from her mother’s grasp, scooped up her doll and ran toward the cart. Her mother yelled and ran after her.

Something was off. The cart was rolling too slowly. It was too close to his men. Too close to the little girl. And there was no sign of its owner coming after it. Aries growled and tugged.

“Fall back! Fall back!”

Chad leaped over the wall and ran like hell toward the cart, Aries at his heels.

Jaxon’s gaze jerked to Chad then to the cart. Then he looked once more at Chad, his eyes glazed with an eerie calm...and an unflinching resolve. Jaxon pushed the others out of his way and ran to intercept the cart.

“No!” Chad couldn’t let him do it. Images of his younger brothers filled his head. Family. These men were his brothers, too.

He had to protect them. He had to protect the innocent, too.

The child stopped in her tracks, green eyes wide with fear at the sight of his men. Her mother picked her up and ran.

Chad’s pulse pounded in his ears as he ran. Two more feet. He had to make it. He would.

The cart closed in. Jaxon lunged toward it. Chad collided with him, grabbed his arm and threw him to the left while shoving the cart as hard as he could to their right. It rolled a couple of feet before it stalled against a small rock...

And detonated.

CHAPTER ONE

6½ Months Later

LEBOO STEELED HIMSELF against the metallic stench of blood and the sight of ripped flesh. What if there was a trail of blood leading here? What if he got caught? It didn’t matter at this point. He had no choice. He had to put his family first. That’s what brave ones did. They were fearless. They hardened their heart if that’s what it took to face danger or death. He was being tested. And he would prove himself worthy. Of being a man. A protector.

He pulled the roll of bandage wrap out of his pocket along with a handful of herbs he’d learned were good for clotting. It had to be enough until he could get his hands on something for infection. He eyed the gun that lay against the mass of mangled roots that formed the cave-like thicket camouflaged by a copse of elephant pepper trees and tall clumps of savannah grasses. He had to try. He had to stay alive. He’d do whatever he had to do...even if it meant killing.

* * *

LEXI GALEN TAPPED the syringe and slowly depressed the plunger until the last bubble of air escaped. Finally, the last vaccination for the day. She was so tired.

Maybe she shouldn’t have traveled so far yesterday. They’d taken their mobile medical unit to a Luo village farther north, closer to Lake Victoria. She wasn’t going to be able to endure those longer trips much longer, not now that she was well into her eighth month of pregnancy. She’d have to plan to stay closer to the rustic clinic she manned near the outskirts of the Masai Mara.

But that meant sacrificing patient care. There were children and other pregnant women in those more distant tribal villages who were counting on her. One was barely old enough to be called a woman.

She refocused on the patient at hand. “This will be over as fast as a cheetah can run,” she promised.

The little Masai boy clung to his mother and pressed his cheek against the numerous rows of orange, red and blue glass beads that adorned her chest.

“I’ll need you to hold him still for a moment,” Lexi said to the boy’s mother. Between the few words of broken Swahili she’d learned over the past five months and many of the villagers understanding English, the clinics were running more smoothly than when she’d first moved here.

Learning Maa was proving to be a little harder, but she was determined to at least understand the native Masai language before her baby became a toddler. She wanted her child to learn it, too...just as Tony would have wanted.

Lexi planned to build a life on the Serengeti, and she wanted to embrace everything about the land, including the people, languages and culture.

She swabbed and stuck the little boy’s arm. He wailed as all the others had...an aching sound that crushed her heart. Bless their hearts, she couldn’t blame them. They were too young to ignore the pain...too young to understand that she wanted to help them, not hurt them.

She’d learned to tune out children crying during her nursing career, for the most part, but today it was wearing her down. Her head hurt. Her lower back and legs ached more than they had in months.

She wasn’t complaining. Well, she wanted to, but she had no right to. This had been her idea. Her call. She had made the decision to drop everything, quit her position as a hospital RN in the US and move to Africa, pregnant and alone.

She glanced up and waved at the little boy as he and his mother left the clinic grounds. The child clung to his mother’s hand and disappeared with her down the stone-lined dirt path and around a copse of wild fig trees.

Here she was, in the middle of this vast, mesmerizing wilderness...but not far enough away to forget. Everything back in their apartment in America had reminded her of the way Tony must have suffered. The burn scars that had rendered him unrecognizable to anyone but her had haunted her. They still did.

He’d been a dedicated military doctor. They’d met less than a year prior to getting married, though they’d tried to stay in touch as much as possible during his tours in Afghanistan. They had talked every chance they could, despite the time difference. They’d been married only three weeks before he had returned to duty. His last tour. Technology had its advantages, but it couldn’t bring back the dead.

Sometimes she wondered if the fact that there had been a screen between them during much of their relationship had helped them to open up to each other more quickly. She’d never spoken as honestly about her past as she had to Tony. He’d known her parents had gone to prison on charges of fraud and embezzlement. Something no one else knew.

Her parents had been takers. Greedy in a way Lexi had sworn she’d never be. She was only nine years old when they were imprisoned. But it wasn’t until almost a year later, after being shuffled from one foster home to another, that she’d realized she would never live with her parents again. There had been no other relatives to take her in. She’d never forget her tenth birthday. That night, she had gone outside long after everyone in the house was in bed, sat in the cool grass and wished desperately on a star for a permanent family. One made up of good, loving people who cared about others. Givers.

But instead of getting her wish, her foster mother found her curled up in the dewy grass that morning and yelled at her for unlocking the door and wandering outside after midnight. The concern hadn’t been for her safety. She’d supposedly put the house at risk of getting robbed. That day had hardened her...made her a survivor. Relying on hopes, dreams and wishes wasn’t enough. She had to rely on herself.

And if the other children—fosters and non-fosters—she’d spent time with during her patchwork tween and teen years hadn’t been strong enough to rely on themselves, she’d taken care of them, too. That had led her to nursing school and, later, to Tony.

They’d met at the hospital during one of his short leaves in the States. He had been visiting a young woman—a medic—who’d been wounded while en route to the field hospital where he was stationed. Lexi had felt an instant connection with Tony. So immediate, it had scared her at first.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from loving him. He had been just as open with her as she had been with him. He’d been an only child, too, except he’d had good parents. He’d been raised in Kenya and had grown up with his best friend who’d been like a brother to him. A brother who hadn’t been able to make it to her and Tony’s wedding because of his deployment. But Tony had promised he’d introduce her to him someday.

