“Sure,” he said. “Vietnam.”
Her voice was gentle, patient. “Logan, do you know if he went through what you’ve been going through? Did he come home with PTSI?”
The suggestion was like a slap in the face. How had he never seen it before? How could he have been so self-centered. So blind?
As a kid, yeah, he got it. Kids don’t realize those things are going on. And as a teenager, he’d disconnected himself from his dad as much as possible. He’d had to. But how could he not have seen it, now?
“Hell,” he whispered, as he flashed to all the times his dad had buried himself in a bottle. All the things his dad struggled with. All the times his dad had seemed to jump at sounds or get angry out in public.
Only, now, the memories didn’t just show his dad being angry. When he really looked back, Logan could see it was more. That beneath the anger was panic. Fear.
Sam squeezed his hand. “They didn’t have nearly the resources we have now. Shoot, even now, the resources to support returning vets aren’t enough.”
He finished for her. “Back then, they were practically nonexistent.”
She was quiet, waiting for him to process. It had been so long since he’d even thought about his dad, but the fact that he’d never put this information together himself embarrassed him. He should have done better by his dad.
“We can go see him, if you’d like,” she said. “I’ll go with you.”
Logan looked at the woman he loved, at the open trust, complete lack of judgment, at the uncensored love in her eyes.
“I’m the luckiest man on the planet, baby,” he said and tugged her across to his chair, settling her in his lap.
“Right back atchya, baby,” she said as she looped her arms around his neck and settled her mouth on his. “Right back atchya.”
Chapter 30
Four days and three nights at an all-inclusive resort passed all too quickly. While in Mexico, they called Samantha’s parents and all of her siblings to tell them about their engagement. They also talked more about wedding plans and set some very tentative ideas in place.
For the most part, Logan wanted whatever would make Sam happy and Sam wanted whatever would make her mother and sisters happy. So it looked like Sam’s family was really in charge of the whole thing.
They’d spent one day of their vacation playing Tangled Legacy online, each of them making new profiles so they started from the beginning and battled each other in quests. When Sam had sufficiently kicked Logan’s ass, she showed him the two higher levels that would be added at the next update to the game and told him about a third she was working on.
The flight back went more smoothly than the flight out, primarily because Logan was better prepared for it mentally. He said it was easier when he knew what to expect and implemented several of the calming methods Ernie taught him, as they made their way through security and onto the plane.
And, of course, Billy had been there, his head in Logan’s lap whenever he needed it.
Sam and Logan drove to work together on Tuesday morning, slightly earlier than Sam would normally go in, but a bit later than Logan’s typical commute. He was getting better every day. Handling traffic and day-to-day interactions with crowds more easily. It wasn’t perfect, but things were improving.
Sam stepped out of the office building at one thirty, Billy’s leash in hand and her purse over her shoulder. In addition to running out to grab lunch for herself and Logan, she planned to take Billy for a little potty break on the green a couple blocks from the office.
Turning left, she looked up at the sun and smiled. It wasn’t the tropical sunshine and blue, cloudless skies they’d had in Mexico but it was pretty nice out. And life was fantastic. She smiled down at Billy, but was surprised to hear a low growl come from the dog.
Then she noticed the woman walking much too close to her on the other side. No wonder Billy was growling.
The woman grabbed Sam’s arm in a tight hold and smiled a bright, but creepy smile. “Tell the dog not to blow this, Samantha,” the woman said through her toothy smile. “We’re going to walk and talk a bit and believe me, you don’t want the dog drawing attention to you.”
“It’s all right, Billy,” Sam said, but she didn’t sound convincing to herself. Billy seemed uneasy so she tried again, lightening her tone. “Don’t worry, Billy, this is just a friend. We’re going to talk.”
She hoped that was true, but she had a feeling the woman who had a death grip on her arm was also holding a weapon on her. Sure enough, within seconds, the woman pressed something hard and sharp into Sam’s side.
Sam wished she was wearing the bulletproof coat Kelly had gotten her. If it stopped bullets, surely it would stop a knife? But it was a raincoat and since she didn’t have to wear it out of necessity each day, she’d decided to leave it at home.
“Good girl,” said the woman and Sam tried to place the accent.
It wasn’t one accent. There were several. British, but something else underneath. Maybe something Slavonic? Serbo-Croatian? Russian? Czech?
“Now, cross to that bench over there and we’ll sit and chat.”