He shrugs. “Short story? Because it makes me feel good. Long story?” He blows out a long exhale and shoves his hands in his pockets as he looks straight ahead instead of me. “Because I have a lot of guilt over those I couldn’t save. The ones who left behind little boys who’ll never see them again. Little boys who’ll struggle to know what it means to be a man. So I help teach them a bit of that as an apology that I couldn’t, in fact, save them.”

I blink away the tears he can’t see as he falls quiet. There’s nothing I can say to give anywhere near enough praise for what he’s doing.

“Gunner. I don’t even know—”

“I have an idea,” he says, knocking all words of praise from my lips when he faces me with a big grin and his huge brown eyes.

“What?”

“You said you’re researching military life, right?”

Shit. “Yes. I am,” I lie and don’t feel good about doing it at all.

“Are you looking for work? Do you know anything about sports? We could use help if you want to give it.” His questions come out rapid-fire.

“I’m nowhere near following you right now.”

“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean to imply that you need work or a handout or—”

“What do you need help with?” I ask.

“It’s not that. I mean sure, we need help—we always need help since we’re strictly volunteer based—but if you’re looking to write about military life—real military life—then you need to make sure to talk about the kids. The military brats and what they’re struggling through and those organizations that try to help them.”

I stare at Gunner with the oddest sense of resolution. The same sense I get when I want a client and know I’m going to win them over.

Maybe you need to find a cause.

Lennox’s words ghost through my mind as I stare at a man, who’s not only a hero—according to Nix—but who continues to be one even after he was discharged from service.

“Do you know anything about sports?” he asks, and I stare at him doe-eyed, trying to not laugh at the irony of the question.

“Sports?”

“Bats. Balls. Goals. Baskets. Mismatched uniforms. That kind of thing,” he teases.

I swat at him. “Of course, I know sports. Who doesn’t?”