He’d also promised she would never be alone again.

Ever.

The last time they’d been together had been the final day of his leave, only three weeks into their marriage. He’d proposed as soon as he had returned home from duty and they were married that week. In retrospect, she wondered if he’d somehow sensed he might not make it back and it had been his way of ensuring that he kept his promise in one form or another. They had married, honeymooned locally...then he’d had to return to duty. And then their life together ended. Just like that. He’d been gone less than two weeks when he was injured.

She’d rushed to be by his side but he’d been in a medically induced coma. One he never awoke from.

His death had felt like the sharp edge of a knife twisting and carving its way through her chest. She’d lost everything that day. She’d thought she had nothing left to lose...until she’d discovered she was pregnant on the day of his funeral.

Lexi’s eyes burned from the memory. She blinked and sniffed to stop any tears from falling, then focused on clearing her clinic supplies. She needed to keep her head. Tony had never been comfortable around emotional outbursts or signs of weakness. She needed to stay strong for him...for his baby.

This had been Tony’s dream—to complete his service as a marine medic then return to his father’s native Kenya to set up a clinic and provide medical care to tribal villages that were in dire need. After he’d told her about visiting his grandmother at a Masai village, Lexi had understood his vision. She’d assured him she’d wanted to be part of it and they’d had their future here all planned out. Living in Kenya would be a fresh start for her...a way to leave the past behind and build a future with family.

They were supposed to be here, in Kenya’s wild west, working side by side. And even though Tony had died, there was no way she could let that dream die. Being here honored him. Being here was the only way she knew how to stay strong. And for all the broken promises she’d suffered in her life, she would never break the one she’d whispered to him moments before he was gone—that she would find a way to fulfill their dream to bring medical care to the Masai and other tribes. She’d do it for him. She’d do it for the only family she’d ever had.

She picked up a small box of supplies off the table and headed for the storage room built against the side of their bungalow. They always had the exam tent on the other side of the clinic camp stocked, but there wasn’t enough room there to store all their supplies.

“I finished the inventory,” her assistant, Jacey, said, knotting her long dark hair at the nape of her neck. “We need more alcohol wipes and gauze bandages. Everything else is good for now. I don’t know where all these supplies went, though. I could have sworn we had more, but I guess between all the clinics we held this week and yesterday’s trip, we used more than anticipated. I’ll restock in here first thing in the morning.”

Lexi was lucky to have Jacey, who had been working as a tech assistant out here at least three to four months before Lexi signed on.

“Makes sense. Thanks for making a list. What would I do without you? I’ll add them to the order this evening. I need to eat first,” Lexi said.

Lexi set the box she was carrying on an empty spot and headed back to the folding table where she’d been vaccinating kids. Jacey followed her out to the central, courtyard-like clearing where they held outdoor clinics, and grabbed another box off of the table. Lexi picked up the hard, plastic, biohazard container carrying discarded needles, then returned to the storage room.

“How are you holding up?” Jacey pulled a key out from around her neck and locked the dented metal cabinet that housed their vaccine and antibiotic vials, HIV screening supplies and prescription pills for most of the conditions they encountered. Less expensive supplies, such as bandages, were kept in a separate cabinet, unlocked because it didn’t come with one, but secure enough to keep dust and insects out of it. Besides, they always locked the storage room door, too. The only place some things weren’t secured was in the exam tent, but they were always in and out of it and it was easily seen from the bungalow across the clearing. Lexi set the biohazard container down.

In the grand scheme of things, they had meager supplies considering the number of people they saw in a day. Inadequate supplies, really, given the conditions she was treating. The fact that they couldn’t do more for some of the tribal children and their parents ate away at Lexi every night.

It roused memories of when one of her foster “sisters,” a girl five years younger, had come down with a fever, yet instead of using the foster check to buy medicine or to pay for a doctor’s visit or even to make soup, their foster mom had simply given her acetaminophen and told her to stay in bed. Had it not been for Lexi caring for the little girl, no one would have comforted her, given her cold cloths or gotten up at night to check on her.

But medicine itself had limits, too. Doctors and nurses hadn’t been able to do more for Tony, either, and he’d had access to state-of-the-art medicine and the best care possible. The burns and shrapnel wounds had been more than Tony’s body could handle.

“I’m okay. Could use food and a nap, though,” she said, as Jacey followed her back outside. “Where’s Taj?”

Taj, a medical resident, came out to the clinic most weekends and was always willing to help out in any capacity. With only three of them on staff, even the most menial duties were shared. Right now, Lexi needed him to take down the temporary canopy they’d used for shade. She knew better than to try to take it down herself. At this point in her pregnancy, into her thirty-fifth week, balance and coordination were not her forte. Besides, it was more weight than she was willing to risk carrying. Her baby came first.

“Taj will be here in a sec. He’s still in the exam tent, finishing up with the older fellow with the abscess on his foot. You can wash up. We’re basically done,” Jacey said.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Go on. We’ve got this. I’ll help him take down the canopy, too.”

Lexi squeezed Jacey’s shoulder and smiled her thanks as she dragged her feet to the bungalow that served as their living quarters. She lumbered up the three steps to the bungalow’s front porch, ducked inside to grab a bottle of water, then headed back out onto their narrow front porch. She collapsed onto one of the wicker chairs. There was more of a breeze out here than inside. Plus, she liked closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of Africa. The trumpeting, roars, high-pitched calls and rumbles all made her feel at home. It was a natural lullaby. It made up for the rustic and outdated living quarters.

The small plaster-and-clay bungalow they lived in had two tiny, dorm-size rooms with cots for sleeping, a kitchenette and the main sitting room—still small—where clinic records were stored in a file cabinet against the wall. Jacey and Lexi shared one room and either the clinic’s founding doctor, Hope Alwanga, or Taj used the other, depending on who was covering the weekend.

As a medical resident, Taj took care of anything Lexi wasn’t licensed to do at the clinic. But he had obligations back in Nairobi where he was finishing up his hospital residency. He tried to make it out to the rural clinic as much as possible because giving back to the communities where he grew up was important to him.

