Chapter 1
Hours after my husband’s military funeral, my family decided my grief was inconvenient.
They looked at my five-month pregnant belly.
Then at the bedroom Marcus had built with his own hands.
Then my sister said, “Raymond needs your room. You can sleep in the garage.”
I thought I had misheard her.
“The garage?”
Victoria sighed like I was being difficult.
“It’s temporary. Raymond needs quiet for his investment calls.”
Outside, frost glazed the windows.
Inside, I stood barefoot in Marcus’s old Army T-shirt, still smelling faintly of cedar soap and smoke.
My father folded his newspaper.
“Stop making Thanksgiving miserable, Amelia. Your crying is ruining the house.”
My mother stirred cream into her coffee.
“Put your things against the wall. Don’t block Raymond’s Audi.”
Raymond laughed and spun his keys around one finger.
No one mentioned that Marcus bought this house.
No one mentioned that he paid the mortgage.
No one mentioned that he died serving a country my family only respected when it made a good story at dinner.
They saw a pregnant widow.
Tired.
Broken.
Dependent.
They had no idea I was still active duty.
They had no idea Marcus and I had spent twelve years under classified cover.
To them, he was a government consultant.
To them, I filed paperwork.
They did not know my emergency leave had ended last night.
They did not know extraction orders had already been issued.
They did not know who was coming.
So I smiled.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll move.”
Relief passed over their faces.
I carried one box into the freezing garage.
The baby kicked hard beneath my ribs.
Then engines growled down the street.
Raymond froze beside his Audi.
Three black military vehicles turned into the driveway.
A soldier stepped out, walked past my family, and stopped in front of me.
May you like
He saluted.
“Colonel Walker,” he said. “We are here to bring you in.”
