Morgan shifted, and I forgot the card in my hand. My girl didn’t have an ounce of that devastation on her face now. Oh no, it was all anger and indignation.

The storm she’d fought so long and hard to keep off her coastline was here.

“Little Bird,” Jagger said softly, touching his wife’s elbow as he took in the same signs I did.

“Morgan?” Paisley stepped forward, oblivious to the danger.

“I might want to come?” Morgan’s voice was so quiet the breeze off the ocean nearly carried it away.

“Well…don’t you?” Paisley took another step with obvious, honest concern.

Ember and Sam positioned themselves so the group made a square, both watching the other women with all of the caution Paisley should have shown.

“Honey,” Jagger tried again, reaching for his wife’s elbow. She shook him off.

He looked my way beseechingly, but I took one look at Morgan’s rigid muscles, the fire in her eyes, and remembered that this was the stage in her therapy where she was supposed to confront the people who triggered her, and Paisley was the biggest trigger she had.

I slowly shook my head at Jagger and stepped to the side, effectively getting the hell out of Morgan’s way.

“I might want to come?” Morgan shouted. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Morgan

I’m showing up empty-handed to this party, and the most amazing thing about you is that you don’t care. You just want me, and I can’t figure out why, but I’m done fighting it. You want this mess? It’s yours. Just enjoy your last nine months of freedom—I mean, hopefully not too much or anything—because once I get home, we’re doing this thing.

Paisley drew back like I’d slapped her. Her shock and hurt were obvious, and I just didn’t care. I was beyond caring.

“You don’t want to come?” Her brow puckered.

“You sent the invitations last week? You, Paisley, were given the invitations, and then you chose not to mail one to me? Not to let me know that Will—my Will—was getting the Medal of Honor?” My voice didn’t even sound like mine anymore.

She blinked. “I told you, I wanted to give it to you in person. You said you were struggling—”

“I hadn’t even invited you here when you mailed them out! What were you going to do? Wait until the week before the ceremony, just hoping that I’d be up for talking then?”

“I’d…I hoped that you’d call. And you did. Well, you texted, which isn’t really the same, but—”

“Who the hell gave you the right to keep information about Will from me?”