He was a lot like Tony in that respect. Lexi loved that about him. Both men were reminders that there were good people in the world. She took the fact that Taj’s goals mirrored Tony’s as a sign that she was on the right path. That she belonged here even if she was technically an outsider. Tony had been her only family, which made this land a part of her through love and marriage and a part of their child through blood. She felt more rooted to this place than she’d ever felt anywhere in her life. She felt accepted.

She took another swig of water and pushed her short hair off of her forehead.

Even Hope Alwanga had taken her under her wing, making sure that Lexi had good prenatal care. Hope used to make it out here herself more often, but she was also running a pediatric practice in Nairobi and venturing out with a separate mobile medical unit to as many rural areas as she could.

Most people out here knew “Dr. Hope.” Many of them hadn’t seen a doctor before Hope had established her mobile clinic program for the Masai Mara and surrounding areas decades ago. Being of Luo decent and passionate about helping children, Hope had wanted to give back, as well. It was as if Lexi had finally met kindred spirits.

Hope had told Lexi that this static clinic was only a few years old, yet the staff turnaround had been high. Living out here wasn’t for the average person, but Lexi had never considered herself average. Given her past, she’d always felt a bit like a nomad, so the move from America hadn’t fazed her at all.

When she’d seen the online ad for a registered nurse willing to live and work in rural Kenya, she responded immediately. The timing had been perfect. She’d still been numb from burying Tony and, to top it off, she’d discovered she was pregnant. The news had been a bittersweet gift she’d never gotten to share with him.

As far as Lexi was concerned, the job posting had been a sign. It was as if Tony had been opening a door...nudging her to pursue their dream instead of losing herself in mourning.

She’d answered the ad and Hope had responded. The two women had instantly bonded. Hope’s son—also a marine—had been injured during a mission only a week before the attack on Tony’s field hospital. And it was Hope that made the connection between the two men. Her son, Chad, was the friend Tony had grown up with, the one who hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding.

She touched her belly. The thought of losing one’s child... She shuddered. This was why she hated sitting around and resting, even if she needed to. It gave her idle time to think and her thoughts, more often than not, only reminded her of what she’d lost.

Hope was lucky her son had survived. Injured, yes, though she hadn’t divulged all the details of Chad’s injuries. But at least he’d survived. At least he had loving parents—a father who could understand what he’d been through and a mother who, as a doctor, could help him heal or at least make sure he was getting the care he needed.

Since coming to the clinic, Lexi had met Hope’s daughter, a human rights lawyer who was well known for helping Kenya’s indigenous tribes, and Hope’s younger sons, currently in college, but she’d never met Chad. He’d only recently returned to Kenya and, according to Hope, he was far from healed.

Hope often lamented, with all the love and anguish of a mother, that Chad was the most stubborn, impossible patient she’d ever tried to work with. She’d been struggling to pull him out of a depression and to motivate him to resume therapy, physical and psychological, in Nairobi. But it was an uphill battle.

Lexi couldn’t blame him after the trauma he’d suffered, but she also knew motivation had to come from within. A person had to want to survive all that life threw at them. They had to want to find a way to chase their goals, even if it meant taking a different path. She’d heard of individuals who, after being told they’d never walk again, had learned to not only walk but to dance. Unlike Tony, Chad still had his life ahead of him. She wouldn’t feel sorry for him if he chose to waste it.

“I heard my name,” Taj said, stepping out from the exam tent. He paused to say goodbye to his last patient, a thin, lanky man whose cheekbones were framed by beaded loop earrings that reached his shoulders. The man gave a toothy smile and nodded his appreciation, then adjusted a red-and-orange shuka that was draped over his shoulder and headed down the dirt path for home.

“You need help cleaning up in there?” Lexi asked, nodding her head at the tent, which stood about twenty meters across the clearing from the bungalow. Her legs didn’t want to move so she kind of hoped he didn’t.

“No, I’ll get it. And this,” he said, grabbing the table Lexi had used to hold her vaccine trays. He folded the legs in and leaned the table against the peeling plaster of the clinic wall. “I’ll put that away in a second. Jacey can help me with the rest. Sitting there isn’t enough. You need to raise your legs. You should go lie down before your feet swell to the size of an elephant’s. I still think you should come back to Nairobi with me and let Dr. Hope find someone else to staff this place.”

“Not happening. I’m fine here. It’s good for me. Being sedentary while pregnant isn’t. But I’ll take you up on raising my feet. I’ll be inside. Oh, and if someone can get their hands on some chocolate-chip ice cream and potato chips in the next five minutes, my hormones will love you.”

“Good luck with that.” Jacey chuckled as she helped Taj pull the legs of the canopy out from the dry, red earth.

“I’ll have to bring you a cooler on my next trip over so we can stock some ice cream for you,” Taj said. They had a small freezer, but they needed it for ice packs and healthy foods. Not junk food. Besides, there was no room left in it.

“I would worship you if you did that,” Lexi teased.

He did have that ancient godlike look to him. Tall, dark and muscular with a sincere yet dazzling smile. Jacey had most definitely noticed. The poor thing was almost too careful not to steal glances, but the way her cheeks flushed whenever she and Taj talked casually over work, gave her away.

She also got annoyed with Taj quite a bit. The blushing and bickering were a dead giveaway that the two were engaged in some sort of primal courtship ritual.

Jacey didn’t like wearing her emotions on her sleeve any more than Taj did, but Lexi was convinced her two staffers liked each other. As a nurse, Lexi was well trained in how to read faces and body language. Sometimes people were too stoic for their own good...or too stubborn.

“You better share that ice cream,” Jacey said. Lexi chuckled and shook her head.

“I can’t make that promise. He’ll have to bring you your own tub. Although sharing would save me some calories. I’m probably lucky I can’t have ice cream and chips on a daily basis out here. I’d be huge.” Lexi pressed her palm to her lower back. “Thanks, you two, for finishing up here. I’m going inside.”

“Sure thing,” Jacey said over her shoulder.

Lexi wasn’t sure what was worse, the intense pregnancy cravings or the constant aches. She slipped into their mini kitchen, grabbed some cheese from their small, generator-run fridge and a banana off of the counter, then sat in a chair and propped her feet up on an empty supply box. She rubbed a hand across her belly, stopping when she felt a small kick. She lifted her T-shirt and smiled at the little bump on the left side of her belly.

