The two men Gavin had been thinking of when he’d brought up the idea. “I’m assuming you have your weekly lunch with them today?”

“Of course. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” Gavin hung up the phone and thought about Kaylynn. She was ten years younger than he was. They’d lived in the same household for eight years before he’d gone off to college, then joined the Army, and during that time, they’d never been particularly close, simply because he’d been into teenage guy stuff and she’d been . . . a girl. He loved her, and hated they didn’t have much of a relationship, but that came with the nature of his career path. However, at least they’d spoken to each other regularly. Until a year ago. He’d been home for Christmas break and caught her boyfriend sniffing a line of cocaine in the guest room.

Gavin had thrown him out and threatened him with great bodily harm if he ever came near his sister or family again. Kaylynn had overheard the entire exchange but hadn’t said a word to him. Just looked at him with her big expressive eyes and slipped into her room. He hadn’t seen her before he’d had to head back to Afghanistan, and they’d barely exchanged two paragraphs’ worth of words since. But that was wrong. It was time to make sure she knew he loved her.

And just as soon as he made sure Sarah was safe, he vowed to do just that.

He prayed he wasn’t too late.

The door opened. Finally. And the doctor stepped inside.

“Hello, Sarah, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, but I’d had three cups of coffee and simply couldn’t wait a minute longer.” She laughed at herself and Sarah instantly liked the woman. And that was one question answered. “So,” the woman held out her hand and Sarah shook it. “I’m Dr. Melissa McCandless. You can call me Mel. How are you doing today?”

Mel’s bubbly personality went a long way toward putting Sarah at ease—and making her feel even more guilty for lying her way through the door. “I’m doing better today than I was when I called, but thank you for agreeing to see me so quickly.”

“Of course. Why don’t you have a seat and you can tell me what’s going on.”

Sarah sat. Crossed her legs. Then uncrossed them. She blew out a breath. “I’m nervous. Sorry.”

“I could say, ‘Don’t be,’ but have found that doesn’t help much.”

A laugh slipped out. “I guess not. Okay, first things first, I have to confess. I’m not suicidal. I only alluded to that so I could get a quick appointment. So, I’m sorry. And if you don’t want to talk to me, I understand.”

The doctor studied her. “I see.”