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Then, she hung up and slipped the phone back into her purse.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Blake stood in his dress blues, staring at the fountain wall with thousands of copper plaques covering it, all with different names and birthdays. The ceremony had been brief, with hundreds of people watching as they turned the water on. Afterward, Blake had gotten up and walked along the pool until he’d found what he was looking for.

Jenny’s name sat right at eye level, the water running over it lovingly.

“We are glad you could come, Sergeant.”

Blake turned toward Colonel Major’s voice. The man was an imposing, barrel-chested figure. He had dark hair sprinkled with salt and pepper, and his mustache was thick enough to make Tom Selleck jealous.

He shook the colonel’s hand. “So was I, sir. It was a beautiful tribute.”

The colonel nodded. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t do it sooner.”

“To be honest, Colonel, I don’t know if I’d have been able to come back any sooner.”

The colonel patted his shoulder as if he understood. “It was a horrible tragedy. I lost my wife to breast cancer four years ago, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her.”

Blake appreciated the colonel’s attempt at empathy as he said good-bye. It was true that he missed Jenny, but where before the pain of her loss had been sharp and constant, it had slowly faded.

He’d done what he’d come to do, what Hannah had asked him to do, but it still felt unfinished.

He had one more stop to make.

Blake left the base and drove, stopping at a local market for a bouquet of pink carnations before heading to the cemetery where Jenny was buried. He parked and got out of his car, making his way through the headstones as if he’d just been here yesterday. Finally, he stopped and stared down at her grave.

Dropping to his knees, he laid the carnations across the green bed of grass, fingering the words on the headstone.

Wife. Daughter. Friend. She will always be missed.

The words were true. The world had lost a wonderful human being, and yet, it had kept turning. He’d survived and continued on with his life.

Even found love again.

The death of his parents had introduced him to a new kind of pain, one that suffocated and consumed. It was worse when Jenny had died, because he hadn’t expected to experience it again, at least not so soon. He had thought he was safe.

Until Hannah had left him.

Only now, the pain was nearly debilitating.

So, if working through his feelings about Jenny’s death was the only way to get Hannah back, he was going to try.

“Hey. I brought your favorites, carnations. I know you always said they were underappreciated.” Sighing and trying not to feel foolish, he kept going. “I don’t know if you’re there, but I know that you’re here.” He held his hand over his chest. “You’ll always be with me. My girlfriend, Hannah—I don’t know if you’ve seen her, but she thinks I haven’t let you go. I swear I didn’t think that was the case, not until I got here. I drove by that hole-in-the-wall shake and burger place we used to love, and it just hit me. Why it’s been so hard to move on. I didn’t say good-bye. You left the house and called out that you loved me, but I didn’t say it back because I was too busy watching football. Because I figured I’d see you in an hour. Because I thought you already knew. But when you were killed . . . ” Blake wiped at his wet eyes. “When you died, I felt like things were left unfinished. That our story wasn’t over.”

The only response was a wind whispering through the trees above him, rustling the leaves.

“I almost didn’t make it that first year. I don’t know if you were watching me, but I alienated just about everyone we knew and was almost arrested. If it wasn’t for Captain Marshal, I’d probably be dishonorably discharged and drinking my money away.

“But he got me a transfer, and I moved to California. I got some help. I know I always said that therapy was a joke, but it actually helped a lot. It was group therapy, but that’s where I met my friends. You’d like them, especially Best. He’s got your perverted sense of humor.”

A car with squeaky breaks drove past, breaking through his monologue, and he almost stopped, but it was as if h

e could hear Jenny telling him to go on.

“I love my job, although I’m not sure my squad will ever talk to me again after the way I treated them the other day. You see, a little over a year ago, I started going into this diner every day after my run, and there was this girl there. She was pretty, a little shy, but she can make me feel so good, Jen. Even before I realized I liked her, she was the brightest spot in my day.

“But it felt like I was betraying you, being with her, so I resisted for a while, until I just couldn’t help it. I think you’d like her. And she loves me. God, how she loves me.”