“You too, huh?” she said, tracing her finger where the baby was nudging her. She had no idea if it was a boy or a girl. She still didn’t want to know. As undeniably real as her pregnancy was at the time of her ultrasound, somehow the more she learned about her baby—their baby—the more it hit home that Tony would never share the experience with her. That she was alone in this. That he’d died not even knowing she was pregnant. God, she hadn’t even realized herself. She’d assumed the light-headedness and nausea were due to being overwhelmed by all that had happened.

Her body jolted at the memory of the twenty-one-gun salute piercing the air at Tony’s funeral. The baby kicked back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, placing her palm against what looked like a tiny foot, until the little one calmed down. She pulled the end of her T-shirt down and dabbed her eyes, then took a deep breath. Was she being stupid? Was Taj right about getting a replacement? She had another OB-GYN appointment in Nairobi in just under two weeks. So far so good. Everyone was coaxing her to quit this job for the baby’s sake but she didn’t see it that way. This was home now. She needed to be here.

Man, it was hot today. She leaned her head back against the wall and pushed her side-swept, pixie-cut bangs off her forehead. She’d donated all twenty inches of her silky black locks before moving to Kenya.

She still wasn’t sure what had spurred her to cut it all off. On one hand, she’d wanted to help someone else since she had been feeling so helpless herself after Tony’s loss. But there had been practical reasons, too, given the rugged lifestyle she’d signed up for. And maybe subconsciously she’d been symbolically cutting ties to the past so that she could move forward to the future she and Tony had planned.

It was just her future, now. Hers and the baby’s.

What had she been thinking, falling for a marine? She’d reassured herself that he was a field hospital doctor, not a special missions guy. He’d been in Afghanistan to help the wounded, not to get wounded himself. Hospitals were supposed to have some level of protection. They weren’t supposed to be targets. But that hadn’t stopped him from being killed.

That attack had come from out of nowhere. Her throat tightened.

The baby did something akin to a summersault then lodged itself under her rib cage and stretched. Lexi let out a yelp and contorted sideways in her chair to try to accommodate the sudden move.

“You okay?” Jacey came running in but stopped and scrunched her face when she spotted Lexi. “Ew. That looks painful.”

“Looks painful?” Lexi gasped and held another breath. “I don’t think I’m carrying a human child. I’m convinced he or she is part alien or antelope...make that giraffe.” She tried nudging the little one away from her ribs. It didn’t work.

“You look like an alien is about to pop out of you,” Jacey said, kneeling next to her and patting Lexi’s protrusion. “Like in that old horror movie.”

“Thanks. That’s so comforting. Especially since I avoid horror movies like the plague. Does feel like the baby is going to pop out, though. I seriously hope he or she knows that up isn’t the way out.”

Jacey plopped onto her bottom, laughing, and crossed her legs. The baby shifted to a more normal position and Lexi let out a breath of relief.

“See?” Jacey said. “She settles down when I laugh. It happened last time, too. I’m already a good Auntie Jacey.”

Jacey was right. Laughter seemed to calm the baby, while Lexi getting anxious and thinking about the past seemed to make the baby irritable.

“Why do you keep saying ‘she’?”

“Just a gut feeling. Plus, it’s easier than saying ‘he or she’ every time, and nicer than calling her ‘it.’ ‘It’ kind of emphasizes the creepy alien-with-human-host factor.”

“Got it, Auntie. Promise me your bedtime stories will conjure up less freaky images in her mind.”

“You still sure you don’t want to spend the rest of your pregnancy in Nairobi before the rainy season hits? Or even head back to the US?”

“No. We’ve been through this. Plenty of people have raised kids out here and I’m not talking just the Masai and other tribes. You heard the story Hope told us about the vet who founded Busara. She raised her little girl out there when the camp was far, far more rustic than what we have here. And Mac and his wife have an adopted child and they live in a remote eco-camp. The point being, if others have done it, so can I.”

Mac Walker was a bush pilot originally from South Africa but who had lived in Kenya’s Serengeti region most of his adult life. He’d eventually become part owner of an eco-tourist camp—Camp Jamba-Walker—but still devoted flight hours to helping wildlife rescues and the Kenyan Wildlife Service with surveillance and reports of suspicious poaching activity in the area.

He was also a family friend of Dr. Hope and of Dr. Anna Bekker, the vet who’d founded the famous Busara Elephant Research and Rescue camp dedicated to rescuing baby elephants orphaned by poachers.

Mac had been instrumental in helping transport supplies to the clinic and he often flew Hope out. He’d also helped Lexi transition to the area during her initial weeks here. Even Taj hitched a ride with Mac whenever he could, to cut on commute time. Mac had a way of being everywhere and helping everyone.

“What if you end up with a complication in childbirth?” Jacey continued.

“You have a knack for putting things in such a reassuring way.” Lexi laughed. She knew Jacey meant well, though.

Lexi shifted back into a normal seated position and tugged her shirt over her belly. She was going to need something bigger very soon. Or perhaps she could get one of those giant shuka shawls the Masai wore and just drape it around herself. Come to think of it, maybe she should market the idea for maternity wear. “What if you stopped worrying so much? I go into Nairobi regularly for prenatal appointments and I take my vitamins. Heaven knows my diet out here with all the fruit, vegetables and whole grains is better than what I’d probably be eating if I had a grocery store around the corner. And between Hope coming out and you and Taj here, I’ll be fine. If a complication develops, I’ll head to the hospital. Promise.”

Truth was, she felt more comfortable out here giving birth naturally than in an overcrowded, underfunded hospital. And as illogical as she knew it to be, hospitals reminded her of death...of the last way she’d seen Tony. She needed to be as far away from that as possible.

“Fine. If you say so,” Jacey said, reknotting her hair at the base of her neck.

The grinding whir of a chopper broke up the chattering symphony of wildlife outside.

“Were we expecting Mac today?” Lexi asked, easing up from the chair and heading past Jacey.

Jacey stood and trotted after her. “Maybe it’s just KWS flying by.” The Kenyan Wildlife Service did pass over often enough, but they never sounded this close.

“Nope, it’s Mac.” Lexi shielded her eyes from the stab of late-afternoon sun and watched as Taj headed over to meet Mac.

Lexi and Jacey followed suit, waving as Mac got out of his chopper.

“You can only land here if you have ice cream on board,” Lexi called out.

Mac grinned and adjusted his cap.

“No luck, Lex. You should have warned me. How are you doing?” he asked, meeting them halfway.

