I reach out and squeeze Nix’s hand. I don’t know him other than the two times I’ve met him, but the emotion that swells in his voice tells me all I need to know about the man beside me. Gunner may be a hero in Nixon’s eyes, but Nix was also in that firefight. He’s a hero too.

They both made sacrifices. Something the men and women sitting around me possibly have too.

Silent heroes.

Unsung.

Humble.

No wonder they congregate here at a bar where others understand them. No wonder they’re inseparable. No wonder I—

“He was alive. Barely. Shrapnel had hit him everywhere. He was a goddamn mess while the other two he had tried to bring to safety didn’t make it.”

“Jesus.” I take a sip of my drink as I stare at Gunner laughing at the other end of the bar. I think of the scars on his chest. Of the physical damage to his body that probably has nothing on the psychological damage. And yet there he is, lighting up the whole damn room with his infectious smile and quick-witted sense of humor. “No wonder you two are like brothers.”

“There’s definitely a bond between us that I can’t really put words to.”

“Are you part owner of this place?” I ask.

His smile is slight. His eyes somber. “He opened it in their memory. The men he wasn’t able to save. We all pitched in with the start-up money, but he’s since paid us all back. He said he had to have a clear conscience with his debts before he started sending a percentage of the profits every month to the families of those who didn’t make it.”

“Wait. What?” I ask, wanting to make sure I heard him correctly. But I did. I know I did and the slight lift of his chin toward Gunner affirms it.

“Yep. You heard right. He busts his ass day in and day out and then sends money to the wives of the men he didn’t save, because it eats at him that much.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” I sputter.

“I know what you mean.” He chuckles and lifts his empty beer in the direction of Gunner when he looks our way. “It’s hard to believe men as good as him really exist.”

“It is,” I say quietly as Gunner makes his way toward us, sliding tips off the bar and putting them into a jar behind the table as he goes.

“Are you two going to cause me trouble?” he asks and grins when he reaches us.

“Always,” I say and smile, wanting to stare at him, study him, a little longer than is normal.

“Then I’ll stay over there.” He laughs and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “I have two burgers coming up for you guys. Is that okay?”