“I know I am. But I also know if you like her this much, then don’t be playing those stupid-ass games men like to play. Call her. See her. Enjoy her. You know better than most that life is too goddamn short to play games.”

“Amen to that,” I murmur and close my eyes again to block the flashbacks that come when I do.

The acrid smell.

The concussive blast.

The violent pain.

The world falling apart all around me.

And the carnage when it was all over.

I shake my head to rid it of the past. Of the memories that I’ll never get over, never forget, but somehow need to move on from.

“Trey is struggling,” I say, because it’s easier to focus on one of the kids than it is to focus on me.

“I know and it’s heartbreaking.”

“It’s always heartbreaking,” I say, as I think of the little boy and his big gray eyes. How they looked up at me with huge alligator tears in them as he asked me why his daddy wasn’t coming home.

“You remember that far back, yeah?” she asks. There’s a reason we both do this. Two army brats who both lost our fathers and then became soldiers ourselves.

“Bits and pieces, but sometimes I wonder what’s real versus what I’ve seen in pictures and then fabricated in my mind from there.”

“I think we’re all like that.”

“But more than anything, I remember looking out the window and even though I’d been told he wasn’t coming back, still looking for him to come up the walkway in his uniform with those black boots squeaking as he went.”

She nods and places a hand on my thigh. “We do good here, Gunny. It’s easy to lose sight of that sometimes, but we make a difference.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have to get going. I know one of my boys is probably already complaining and wondering what’s for dinner.” She chuckles, stands, takes a few steps, and then kicks the toe of my shoes. “Don’t think I’m not noticing that you’re not addressing Wendy’s resignation today.”

I squint when I look up at her. “I’m not ignoring it. I’ll find someone. It’s a temporary job, so it can’t be that hard to fill.”

“Yeah, but until you do, the two of us are stuck doing it, and this momma doesn’t have any more time to give.”

“I’ll take care of it or will find someone who can fill in a few hours to help us out. Not a problem.” But it is a problem because like Ellie, I don’t have more time to give . . . but unlike her, I don’t have a family.

A family to watch me coming up the walkway.

A family to go home to.