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“My entire life, my uncle has been the one I talked to about anything like that. When he feels I need more in-depth help, or he feels he’s too close to the situation to see clearly, he refers me to a good friend of his.”
“Have you ever had to do that?”
“Just once.” She sighed and kept her eyes on the window. I followed her gaze, and we took a moment to watch the first snow of the season spread a light blanket over the gently rolling landscape of Montana. She seemed lost in it, and I stayed silent and waited for her to elaborate. “When my father left,” she continued in a soft voice, “my uncle was, in a word, livid. I felt he wouldn’t be the best person to talk to about it.”
“Smart move,” I chuckled lightly.
“He’s a good man. He’s always been there for me, but he’s as professional as they come. He’d never allow himself to put his own anger ahead of my well-being.”
I like this guy more than ever.
“There’s a good reason the Logans keep Uncle Reid on. He’s the best of the best, and I only hope someday I’ll be as good as him.”
“You are.”
“Says the boyfriend.” She glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, says the boyfriend, and it also comes from the guy who sees you keeping a brother sane through one of the worst situations a guy could ever go through. He’ll make it through this, and it’ll be because of you.”
“Keith wants help. It’s easier when they’re open to it.”
“Still,” I shrugged, “I think it’s pretty amazing.”
“Thanks.” She smiled then turned back to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Ivy usually showed pride and accepted compliments when it came to her job, so the fact she seemed less receptive told me she was worn out. I hated to see her like this, but I understood it. I reached over and ran my hand over her leg to let her know I knew where her head was.
“I love the snow,” she breathed and let out a small sigh. “I guess you love the heat and sand?”
“It’s what I’m used to,” I shrugged, “but I like both.”
“Was there ever a time…” She stopped mid-thought, but I shook her leg to keep her going.
“Was there ever a time, what?”
“Was there ever a time where you thought you wouldn’t make it out of a situation alive?”
“Many.” I hit the wipers to clear the snowflakes.
“You say it so casually.”
“Because it became the norm for me.”
“How did you deal with that day in and day out?” I felt her eyes on me as she tried to understand.
“At first, it was a struggle, but I soon turned it into a challenge. If I lived to see the sun fall and the moon rise, I got a point. I just kept a tally. I’d scratch a line into the back of a notebook I carried on me. At the end of each mission, I’d start a new page. The sight of all those scratches kept me positive.”
“Did you do the same thing when you got back to the US?”
I met her gaze, confused by her question. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you act like it’s a war for you here, like you’re just trying to survive until you get back to Afghanistan.”
I felt my brows pinch together as I thought about her words and just how spot-on she was. I’d never looked at it that way.
“I never thought about it like that,” I admitted. She went back to the snow outside the window.
I left her with her thoughts while I sorted through my own.
A few minutes later, we rolled up to the safehouse and I saw her shoulders relax.
