With purposeful steps, she walked down the sidewalk and then up his drive. She rang the doorbell right at six. Within a second, he opened the door. He looked at her, then past her. “No car?”

“Not tonight.” She smiled up at him, her heart beating so painfully fast she could feel her pulse in her neck. He looked tired, but it felt so good to lay eyes on him.

He stepped aside and she walked in. Through the doorway of the kitchen, she could see steam coming from a pot on the stove. He led the way past the kitchen and into the living room. He had moving boxes stacked everywhere.

“They didn’t even give you time to get unpacked?”

He shrugged and gestured to the sliding door that led to the back patio. “Sometimes you can’t control the timing of things. I have some meat ready for the grill.”

She followed him outside. On the concrete deck he had a glass-topped table that he’d set with plates and forks. She sat down in one of the chairs as he picked up a platter wrapped with aluminum foil and walked over to the grill. Heat waves radiated from it, distorting the evening air.

“Hope salmon is all right,” he said, using tongs to put a salmon fillet on the grill. “It sounded really good.”

“Grilled salmon will be amazing.” She nervously clutched her hands together and waited for his full attention.

He put the platter down and took the seat across from her. “I listened to my voice mail. I’d just like to know one thing.”

Her mouth went dry, and she ran her tongue over her lips. “Anything.”

He studied her face for several seconds before he asked, “Why?”

She took a shaky breath. “Because by getting a job at this military hospital, I’ll be in the system and should be able to find jobs wherever you go.” Deciding not to beat around the bush, she said, “Because I love you. I love you, and I want to love you on your terms, not mine.”

It fascinated her how he didn’t move a single muscle as he processed what she said. He sat perfectly still and perfectly stoic. Eventually he asked again, “Why?”

She’d spent months wording this as carefully as she could. “Because loving you on my terms would require you to change, and I don’t want that. I want you, Rick Norton. I want who you are, who God designed you to be, whatever that looks like.”

He tapped the top of the table with his index finger. She wondered if he even knew he was doing it. “What about your coping skills? What about all that intimate knowledge of what I do and how I do it and how dangerous it is?”