“You were pretty young when he was injured, and he shrunk over the years.” Grant stopped next to him. “I have something for you.” He opened the closet and took a box from the top shelf. Opening it, he handed a black bundle of neoprene to Mac.

“The Colonel’s KA-BAR.” Grief constricted Mac’s throat. He slid the knife from the sheath. The Colonel had carried it when he’d been a Ranger.

“You gave it to me after Lee died. I noticed you had a knife at your place. I thought you should have this one back. I don’t have a need for it, and you still do.”

“Thanks.” He rolled up his pant leg and strapped the sheath to his calf.

The door opened, and Hannah came in. Her eyes widened with shock as she stared at Mac’s face. “You shaved. All. The. Way. To. Skin.” She patted his cheek. “I had no idea my baby brother was so handsome.” She wrapped an arm around him and focused on the hanging uniform. “How can it be that intimidating? He’s not even in it.”

“Because it’s part of him.” Grant said. “It represents what he wanted to be. Where he wanted to be. And what he was in his heart.”

“The last two and a half decades must have been a nightmare for him.” Hannah’s grip tightened around Mac’s bicep.

“Trapped in a body that could no longer serve or obey his commands.” Mac’s voice turned rough. “All he ever wanted was to be a general.”

Grant put a hand on Mac’s free shoulder, the grip heavy and firm. “He had choices. He had four kids who wanted nothing more than to please him, and it wasn’t enough. We weren’t enough for him.”

“We tried.” Hannah sniffed and wiped a hand under her eyes. “God knows we tried.”

Grant would never treat Carson and Faith the way the Colonel had treated his children. Grant would go to his grave cherishing those kids, and they weren’t even his.

“Some people aren’t cut out for family life,” Mac said. “The Colonel was one of them. He didn’t do it to be mean. I think he honestly thought he was doing us a favor by toughening us up.”

“He suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and depression,” Grant said. “But he was old school. Military men of his era didn’t address mental health issues. They soldiered on.”

Their father’s depression had been so deep and dark that it had sucked up all the light in their home.

“I’m glad he’s finally at peace,” Hannah lowered her arm and crossed to the desk to pluck a tissue from its box. She wiped her eyes, crumpled the tissue, and tossed it into the trashcan. “What do we need to do? I assume he clearly spelled out his burial wishes.”