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B alancing on one leg, Honor snaked out the other foot and used it to shut the van door. Arms filled with bags, she turned toward her sister’s front door. A bouquet of fresh flowers on top of one bag teetered, threatening to fall to the pavement, but she jostled the bag to keep it from falling out.

The sidewalk was lined with pink and white tulips, which Honor had been admiring from her bedroom window each morning since her arrival. Somewhere down the street, a neighbor started up some lawn equipment, the engine a low whine.

Reaching the entrance, she juggled the packages to free one hand enough to open the door. She backed through the door and nudged it shut with her foot the same way she did her van door.

“Is that you, Honor?” her sister called out.

“Yes!”

The notes of fresh herbs struck her senses, and she groaned with hunger as she entered the kitchen.

Felicity looked up from the cutting board she stood over, eyes widening as she saw the number of packages Honor held.

She set them all down on the table. “Is that basil I smell?”

“Yup. I’m making pesto.”

“Yum! I’m starving.”

Felicity’s gaze traveled over the bags. “No wonder. Looks like you shopped till you were about to drop. What did you get?”

“I drove into the next town to buy beads.”

Her eyes popped. “All that is beads?”

“No, silly. Beads are really small.” She stuck out her tongue, and Felicity stuck hers out back. They shared a laugh.

“I see fresh flowers.”

“Yes! Aren’t they lovely? I picked them up for inspiration.” She plucked the bouquet from the bag and held them up for her sister to see. “Aren’t the colors just divine?”

The myriad of white, lavender and other shades of purple drew Felicity over like a bee.

“It’s the perfect color palette to inspire a new jewelry collection. I’m going to call it Lavender Horizon.”

“I love that idea, Honor. Knowing you, it’s going to be amazing.” She held up a wrist to display several bracelets Honor made for her. The earrings to match dangled from her lobes.

She returned to chopping herbs and adding them to a bowl. “Why did you drive all that way for beads when you can just buy them online?”

Honor stopped with one hand in the bag, a gasp on her lips. “I can’t just trust a photo on a website to show me what my bead stock looks like! No, no, no. I have to see them!”

Her sister threw her a small smile, but one look at the tension around her lips and Honor knew something was up. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“What look?”

“The worried one. The same one Mom gives us.”

For a moment, Felicity didn’t answer. She selected another sprig of herbs, the knife hovering over it on the cutting board.

“Felicity?” She drifted closer to her sister.

She chewed at her lower lip. “Next time, I’d appreciate it if you let me know where you’re going.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Sorry I didn’t think to before. I’m so used to only answering to myself.”

The unspoken name of her ex seemed to hang between them, and Felicity gave her a sharp look. “I was worried, Honor. I thought I saw…” She set the knife down. Then picked it up again.

“What’s going on? What did you see?”

Her sister’s blue eyes met her own.

Panic fluttered in Honor’s chest.

“I thought I saw Sully’s van.”

She blinked. She didn’t know what she was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t anything to do with her ex.

“A Mercedes van,” her sister clarified.

“Well…” Why was her palms suddenly damp? “A lot of people have that same model of van.”

She shook her head. “Not here. Not in Willowbrook. This is a town full of SUVs and four-wheel drive trucks.” She abandoned the pesto and faced Honor. “I always wondered how he could afford that vehicle. He liked nice things but didn’t like to work.”

Honor winced at the claim. Thinking it was one thing—hearing her family member say it was another.

Felicity went on, “He never held down a real job that I knew of.”

“He’s the creative type. Like me.”

“You’ve said that before. But at least you have something to show for your creativity. Honor, how did the breakup really go?”

“What do you mean? I told you, it was simple. I said I was leaving, he hardly had anything to say and no argument to keep me. So I left.”

“You never know a person until you break up with them.”

A throaty laugh escaped her. “What on earth did you think he’d do?”

Her sister lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “He was so secretive.”

She gave Felicity a pointed look. “He was private.”