“Excellent,” Lexi exaggerated. She appreciated all the concern but sometimes it got to be too much. It made her feel as if the pregnancy weakened her or made her more vulnerable. She didn’t like that idea. Plus, while she knew they meant well, she’d taken care of herself for so long she wasn’t comfortable with that much attention. She was self-sufficient and determined to be just fine. Why couldn’t everyone just stop worrying?

Mac gave a nod then braced his hands on his hips. His forehead creased and he scratched his jaw as he looked at all three of them.

“There’s word from KWS that they’ve had a few poaching incidents just southwest of here. They believe one of the poachers was injured before the group escaped. He might target the clinic, looking for supplies. Ben asked me to check on you and give you guys a heads-up. He couldn’t make it out here himself because of his broken leg. Another three weeks with that cast, according to Hope. She must have the patience of a saint. Two stir-crazy marines under one roof.”

After meeting Hope in the US and falling in love with her, Ben had moved to Nairobi with his children—Maddie, Chad and Ryan. He’d married Hope and founded a group that used ex-marines to help train KWS in security and methods for combatting poachers. Ben and Hope also had a child together, Philip. Chad was the only one who’d followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the marines, though.

“Well, Hope can always come here if she needs a break. Kick Taj out and we can make it a girls’ night off the grid,” Jacey said.

“Joking aside, does Ben think we’re in danger?” Lexi asked.

“No one’s been by here.” Taj frowned at Lexi and Jacey.

Lexi shook her head in agreement. “No sign of anything unusual. I don’t think the poacher would be stupid enough to come here for medical help,” she said.

“Hopefully not, but desperate people do desperate things,” Mac said.

Was she desperate? Was that why she’d chosen a life out here, as off the grid as possible? Desperate to cling to the future she’d planned with Tony or desperate to escape reminders of their life together back in the States? She pushed away those thoughts. Mac wasn’t talking about her.

“We’ll be careful, as usual,” Lexi said. “If anything suspicious is noted, you’ll hear about it. But I assure you, in the five months I’ve been here, life has been pretty routine. Not even a lion has checked out the place. Too much activity is my guess.”

“And doesn’t being near the Masai Mara ward the poachers off? I thought the area was protected.” Jacey folded her arms as if she’d put an end to the discussion.

“Technically the area is protected, but plenty of poachers find routes through the Mara. It’s true this particular group wasn’t close to the clinic, but it’s close enough to give you guys a heads-up. More eyes never hurt. And like I said, one of the poachers is injured and desperate. Combine that with access to a clinic... You do the math.”

“I’m sure he’d be more likely to head for the Tanzanian border than here,” Taj said.

Mac squinted at the sun and adjusted his cap.

“Maybe. But we can’t assume. The KWS have teams scouting the area approaching the border. No sign yet. But Hope and Ben are worried. This area has always been relatively safe and well monitored by Ben, but his crew is smaller than it used to be. Plus, he’s grounded with his broken leg and KWS is having to concentrate its efforts farther south. You understand he and Hope are preoccupied now with Chad, too, so Hope is considering shutting down the clinic, at least until they know it’s safe enough.”

Lexi’s chest tightened and she felt the baby kick. Shutting down the clinic? Leaving here would mean failing Tony, his relatives and the tribes they’d both sworn to help. She didn’t have the means to start a clinic on her own from scratch.

And for the first time in her life she finally felt like she was where she was meant to be. This was her life.

If she thought for a second they were truly in danger, especially her baby, she’d leave, but there was nothing in Mac’s report that warranted uprooting her life again or robbing the locals of needed medical care. She braced her hands on her disappearing waist.

“Wait a minute. They can’t shut this place down. We’re a necessity to the people of this area. The children need medical access. There have been no reports of poaching or dangerous people around here. A shutdown of the clinic is not warranted. Besides, Ben trained us in using the tranquilizer gun. Sure, it’s meant for dangerous animals bold enough to wander into our midst, but it would work just the same on a human. We’re fine,” Lexi said.

“I’m just letting you know it’s a possibility. And, for the record, poachers are bold and dangerous predators. If you weren’t pregnant when you first moved out here, I would have taken you to see evidence of just how ruthless they are. Your stomach wouldn’t have been able to handle the stench of the rotting elephant carcasses or the sight of their faces gone in the name of ivory and their orphaned calves standing near them. These men are pure evil.”

Lexi’s stomach twisted at the thought of a calf witnessing its mother’s murder. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She’d heard that elephants grieved deeply, too.

“Is this a ploy to scare me and get me to go back to the city because I’m pregnant?”

“This isn’t a joke, Lex. The truth is we’ve all lived with the realities of poaching. That’s why we have KWS and other groups constantly hunting them down and tracking evidence of their activities. We’ve all got homes in remote areas. I’m not saying you can’t stay here. The Mara and the area just south of it is full of tourists and campers. It’s usually safe enough, if you know how to handle the wildlife. But, like I said, the reason you specifically are at a higher level of risk is that this is a clinic and one of the poachers is injured. You have medicine that a wounded criminal might need badly enough to take the risk of attacking you.”

“Honestly,” Jacey said, “I can look out for things when Taj isn’t here. It doesn’t take a man, you know.”

Jacey was ex-army. She was pretty fearless and could kick butt if she had to. Lexi didn’t doubt she could protect them and the clinic. She’d seen the surprising amount of weight Jacey’s petite body could lift.

Mac held up his hands.

“No comment,” he said. “I wouldn’t dare challenge you two. But I will say that you also have a baby to consider. Ben and Hope just want to ensure that anyone working here is safe. Not just because it’s a liability issue, but because they care. Ben figured you’d want to stay, so he’s looking into finding security personnel to be stationed here full-time until KWS locates the escaped poacher.”

Lexi frowned. Full time security? Was she underestimating how dangerous things were?

“Is the situation that serious, Mac?”

“As I said, we’re just being careful. One of the KWS patrols used a thermal imager to sweep the area. They didn’t pick up any suspicious heat signatures in a three-kilometer radius of the clinic, so for now, you can stay put. All we’re saying is keep your radar up.”

Lexi was able to breathe again.

“Okay, then. He’ll find someone to help keep the place secure, for everyone’s peace of mind, and everything will be fine,” she said, looking at both Jacey and Taj, but she really needed to hear the words to reassure herself.

