"He was a real good man, Lora," he said, his voice ringing with sincerity and truth. "And he was someone I was damn glad to have watching my back during our missions." Especially the one that nearly cost Joel his life.

"Tell me about it," she beckoned once again. She leaned against the counter behind her and crossed her arms over her chest. "Please?"

He exhaled a deep breath. Joel hated taking that particular trip down memory lane, but for Lora, he knew he'd do it.

With effort, he mentally put himself back into the situation and tried to make the story as succinct as possible.

"Our unit was on its way to conduct a search operation of a known terrorist ring in east Baghdad, when a young boy came running up to our Humvee, which is never a good sign. Three of us jumped off the vehicle, including Zach, to assess the situation and make sure the boy wasn't part of some suicide attack, and that's when one of the Humvees in our convoy was hit by a roadside bomb, followed by an immediate insurgent attack."

He combed his fingers through his now-short hair, which felt odd after months of dealing with the unruly, longer strands. "I was hit by a piece of shrapnel in my right thigh, and just as the guys in our unit started taking cover where they could, another blast went off nearby, which knocked me on my ass."

He watched as Lora pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide with horror as she listened to his grim tale. "I ended up in the middle of the road, without any protection, and gunfire going off all around me from both sides," he went on as his hand absently rubbed at the scar on his thigh. "I tried to get up, but my right leg kept giving out on me, and just when I thought I was as good as dead, your brother ran back out into the open fire while the other guys covered him the best they could. He grabbed me beneath my arms and literally dragged me back behind one of the Humvees, where it was relatively safe."

"God, Joel," she said, her voice hoarse. "I had no idea."

Most American civilians never knew just how bad things could get in Iraq, that every day for someone in the military could be their last. Joel never took for granted just how lucky he'd been to get out of that attack alive.

"It could have been much worse," he said, eternally grateful that his injury hadn't been life threatening. "I could have died like a few other of our men did that day, and I have Zach to thank for saving me."

There was no doubt in Joel's mind that if it hadn't been for Zach's bravery and spontaneous rescue, he would have ended up dead, too. But it was that tight band-of-brothers mentality that always had men risking their own lives to save others. Like one of their guys who'd thrown himself on top of a grenade during another mission in order to save the entire group. That had been just one of the many devastating acts of courage that Joel and Zach and his other comrades had witnessed.

"That's the kind of shit we dealt with, Lora, every single day," he continued. "And it takes men who are loyal and you trust implicitly to watch your back and do the unthinkable if necessary. And that's exactly the kind of marine and man that Zach was."

"Then what happened to him, Joel?" Lora's gaze was troubled and her voice trembled when she spoke. "What made that loyal, trustworthy man turn on his own sister?"

Her emotional turmoil was nearly tangible, and it twisted in Joel's gut like a knife. In no way did Joel absolve Zach of the mistakes he'd made over the past few years with his life and his sister's, but he tried to make Lora understand things from a military perspective.

"The war, and seeing the worst in humanity, and witnessing some of your good friends dying right in front of your eyes without any way of saving them, is enough to send anyone off the deep end." Leaning forward in his chair, he clasped his hands between his spread knees, his gaze holding hers as he recounted some of those situations. "There's a lot of pain involved in war, and not all of it is physical. There's guilt and remorse and regrets for things you should have done, or things you could have done differently. There's the anguish of watching innocent people die, and the guilt of not being able to save an eighteen-year-old fresh out of boot camp who ends up getting killed in the line of fire."

Joel did his best not to dwell on the ugly, tragic aspects of the war, but he knew that some people had a tougher time blending back into civilian life than others. Like Zach. Then there were the too-high statistics of depression and suicide that had afflicted some veterans of Iraq once they returned home from the war.

"Everyone deals with that emotional upheaval in different ways," he said, and he highly suspected that Zach had some form of combat post-traumatic stress disorder, which would explain a lot of his choices and actions since being discharged. "For Zach, maybe it's the gambling and drinking that keeps him from remembering and dealing with what he'd endured. But those addictions are just a temporary Band-Aid for the real underlying issues and problems he needs to work through."

