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The edges still had a sewn-up look, faint dots beside the seam where the knots of each stitch had been Whoever sewed him up did it really quickly

It wasn’t a surgical scar -- that was for sure It was an injury, the stitches looked like they saved his life but only just

“Oh,back “How…”

He sighed and covered his eyes with a hand, then pounded his temple with a fist “I’m so sorry, Miranda I didn’t think…”

“What is that?” I said, ht “What happened? You never told me…”

He sighed heavily “You don’t want to talk about your sad story? I don’t want to talk about mine”

“Where did you get that?” I said, undeterred, every ounce of desire seeping out of hanistan?”

He nodded “Shrapnel from an IED”

The scar brought everything back toa routine trainingout, their hats in hands Jeanne cru onto the floor as she realized what their presenceto hear the truth, coveringtrue

Dan was dead…

“I…” I sed hard, rief even alot the news “I don’t know…”

“Don’t,” he said and reached out for ain, but I couldn’t respond, ain to the war and to Dan “Let it go”

“It’s just that,” I said,“My husband…”

He touchedmy lips “You’re married?”

I frowned “Widowed,” I said, hanistan a year ago…” I didn’t want to say another word, because it was still raw – the emotion connected to his memory