“You’ll know soon if they find someone. Hope told me she’s planning to fly out Friday. I’ll be dropping her off.”

“Then I can get a ride back with you on Friday instead of driving the jeep?” Taj asked. “This news about the poacher makes me want to stay here, but the hospital will be expecting me. Maybe things will have settled by then.”

“Sure, I can fly you out. The rest remains to be seen,” Mac said. “I’m out of here for now. I’d like to make it to Jamba-Walker before dusk. Be on alert.”

Taj folded his arms and Lexi almost missed the subtle nod and silent exchange between him and Mac.

She had to admit, she admired their sense of honor and appreciated their desire to protect. She really did. But she’d looked out for herself her entire life. She didn’t need rescuing now. Her maternal instincts only made her tougher—after all, her baby came first. But there were other children here whose lives and well-being depended on her and this clinic. She couldn’t abandon them. She owed them the same care she’d want for her child. Taj glanced at her and pressed his lips together. He understood. She knew he did.

“Lexi’s right,” he said. “We may be in the middle of nowhere, but we have Masai enkangs in all directions and other tribal villages. There are eyes everywhere. The poacher won’t risk it.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case. I didn’t mean to come down hard on you guys. I’ve just lived here a long time and I’ve seen things I’ll never be able to unsee,” Mac said, looking pointedly at Lexi.

“I get it. Thanks, Mac. For the heads-up on everything. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that this clinic is important,” Lexi said.

“No worries. I’ll let Ben know things are okay here for now. I’ll be in touch.” He waved and turned for his chopper.

Taj put his arm out to usher Lexi and Jacey back to the camp and a safe distance from the helicopter. They watched as Mac’s chopper lifted and disappeared over a copse of fig and mango trees.

“Time to cook,” Taj said, scrubbing at his jaw and scowling at the ground as he headed toward the bungalow.

But Lexi put a hand on his arm. “You can’t fool me. I know that look. Do. Not. Worry. Like he said, poachers have plagued the region forever and have never bothered the clinic. These spottings are no different from ones we’ve heard before. Like you said, we’re surrounded by Masai enkangs and farmland. We essentially have an army of warriors with spears around us. What more protection could you want?” Lexi said.

“You haven’t been here long enough,” Taj replied.

“I’m an army veteran, Taj. I can shoot better than you, I’m sure, and I’ve been known to take down men twice my size,” Jacey reminded him. With her gorgeous features and long hair, it was easy to forget that Jacey was a highly trained fighter.

Lexi looped her arm in Jacey’s.

“See, Taj? We women have ourselves covered. Think Amazon warriors,” Lexi said.

Taj raised a brow at her and glanced at her very pregnant belly.

“This isn’t the Amazon.”

No, it wasn’t. This was Africa. Kenya’s Serengeti region. And even if fighting poachers was a war unto itself, at least it wasn’t a military war zone in the traditional sense. This wasn’t the front lines of Afghanistan or Iraq or any other war-torn country. Her child would grow up—at least during his or her younger years—without being bombarded by depressing, heart-wrenching news from television and every form of social media, including phones.

It had seemed impossible to escape from it all when she was back in the States. She didn’t want her kid influenced by combat video games or pressure to serve. She needed to protect her child...to keep him or her from ending up like Tony.

He’d been counting the days until his service ended so that they could get on with their plans in Kenya. She believed in her gut that he wouldn’t have wanted his child enlisting, as he had. He’d mentioned once that if they ever had kids, he’d want to make sure they were connected to both sides of their heritage. That they would understand and respect their heritage.

Lexi wanted to stay at the clinic for him...for their child. And she didn’t need to draw strength from anyone else to get it done. She’d spent her entire life proving she was capable. A survivor. She laid a hand on her belly, squared her shoulders and looked pointedly at Taj.

“I’m tougher than you think I am,” she said. The baby fisted her side, as if in protest. She cupped the tiny fist in her hand as if silencing any argument.

I am more than fine. You will be, too. You’ll see.

But the image of the orphaned elephant standing beside its mother’s remains had struck a nerve. And, for the first time in a long time, a tiny, buried part of her felt almost vulnerable...and made her wonder just how strong she really was.

CHAPTER TWO

VIOLENT PAIN SEARED Chad’s right arm like a branding iron burning its way clear to the bone. Instinct had him grasping for his arm, desperate to stop the agony, but his left hand rammed against his right rib cage. He reached again, squeezing his eyes against the pain and swatting air before hitting his shoulder.

“No!” He fisted his hair and cursed a stream of words he only ever used around fellow marines on the battlefield—never in his parents’ home.

He forced himself to look at his side...to remind him that a wrapped stump was all that was left of his right arm. This time, the visual didn’t help to bring him under control.

He covered his face with his one hand and took deep breaths until the phantom pain subsided enough for him to stand. He walked across his old bedroom to where a half-empty glass of water sat on his wooden dresser. He took a long drink, a ritual he’d adopted to train his mind to stay grounded in the here and now. Pain like that had a way of weakening even the toughest warrior. It coaxed his mind into dark places. Sometimes it took him back to that day.

He walked over to the window, pressed his forehead against the cool glass, and looked out at the yard below. The flowering vines climbing the garden walls were more lush and dense than he remembered. Even the fig tree that flanked that far side of the grassy area had grown since he’d last been in Nairobi. A beautiful, serene and deceptively safe haven. That’s what “home” was now. An illusion. A false sense of security. There was nothing safe or beautiful about the world. War and evil were insidious.

They’d left a permanent mark on him—and taken him out of the fight.

They’d neutralized him and the realization that there was nothing he could do about it drove him mad. He would never fight again and that made him feel like a man trapped behind bars, unable to do anything but watch and scream while criminals tortured helpless people. He wasn’t supposed to be the helpless one.

He’d heard of injured vets, even minor amputees, getting permission to reenlist, though they were often reassigned to more “appropriate” jobs. But first they had to be cleared by a psych test to be sound of mind, free of post-traumatic stress and not suffering from debilitating phantom pain.

He failed all three of those qualifications. Six-and-a-half months since the blast and still suffering.

He turned and stood in front of the intricately carved wood mirror that hung over his dresser. Twisted, dark-pink burn scars wrapped around half of his back and up the right side of his neck. Quarter-inch scars mottled his right cheek where surgeons had removed embedded debris. It was a miracle he still had his eyes. Though sometimes he wondered if that was its own form of torture.