She nodded in understanding, then tipped her head, regarding him in a speculative way that made him uncomfortable. "What about you, Joel? How did you deal with what you saw on a daily basis?"

He shrugged more casually than he felt inside. "Honestly, I try not to think about it, or the split-second choices I had to make." Because if he did, he knew he'd go insane and allow the mental distress of some of those wrong choices to lead him down a destructive path, much in the way that Zach had gone. "I keep myself busy with work and don't dwell on the past." And he kept himself emotionally detached, too. That part came easily. Since his mother's death, other than Mia, he'd managed to distance himself from everyone else in his life.

Not wanting to dredge up any more of the past or his time in the war, he stood up and brushed off the bigger chunks of hair still on his shirt and jeans. "If you'll get me the broom and dustpan from that closet over there, I'll get this mess cleaned up."

Knowing by his change of subject that they were done talking about Zach and the war, she pushed away from the counter and went to retrieve the items he'd requested. "Why don't you go take a shower, and I'll do this."

Considering that the smaller hairs that had found their way down his shirt in the back were starting to make him itchy, he wasn't about to argue. "Thanks."

She stopped him before he could exit the kitchen. "Joel?"

He turned back around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for telling me," she said softly, gratefully. "I really hope that it's not too late to get Zach the help he needs after this is over. I don't want him living like this anymore."

He felt the same way. "You and me both."

As Joel headed to the bathroom, he knew that someone had to save Zach from himself before the other man got himself killed. And that person would most likely be Joel.

Chapter Sixteen

A new storm raged outside the cabin, loud and windy and with enough furor to rattle the windows in the front rooms. The fire in the hearth had died down enough for Joel to feel confident that it was okay to retire for the night, as Lora had a few hours ago, yet he was still out in the living room, his mind, and his thoughts, working overtime.

He'd spent too much time mulling over what Lora had said about getting Zach the help he needed to overcome his problems, and Joel couldn't agree more with her. He, along with Ben, Kevin, and Jon, were ready and willing to give Zach the financial and emotional support he needed to dig himself out of his predicament, but accepting that help would require a huge dedication from Zach, personally and professionally.

But if Zach couldn't do something as simple as show up for a planned meeting, Joel had to wonder if he had it in him to make the commitment it would take to change his life for the better.

Knowing he needed to get some sleep so they could head back to the city in the morning, Joel got up from the couch and started toward the second empty bedroom down the hall. But instead of passing by the room that Lora was sleeping in, which would have been the smart thing to do, he came to a stop in the doorway and stared at her sleeping form on the bed.

She was curled up on her side, bundled beneath the covers. A flash of lightning from outside illuminated Lora's serene features, followed by a loud crash of thunder that shook the cabin and ultimately startled her awake. She came up on one elbow, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, and looked his way.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft and slightly raspy. "What are you still doing up?"

"I'm on my way to bed right now. I was just checking in on you." He forced himself to back away from the doorway before he gave into the temptation to crawl into bed beside her. "Good night."

"Wait," she called out before he could make his escape. Then she tossed back the covers, scooted over to make room for him, and patted the open spot next to her. "Why don't you sleep here with me? There's no sense in messing up two beds," she teased.

He chuckled, but there wasn't a hint of seduction in her voice. She wasn't looking for sex, and honestly, neither was he. He just wanted to be close to her, to take what he could while it lasted, no matter how selfish that might be.

More thunder clapped over the cabin, accompanied by a torrent of rain pounding on the roof, and Lora winced at the sound. "The storm is making me jumpy, and it sure would be nice not to sleep alone."

She didn't have to convince him any more than that, so accepting her invitation was incredibly easy to do. He moved into the room, and after stripping down to his boxer briefs, he slid into bed beside her. She turned to face the opposite way, and he cuddled up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and aligned the front of his body to her backside.