“He could be dangerous, Honor.”

The word was so harsh. So shocking. Neither of them spoke for a long minute. On the stove nearby, a pot of water simmered for pasta. The refrigerator hummed, as did the air conditioner. She hadn’t realized how hot it would be here in the mountains.

“Did you ever find out what Sully did for work? Where he went? What he was doing all that time you were together?”

Unable to answer and needing time to think, Honor turned to her packages and pulled out a few packs of beads. The silver and gold swirls in them gleamed in the kitchen lights and from the sun slanting through the window.

She felt Felicity take a step closer. “He never wanted to get married. You dated for six years. He refused to commit.”

She didn’t look up from the beads. The gold and silver twisted around the bead like veins cut through marble. She planned to use the pricey beads sparingly, as accents to her pieces. Her mind already had an idea formed for a special pair of earrings that also involved her unique method of wire wrapping.

“We didn’t need a legal paper to prove that we loved each other, Felicity.”

“That’s Sully talking.”

She whipped her head up to pierce her sister in her stare. After a long heartbeat, she nodded. “He did say that. He said, ‘why do we need the piece of paper for happiness?’ He said he came home to me every night…and I saw his point.”

“Did you?”

She set the beads on the table and sliced her fingers through her hair. The idea of Sully coming all the way to Willowbrook made her stomach dip. Not because she missed him or wanted to see him.

Because she didn’t.

“I left the relationship long before I left it. For the final months, we didn’t even sleep in the same bed.”

“You’re kidding.”

She shook her head. “He came home late and didn’t want to wake me, but I see how it made us grow apart even more.”

“I wish you had shared that with me, Honor. It must have been painful.”

“He was always super-supportive of my business.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to defend her ex. Or maybe it was to defend her choices so her sister, who she loved and respected so much, didn’t judge her for them. “Sully always took interest in my work. I even came home one day and found him going through my bead collection, just looking at all the things I had accumulated. What guy does that? And he didn’t mind me being gone for long stretches when I spent summers attending all the festivals to sell my jewelry.”

Her sister didn’t appear to be convinced. “He wasn’t cheating on you?”

“No!”

“Well, something else must have been stealing his attention if he wasn’t cheating. You’re a gorgeous woman, Honor. Every guy who sees you can’t take his eyes off you, and women would settle for a portion of the allure you have in your pinky finger.” To show this, she held up her own.

The birthday ring Honor had made her containing her birthstone of a ruby circled it.

The sigh she pushed through her throat cleared some of the constriction there. “I’m not defending him, Felicity.”

Her sister assessed her for a long moment. “Whether or not I saw Sully’s van doesn’t matter if you’re not into getting back together with him.”

She shook her head. “I’m definitely not. I’m relieved it’s over.”

Felicity returned to making dinner, and Honor busied herself with arranging the flowers in a vase of water and placing the piece in the center of the table. Then she carried her goodies off to her room to store away for another time when she’d organize them with the rest of the stock in her van.

While she had every intention of looking to the future—to various festivals in the surrounding areas and even in Willowbrook later in the summer, a shadow lingered just around the edges of her thoughts.

Felicity’s words clung to her like the last chill of winter.

She straightened her spine. She still had no choice but to move forward…even if the path felt a little dimmer now.

* * * * *

The shovel’s blade scraped against the earth, pleasant and quiet in the evening. Gray exhaled, straightening to survey the gravel pile that had been an eyesore an hour ago but now left him with a sense of accomplishment.

Perspiration clung to his brow, and his muscles hummed from exertion. Manual labor beat hitting the gym and performing endless sets on the equipment all winter. That sort of activity left no mark on the land. This did. It proved that something had shifted, changed. Maybe that was why he needed it.

“You wiped out that whole pile of gravel!” He twisted to see his sister Willow approaching and set the shovel upright to lean on the handle.

He opened his mouth to respond but her ruffled hair and dirt-stained clothes stopped him. “You look like you’ve been dragged behind a horse.”