Here he was at twenty-four, supposedly the prime of his life, and he was this. He was—had been—right-handed. He’d lost his dominance in more ways than one. But he still had his sight, just so that he could wake up every morning and be met with the monster that was left of him. Just so that he could see the looks of pity on the faces of others. Sometimes he wished he’d never woken up from the medically induced coma he’d been kept in for weeks. Everyone kept saying he was lucky that he’d recovered, for the most part, from the traumatic brain injury he’d also suffered in the blast.

“Chad?” His mother rapped at the door. He hurried to the bed and lay on top of the traditionally woven bedspread, then picked up the magazine he’d abandoned earlier because putting it down every time he had to turn a page had worn on his patience. His mother eased the door open and peered inside.

“Chad.” She came in and closed the door behind her.

“Hey, what’s up?” He hoped he sounded as calm and cool as possible. He didn’t want his mom worrying about him anymore. As a doctor, Hope worried enough about everyone under her care, and she, along with his dad, had spent most of the past year by his side in the States. He’d given them both gray hairs and creases around their eyes these last few months. He’d taken them away from his younger brothers—even if Ryan and Philip were off in college—and their first grandchild.

His older sister, Maddie, and her husband, Haki, had a fifteen-month-old baby. They lived in Kenya’s Serengeti where Haki ran a rural veterinary clinic that catered to the livestock needs of the tribal herdsmen. With a toddler, they definitely could have used Hope’s help, but instead Chad’s mother had been caring for him. He was burdening them all.

His dad, too. As an ex-marine, his dad was good at masking what was going through his head, but Chad could see past the firm “Suck it up, Marine” attitude. Still, he seemed to be emphasizing his own efforts to carry on despite the cast he was sporting. At least that was temporary. Chad’s amputation wasn’t.

Chad knew this wasn’t how either of his parents had envisioned his future.

“Don’t pretend. I heard you. If the pain is that bad, take something,” Hope said.

“I’m not taking any more drugs,” he said, sitting upright and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

You still have everything from the waist down, man. Count your blessings.

“We can switch medic—”

“No.” Painkillers only stole what was left of him.

“Then what? Let me do something. Let me help.”

“I’m fine. Honestly, Mom. It was just a sudden shooting pain. It went away. I’m all good now. Hungry, actually.”

He wasn’t.

He tossed the magazine aside and stood. He motioned to the doorway.

“After you.”

“You can’t fool a mother, Chad. I know you think feeding you will distract me. I’ll do it because, yes, it’ll make me feel a little better, but you can’t sit up here like this for hours on end.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Then let’s head down and eat,” he said, limping slightly ahead of her before she could say more. The deep shrapnel scars in his right hip and thigh tugged with each step. He could hear her following. “Am I smelling chapati and nyama? I thought Jamal and Dalila were with their grandkids today.”

Jamal and Dalila were like grandparents. They’d worked as driver, cook and nannies for Hope’s parents, also doctors in Nairobi, since she’d been born. They’d stayed on with the family—really as part of the family—and continued to help when Hope married Ben and adopted his three children and then when the couple had their own baby, Philip.

None of them cared who was blood related and who wasn’t. They’d always been a family in the tightest sense of the word.

The aroma of beef, onion, curried spices, vegetables and warm flatbread wafted up the stairwell. Chad’s stomach grumbled loudly. Maybe he was hungry. Funny that hunger was the one pain he rarely felt.

“Yes. Dalila cooked her famous stew early this morning before leaving. For ‘her Chad,’ as she put it. I just warmed it all up for lunch.”

Lunch? Had he really been in his room that long?

“She’s a kitchen goddess,” he said, quirking the corner of his mouth up. He reached for the banister and clenched his jaw when he realized he’d tried reaching with his right arm. How many more months or years was it going to take for his brain to adjust?

He made his way down the curved staircase, placing his hand against the left wall for balance when he felt a twinge in his right hip.

“I have an ironsmith coming in a few days to make a matching banister for the left side,” Hope said.

“Cancel the appointment. You don’t have to change anything on my account. I’ll manage.”

“I know we don’t have to. Your father and I want to. It’s not a big deal. He said he’ll be back in time for lunch. He got a ride to the office. He needed to sign off on some new recruit applications. I told him someone could bring the paperwork to the house, but he was desperate to get out.”

Ben’s work with KWS and the Kenyan armed forces to combat ruthless poachers was just another example of how evil existed even at home. There was no escaping it...a fact that made Chad’s blood curdle, especially now that there was nothing he could do about it.

His father had always been his role model...someone whose expectations he’d always tried to live up to. After Chad’s biological mother was killed by a reckless drunk driver when Chad was only four, and his dad had retreated into a shell, Chad had quickly caught on to the fact that the only way for his father to notice him was to try to be just like him. He probably already was on some level, behavioral genetics and all.

But as soon as he was old enough to really understand how needlessly his mother had lost her life and how rampant violence and war were in the news, Chad had understood what had really driven his father to serve. And it had become Chad’s mission, too.

Roosevelt, the family dog, came bounding up just as Chad cleared the last step. But rather than colliding into Chad or jumping up on him, the four-year-old mix padded around him, wagging his tail and sniffing.

“He’s finally outgrowing some of that puppy energy,” Hope said.

Chad’s eyes stung as he reached down and scratched Roosevelt behind the ear. Losing Aries in action still gouged him in the heart.

Roosevelt licked his hand. The dog knew. His behavior had nothing to do with outgrowing puppyhood, if that even happened for dogs with any Golden or Lab in the mix. Nope. Chad had no doubt Roosevelt sensed something was wrong. Dogs could smell disease and injury. They mourned loss. And Chad had lost more than his arm. When the doctors had brought him out of his induced coma, he’d discovered that Aries had died in the blast and his best friend, Tony, had been killed only a week after the blast that injured Chad.

Chad walked across the living room with the dog at his heels and opened the glass patio doors that led to their garden. He could hear his mom tinkering in the kitchen. He sat on the top step leading out onto the grass, grabbed a rubber ball and tossed it. It took a curved path into the base of a flowering bougainvillea—far from the tree he’d been aiming for. Roosevelt didn’t seem to care one way or the other. His mother’s vine, however, didn’t look too happy.

