I even opted out of eating dinner with Brynna and the girls, insisting that I’d eaten a big lunch at work.

I’m fucking starving.

I frown as Bix saunters around the kitchen island, sniffing for any scraps that may have fallen while Brynna made dinner and comes to me for an ear rub.

“Hey, boy,” I whisper and kiss his cheek while I rub him down. “How are you feeling?”

Bix nudges my chin with his head and sits next to me on the floor, enjoying the attention.

“You’re such a faker,” I mumble with a laugh. “You get more attention from those two little girls than you have in your whole life.”

He grins up at me and moans as I rub the sensitive area around his injured ear.

“Does that still give you problems, boy?” I ask with a whisper and gently massage the tender area.

“What’s wrong with him?”

I glance up, surprised to see Maddie standing in the kitchen and I didn’t hear her approach. She’s in a long nightgown, her dark hair is still wet from her bath, but it’s been combed to hang over her shoulders. She’s barefoot and is holding her doll close to her chest.

She’s all fresh and clean and just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Nothing, buttercup,” I respond and smile. “Sometimes his ear just hurts.”

“Oh,” She frowns and watches me rub Bix’s face. “Poor Bix.”

“He’s okay,” I reassure her. “What are you up to?”

“I want you to read us a story and tuck us in, so Mom said I should come find you.”

She watches me with wide sleepy eyes.

“Shall we take Bix up and read a story?” I ask her with a smile.

“Yes, please,” she responds happily.

I rise from my seat on the floor and motion for Bix to follow us up the stairs. Brynna is just coming out of the girls’ room as we approach and she hugs Maddie tight and grins at her.

“Good night, baby girl,” Brynna croons to her daughter.

“’Night, Mama,” Maddie responds and jumps up into her bed. Bix happily curls up on his bed between the two, but he’s not fooling me.

He’ll be up on one of their beds as soon as I turn the light out and leave.

“You and I need to talk,” Brynna murmurs to me before turning and walking down the stairs.

Yeah, we do, Legs.

“Come over here with us, jellybean, and we’ll read a story.”

Josie climbs into Maddie’s bed and the two little girls curl up together. “I want Ferdinand,” Josie informs me.

“Ferdinand it is, then,” I grin and find the book about the bull on their bookshelf before sitting on the edge of the bed to read.

Bix sighs as I begin the story about a bull who is content to just sit and smell the flowers under his favorite cork tree. The girls settle in and watch the pictures as I read, making my voice different for the different characters. They yawn, their eyes growing heavy.

By the time I reach the end, they both have their eyes closed and are breathing deeply with sleep. Rather than wake Josie and make her get up out of Maddie’s bed to get into her own, I lift her carefully and carry her to her bed, tucking her in.

Before I can pull away, she tightens her arms around my neck in a hug and whispers, “Love you, Daddy.”

My heart stops as she wiggles away, turns on her side, and sighs as she falls back to sleep.

Suddenly, I feel a sheen of sweat form on my forehead and pulling air in and out of my lungs is a struggle.

I need out of here.

I back out of the girls’ room, turn out the light and walk quickly down the hall through Brynna’s bedroom to the bathroom and turn the faucet on cold, briskly splashing it over my face, over and over again, not caring that I’m splashing water all over the floor, the sink, down my shirt.

I stop and lean my hands on the countertop, staring at my own refection, water dripping, panting, trying to drag enough air into my lungs.

Rat tat tat tat tat!

“Move, move, move! Retreat!” I called to my men in the wilderness of Afghanistan. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Marshall is down!” Lewis yelled at me from twenty yards away, shooting with precise calm at the Taliban that ambushed us.

“Fuck!”

“I’m going up the hill to try to call for help,” Bates, the fourth on our team informed me.

“No, we stay together,” I shook my head and aimed my rifle, taking out another of the enemy.

“We need backup, man,” Lewis called over.

“You’ll get hit,” I call to Bates as we make our way through the trees. “There are at least fifty of them!”

“We need backup,” Bates repeats and looked me square in the eye. “I’m going up.”

Before I could respond, he ducked and ran back up the hill to get to high ground for the communication unit to work and Lewis and I opened fire, covering him.

“Three O’clock!” Lewis screamed and I turned to my right, firing, taking out three more Taliban.

My eyes searched for Bates and found him, still making his way up the mountain.

Suddenly, I heard Lewis grunt and as I looked his way, he dropped to one knee, but kept firing.

“Are you hit?” I asked.

“Affirmative, sir,” he called back and continued to fire.

“How bad?”

He didn’t answer. Looking up, Bates had reached the top and was setting up the comm unit when suddenly a bullet caught him in the right shoulder, knocking him back. He grimaced, but pushed on, raised the CB to his mouth, calling for help. Another bullet pierced the hand holding the mouthpiece, but damn if he didn’t pick it up with his other hand and kept talking.