She gave him the head tilt that told him he was in for the sharp edge of her tongue. He waited, lips twitching to keep from smiling outright at his sister’s appearance. Covered in grit from boots to shoulders. Even her dark hair looked a bit dusty.

“I was breaking that new colt.”

“Looks like he broke you.” He peered closer at her, zeroing in on the Black Heart Ranch T-shirt beneath the grime of dirt. “Where did you get that shirt?”

Butterflies gathered in the top corner of the ranch’s logo in the middle of her T-shirt and flitted around the word RANCH.

She glanced down at herself. “What?”

“Tell me you didn’t… mess with …the Black Heart logo like that.”

She gave him a flat look. “Women work on this ranch too. Some of us want pretty things.”

“You bastardized our logo.”

“Feminized!” Her lips twisted in a smirk. “You want a shirt like mine?”

“Absolutely not.”

She swept a look over him. “The driveway looks great with the new gravel spread around.”

His only response was to wipe his forearm over the sweat on his brow. This time of day, things started to wind down around the ranch. Most of the chores were finished, and the vets who performed them went off to enjoy their evening or join in other activities. Gray was thankful he wasn’t required to hang out with the guys, or even his family, but he still hated this time of day for his own reasons.

To toss another dislike on the heap, it was Friday. Bonfire day. Most people loved Fridays, but not him. Though the match hadn’t even been struck yet, he could almost smell the ash in the back of his nose.

He started counting the seconds before Willow asked if he planned to join them at the fire tonight. He had to make his getaway now.

Swinging the shovel over his shoulder, he only took two steps toward the shed when two guys rounded the garage.

Dutch was one of the vets who’d been here long enough to know every operation on the ranch. And the newcomer, Crew, was with him.

Gray couldn’t see a way out of talking to them, so he stopped in his tracks and let them approach him. Willow suddenly appeared beside Gray, swiping at the dirt on her shirt. She flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder.

Gray peered closer at her. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

He narrowed his eyes, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Her gaze was fixed on the guys coming toward them.

Dutch was all soldier, each step measured and every action efficient. His back was straight and his gaze full of quiet alertness. Though he was relaxed, Gray knew how easy it would be for Dutch to shift into fight mode. The Stetson he wore pulled low over his eyes might conceal the battle wariness in his gaze, but Gray knew it was there, same as his own whenever he looked in the mirror.

Crew gave Gray a small nod, a restraint in his demeanor that made Gray question how long he’d been out of the military. He didn’t fidget but didn’t have all the confidence that some of the other vets who’d been here a while did. As if parts of him were still lost in the fight.

Tension spread through Gray’s chest, but he arranged his features into a pleasant look as he nodded back at Crew.

“How’s it going, guys?” Willow piped up.

Dutch’s mouth twisted in a smile he didn’t quite unleash on Gray’s sister. “Better than you by the looks of it.”

She cocked a hip and settled her hand on it. “None of you men seem to know the meaning of hard work and a little dirt.”

Dutch flashed a smile that vanished as quick as it appeared. “At least I won’t waste any time cleaning up before I head to the bonfire.”

“Good!” his sister shot back. “Then you can haul all the logs over to the pit.”

Crew eyed Gray. “Will you be going to the bonfire?”

His guts gripped. “Uh…no. I’ll be in my room working.”

Willow jumped in. “Gray is writing a novel.”

Dammit, Willow.

Crew eyed him with more interest. “I enjoy reading. What’s the novel about?”

“It’s a memoir.” As soon as he blurted the words, regret flooded in. His sister never forgot a thing.

Sure enough, her stare drilled into the side of his face. “Wait, I thought it was a thriller like the Jack Reacher series.”

“It’s a little of both.” If he could aim the shovel at his own head and knock himself unconscious to get out of this conversation, he would. He shifted the tool on his shoulder.

Everyone fell silent as if waiting for him to expand on that thought.