“Here’s some iced tea. Extra lemon, the way you like it,” his mom said, as she stepped outside and sat next to him. She handed him a glass then took a long drink from her own.

“Sorry about your vine,” Chad half muttered, setting the glass down next to him. He was screwing up even something as benign as tossing a dog a ball. It was hard to believe he’d once handled and trained military dogs. Now he couldn’t even play fetch right. How long would it take to really get comfortable with using his left arm for anything other than general use? He still couldn’t sign his name legibly with his left hand, let alone aim a ball with any accuracy...or a firearm, for that matter.

He’d received an honorable discharge from the marines. A medal, to boot. So why wasn’t he feeling an ounce of pride at the moment?

“Are you kidding me? Any of the plants you see here survived Roosevelt’s initial puppy years. They’ll survive anything at this point,” Hope said.

Chad hated hearing a double meaning in everything, even when it wasn’t intended. He scratched his hair back and took a swig of tart tea.

“I guess.”

“You know, tossing that ball is good for you. I know we’re setting up additional physical therapy now that you’re here—ah, don’t argue about that right now—but really, there’s a lot you can do on your own. Though maybe we should put up a small soccer goal, just so that you don’t torture that tree when your skills sharpen,” she teased.

Chad grinned. Leave it to his mom to get a smile out of him. He actually appreciated that she didn’t shy away from the facts.

“How’d you guess the tree was my target?”

“That’s classified information.”

“Right.” A brief laugh escaped him. Roosevelt came running back with a rubber bone. “Wait a minute. I’m pretty sure I threw a ball.”

“Who knows how many toys are hidden out there. I’m beginning to think your father hides them just so he can have an excuse to buy more,” Hope said.

It had taken forever for Ben to give in to the “free” puppy Maddie had brought home for Philip when he was still in high school. He’d seen how devastating it could be for a marine to lose his canine—his friend had lost his dog in battle, a dog named Wolf, back when Ben had lost his wife, Zoe.

For years, Ben had refused to get a family dog, out of fear of reliving that kind of pain. But Roosevelt had been a blessing since day one and, once Philip had left for college, Ben had ended up bonding with the dog.

Chad took the bone and tried tossing it Frisbee style. This time it veered left and landed mid-yard.

“I don’t want to deal with physical therapists anymore. I worked with them long enough before coming home. It’s not helping.”

“You have to give it time.”

“It’s not doing anything.”

“Chad, you have to try. You won’t get better by sitting around here. You have to have physical training. I’m not just saying this as your mother. I know this as a doctor.”

“Get better? Have you looked at me? I won’t ever ‘get better.’ That implies a full recovery. That’s a physical impossibility for me.”

His pulse pounded at his temples and his eyes burned. He hated feeling cornered. The pressure everyone had been putting on him to get up and take action, as if he was lazy or wallowing in self-pity, was as irritating as the scars that still itched relentlessly. This wasn’t about self-pity. This was about everyone thinking they knew what he was going through. But they didn’t know what he needed. No one could.

His mom pressed her fingers to her eyes. Roosevelt stood with his bone in his mouth, waiting. He looked between the two of them. The dog’s tail slowed to a pitiful pace. Chad stared at him but made no move to play. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or frustration, but this feeling that tightened his chest and squeezed at his throat whenever anyone insisted he should make an effort to get better paralyzed him.

Roosevelt let out a short whimper then dropped the bone and settled at Chad’s feet.

“Do you really want to know what I see when I look at you?”

Hope laced her fingers and tucked them in her lap. She paused and the way her dark brown eyes glistened pinched at his conscience. He didn’t want to hurt her. He really didn’t. Hope had always been the glue for their family. She was the voice of reason...the heart and soul of their family. She’d essentially saved them all from spiraling down and falling apart after Zoe’s death.

But there wasn’t anything to save now. Sure, he was alive, but she couldn’t change the fact that he’d never be the same again. That the future he’d always envisioned would never happen.

All he’d ever wanted was to be a marine. To fight the bad guys and rise in the ranks. To avenge the death of everyone he’d lost in life. To try to extinguish evil so that the rest of his family could have safe, long lives. He wasn’t unreasonable. He knew he couldn’t stop death altogether or keep random accidents from happening. But he could pick the worst of the worst and stop them from terrorizing the world. That’s why he’d joined the marines.

He’d never considered settling into civilian life, let alone trying to map out a new future without his mind and body whole.

Hope put a hand on his knee.

“I see Chad. I see you as the rambunctious, overactive toddler I first met. I see you as the incorrigible, confident, adrenaline-loving teen. I see the valiant, focused and proud-to-follow-in-his-father’s-footsteps man you were when you joined the marines. I see you, Chad.

“I know you too well and love you too much to look at only the surface. I’ve also witnessed your inner strength and drive. The kid I raised never gave up on anything. If he had, your dad and I may have held out a few more years before getting gray hairs. These injuries? They’re obstacles, yes. But they’re not you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mom. These injuries...what happened to me and the memory of it...they are me now. We’re the sum of our experiences. Aren’t we?”

She hugged her arms around her waist and glanced up at the cloudless sky. She couldn’t answer because he was right. She took a deep breath and held it for a fraction of a second before letting it go.

“Have you ever considered that your mama Zoe was your guardian angel on the day of the explosion? That she’s the reason you’re alive? Because that would be a gift. A gift from her. Not a punishment. You’re right that we’re the sum of our experiences. But we hold those experiences in our minds...in our souls...not our bodies.”

Chad gritted his teeth and shot up, his thigh bumping into his glass of tea. The glass tipped over and broke, causing the dog to startle and jump up onto all fours.

Hope’s hand flew to her chest for a brief second before she moved to clean up the glass.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get this,” she said, setting her own tea down on the far side of the steps.

He didn’t miss the quiver in her voice. A part of him cared; a part of him didn’t. Heat washed through him and that sharp phantom pain shot through his missing arm again. He dug his nails into the back of his neck.

“Don’t. Stop trying to fix things. I’m not broken glass. You can’t just pick up the pieces. You know what people do with shattered glass? They sweep it up and toss it in the trash. I love you, Mom, but you don’t get it. You can’t come even close to understanding what it’s like to be me right now. Don’t you dare tell me my body doesn’t matter.”

With that, he stormed back in the house, trying hard to ignore the breathless sobs and clinking of glass shards he left in his wake.

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