She waved a hand in front of her eyes to combat the tears that suddenly appeared. “Nightmares. They’ll go away, I’m sure. I’m doing all the things.” Before he could say anything else, she turned to her father. “Daddy, you remember Captain Norton.”

“Yes, of course. We met briefly that night of the dinner. Captain,” her father said, putting a hand out, “it is a pleasure. I am thankful for another opportunity to speak to you in person. I know you were fundamental in keeping my daughter safe. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Sir, it was a pleasure to get to know her. She is an incredible woman, and you should be proud of the way she handled herself in the midst of crisis after crisis.”

Heat filled Cynthia’s cheeks, and she put a hand on her father’s arm. “I can assure you that half of my handling myself was arguing with him.” She smiled. “I’m sure I could have made his job a little easier.”

Everyone went to their seats, and the president spoke a few more words. After he finished the ceremony and left the room, Cynthia sought out Rick. “I understand we’re having lunch as well,” she said without preamble.

He turned from talking to Peña and said, “So I’ve been informed. At least there isn’t a ball in our honor,” he teased.

Unsure what to say, she waved a hand in the general direction of her father. “I have to ride with the motorcade. See you there?”

“Hey, Doc,” Peña said, stepping around Rick and taking her by the arm. “Is there room in that motorcade for one more?”

She blinked and processed his question. “Of course! Do you want to ride with me?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I would, but I think Daddy would be better served to accept that honor.”

As he walked away laughing, she turned to Rick. Heat flushing her face, she cleared her throat and asked, “Would you like to ride with me? Us! Would you, um, ride with us?”

When he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks. His beard had covered those. “I’d be honored.”

They walked behind her father and his team. “Nightmares, huh?” he said.

She rubbed her arms and nodded. “I’m at the point that I’m afraid to go to sleep.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“My uncle is a pastor and a counselor. I’ve spoken to him a couple of times.”

“I’m sure he’s great. But you might be better off working with a counselor trained in war-related PTSD, which is what you’re suffering from. Your mind is processing everything that happened and compensating for the horrors of what you experienced and witnessed. There are people specially trained who can help you process and learn coping mechanisms to keep the nightmares at bay.”