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graveside and Michelle saw a few familiar faces from the Navy and Marines.
    Michelle had been looking for one man in particular but so far she hadn’t seen him. When she’d received the call from a friend about Winter’s suicide she’d been absolutely floored. He’d been such a strong and vibrant man. He was the kind of guy that people would willingly follow not because he outranked them, but because he was a genuinely good leader. Never in a thousand years did she think that he’d eat his gun because of PTSD.
    Before the image of his last moments could fully form in her mind she forced herself to think about something else. Scanning the crowd on the other side of the coffin she caught a glimpse of weary hazel eyes staring in her direction her whole world froze.
    Wyatt.
    He looked away when he saw she’d noticed him and moved back into the crowd. That one glimpse of his face set off all the alarm bells in her head, and she had to keep herself from pushing through the mourners to find him. The priest droned on but she no longer heard the words, her thoughts too focused on Wyatt. Dark circles stood out beneath his eyes and his hair was a tad longer than she remembered. There was a gaunt look to his face that she’d never seen before. He must have returned from Walter Reed recently because she’d been keeping an eye out for him in Austin.
    She wondered if he was shocked to see her but, then again, while he was recovering at Walter Reed she’d casually mentioned in a letter she’d written to him that she’d accepted a position at a free clinic in Austin. While she hadn’t expected him to write back confessing his love for her, the fact that he hadn’t written her back at all hurt. She’d thought they had a connection, something special, but it had apparently all been her imagination.
    The service ended and people began to disperse to their cars. She spotted Wyatt by his dark hair and pinstriped grey suit as he walked between the gravestones to a big, dark green truck parked away from the rest of the mourners. After saying a few quick goodbyes she followed Wyatt, her attention focused on him with the precision of a laser. She tried to tell herself it was because she was worried about him, but she knew in her heart of hearts it was more.
    A lot more.
    He reached his truck and opened the passenger door before leaning inside. A second later, he straightened up and rested against the side of the truck. Something silver flashed in the sunlight and her stomach dropped when she realized he was chugging from a hip flask that probably wasn’t filled with Kool-Aid. Anger mixed with her concern and she quickened her pace.
    He glanced up right before she reached him and tried to hide the flask behind his back with a guilty look. His black suit hung off of him and she was pretty sure he’d dropped at least twenty pounds. Sure, he could have lost muscle mass while recovering from his wounds, but she didn’t think so. The lines around his mouth were deeper, and he hadn’t even bothered to shave. She almost didn’t recognize him as the strong, dependable man she’d known in Afghanistan. He studied her for a moment before his posture changed from a guilty slouch to an arrogant lean. Then he turned on the charm, giving her the smile that never failed to make her heart skip a beat
    “Lieutenant, I’m surprised to see you here.”
    “Callahan, what the fuck are you doing?”
    He flushed. “Same as you, attending the funeral. What're you doing in Austin?”
    “I live here.” She frowned at his surprised look. “Didn’t you get my letter?”
    “What letter?”
    “The one I sent you at Walter Reed.”
    “No.” He shoved the flask in his jacket pocket and started to turn away. “I’ve gotta go. Maybe we can get together sometime.”
    She pushed at his shoulder, turning him to face her again. “If you think I’m going to let you drive, you're probably high as well as drunk.”
    “I’m not drunk,” he snarled and