“I’m mostly all right, but…not always. Had a few missions where everything went south—and yeah, they come back and haunt me.” Bull turned to face him. “A couple of months ago, Dante took me to a counselor buddy in Anchorage. The guy’s a vet—and uses some weird machine that helps to integrate the memories.”

“It works?” That’d be the day.

Bull nodded. “For me, at least. It’s not easy. Couple of times, I almost puked. But the flashbacks and nightmares and feeling of falling into a black hole? It’s getting better.”

“Huh.” Hawk stared at the sunlight rippling on the water.

Bull cleared his throat. “As it happens, Doc Grayson was asking about you. Said you made him a promise last year that you’d see a therapist. Said if you didn’t, he’d come up and you two would…chat.”

“Fuck.” The psychologist never made threats he didn’t keep.

Even worse, Hawk had promised. Guess he’d better man up.

Pulling himself together, Hawk realized his brother had moved silently away, heading for the chicken coop.

A few minutes later, on the way back, Bull slowed. “Let me know when you have an appointment. I’ll take you there the first time or two.” He didn’t wait for an answer.

The bull knew him well.

Her laptop in front of her, Frankie listened with half an ear to the activity in the coffee shop. And sniffed appreciatively at the chocolatey aroma of a mocha coffee.

Scowling at her emails, she thought she could use some chocolate. Two of her friends in New York had married military guys; a couple of the Bocelli models had lovers in the security business. Another friend worked in defense. After the book club meeting, she’d asked them all about finding a reputable mercenary team. Their replies were discouraging, filled with warnings about the various mercenary outfits for various reasons—bad reps, incompetent, rip-offs, criminals. Some guy named deVries had quit the business. She still had a couple of her friends who hadn’t weighed in…and really, she was only checking into mercenaries as a worst-case scenario.

Maybe the next chore on her to-do list would go better. That was doubtful, though. She picked up her cell phone, selected a contact, and tried to bolster her courage. Speaking with her family seemed to get more difficult the longer she was in Alaska. Maybe because—aside from her trips to see Nonna—this was the longest she’d ever spent away from them. She missed them, but watching Bull with his family made her see that hers wasn’t very loving. Or supportive of anything unrelated to their own interests.

Sure, she knew that…in a way. Most of her friends had wonderful parents. But she’d never stepped back and really considered hers.

She tapped the CALL square.

“Francesca, it’s about time you returned my call.”

“Mama, hi. I saw you’d called a couple of times. I’m sorry, but the cell reception at the cabin is crummy. I waited to call you from town.”