Ranger drew in a breath. Past them, at the beach, the sun baked the sand, the water rolled in frothy rhythm, and a windsurfer rode the waves, farther out, letting the gusts take him airborne. It looked freeing. Easy.

Like he’d been born to do it.

“I’m going blind, Ham.”

Ham still wore his sunglasses, so Ranger couldn’t read his eyes, but his mouth tightened to a grim line, a nod.

Here it came. The apology, the pity, the backpedaling—

“I know.”

Ranger had nothing.

“Pete told me when I floated the idea, although he was two thumbs-up.”

“Noemi will kill him.”

“Probably. But Pete sees what I see. Maybe you’re not in the field, but you see things, Ranger. You strategize in your head, you see the scenarios . . .”

“I don’t need your pity, Ham.”

He paused. “If you think that is what this is, then you haven’t been paying attention. I’m not in the business of handouts. You work for me, you work for me.”

“I’m no good to you if I can’t roll out with you.”

Ham stared at him. Then took off his glasses. “Who told you that?”

“I’m just being practical.”

“You’re seeing the world through your feelings. Not through truth. Not through God’s eyes. If he’s called you to something, Range, he’ll equip you, even if you don’t know how.”

“I need to see to shoot.”

“Who says you have to shoot?”

“I’m a sniper.”

“Exactly what makes you good at strategy, what-ifs, and contingency plans.” Ham put his glasses back on. “God’s promises don’t depend on your feelings. They depend on his Word. Stop relying on yourself and let God use you how he wants.”

Ranger stared at him, the taste of his offer gathering inside. Yes. He could be a point man. Out on the field, they had to utilize all their senses . . . for years he’d anticipated, imagined, plotted . . .

Wait. “I can’t do that to Noemi, Ham. She’s been through so much. Her dad’s death and sort of resurrection. The kidnapping in Nigeria and Alaska . . . the siege on the house. I just . . . I just can’t do that to her.”

Ham took another bite of his burrito. Set it down. Again wiped his mouth. “Noemi is a SEAL’s kid. Has it occurred to you that maybe God has especially designed her to be in this with you?”

Ranger pushed away his basket of chips. “She’s the bravest woman I know, smart, capable, and, yes, she’s all in for the adventure, but . . .” He shook his head. “No.”

“Range—”

“I’m trying to be real here. Yeah, I’d love to join Jones, Inc. But then what? I love her, and Noemi deserves more than me part time. She deserves better.”

“And you think you’ll be your better self hanging around Sky King Ranch, making soup?”