“As a military pilot…it is a little bit of a thriller.” He cleared his throat. “Y’all have a good time at the fire.”

Before anyone could stall him longer, he took off in long strides toward the shed. He quickly hung the shovel on the hook on the wall and made certain to close the door for the night. No one would ever dream of trespassing on the Black Heart. Just knowing that the family ran a security company was enough of a deterrent to any crime, not that there was much in the rural area.

Shooting a look toward the spot where his sister and the guys had been gathered, he saw they were gone. Luckily, he didn’t encounter anyone else as he headed into the house.

The inside smelled like fresh coffee. Since Carson kept early hours and late ones too, he had a fresh pot going at all hours of the day. Gray made a beeline to the kitchen. The shelf where the mugs were kept was filled with more of his sister’s monstrosities sporting butterflies and flowers.

He moved a few around, searching for the one he preferred but didn’t see it. With a grunt, he grabbed a light purple cup off the shelf and filled it with coffee. He’d need it for what he had planned for tonight.

With measured steps, he left the kitchen, glad he didn’t run into any of his brothers, and walked to his bedroom on the far end of the house. The house had originally been their summer home growing up. After their old man died, they sold out in Texas and dumped every penny into the Wyoming ranch, and it showed.

Everything that had once been broken, run-down or outdated had been replaced with new. His bedroom was a mix of old and new. The original hardwood floor still had a dark stain in one corner where he’d caught it on fire as a kid playing with matches. He stared at the spot as he quietly closed and locked the door.

The spot was a reminder of his past. Though he was different from the eight-year-old who dropped a match and set fire to a sock lying on his floor, the darkness remained.

Just like what happened to drive him out of the cockpit. That event was a black scorch mark on his soul.

He’d replaced his childhood bunkbeds with a king-sized one when he came home for good. The comfortable pillows pulled at his senses, urging him to bypass what he needed to do, but he fought the urge to lie down and shirk his duty.

Taking a seat at the new metal and glass desk, he opened his laptop. The screen illuminated, displaying the spreadsheet that had taken him all winter to compile.

5003 names.

Five thousand and three families waiting for words that would never be enough.

He scrolled down to tonight’s emails. Numbers 105, 106 and 107. It had taken him months to get here—three messages a night was all he could force out.

He had one thousand six hundred sixty-seven days of writing to go. At this rate, he’d be at this task for four and a half years.

Four and a half years of facing ghosts every day.

Personalized emails to the families of every person who died on that aircraft carrier when it was bombed. Some weren’t as easy to write as others. He tried to add an anecdote to each email, a personal story of an encounter he may have had with their deceased loved one. But with the ship carrying the population of a city, it was difficult to get personal. He didn’t know all those who perished.

Yet he did. He’d witnessed their last moments as the ship went up in flames and then sank to the bottom of the ocean.

Accidental ammunition detonation, the reports all said, which started a fire that went undetected until it was too late.

He yanked off his cowboy hat and tossed it onto the bed a few feet away. Staring at the screen, he tried to focus on the names on the spreadsheet rows. But he didn’t see the letters that formed those names…only black smoke and flames shooting into the air.

Writing a novel would have been easier.

He had to do this. The dead deserved it. Taking time to write emails every night was the least he could do since he couldn’t save them.

He’d failed to do anything to stop the destruction that killed the entire crew working on that ship. He should have gone down with them at the bottom of the sea.

The bleak path of his thoughts couldn’t rewrite an ending that fit.

Forcing himself to focus, he set his fingers to the keys and fixed his gaze on the photo on the spreadsheet that coordinated with the name of the young man who died. Brady Collins. Smiling, with a group of his buddies who worked in his unit gathered around him.

Gray never knew him personally.

But their lives intersected. A meal shared. Gray gave him shit for putting too much hot sauce on his eggs.

And now Collins was at the bottom of the ocean.

His hands trembled, but he forced them to steady. This is the least I can do.

With a deep breath, he began to type.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Collins…