“Understand. That sucks for her, though.”

My mom had had me when she was a teenager as well, but had given me up for adoption as soon as I’d been born. I’d never resented her, because I grew up in a great family . . . and obviously she couldn’t have given me that. That didn’t stop me from wondering why she hadn’t tried. So I was already impressed by Reagan’s drive, and I’d never even met her.

“That it does.” Hudson’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “So, are you moving back home?”

“Ahh, nah. I don’t think so. I miss them and all, but I’d miss my studio. I have a lot of clients here who I can keep using, and I’d miss the location. Colorado is a lot nicer to look at and shoot in than where I grew up.”

Hudson laughed. “I bet. Well, where are you gonna stay? I know you weren’t expecting to get out today.”

“I’ll just crash in my studio until I find a place, no big deal.”

“You sure? I can call one of my buddies.”

“Appreciate it, man, but for what? So I can not sleep on their couch? I have couches in the studio if I need to pass out.”

He looked at me for a few moments before saying, “You should really talk to someone. They could help.”

I knew he was looking out for me, but I hated when ­people said shit like that. I didn’t need help. “I have nothing to say to anyone, there’s no point.”

Sensing my unease with the conversation, Hudson held up his hands like he was surrendering and changed the subject. “Well, your studio is close to where my family is and where I’ll be looking for a place when I get out. So let’s grab some beers when you’re not busy, all right? Actually, I’m heading home this weekend. Want to go out and celebrate your civilian status tonight?”

“Civilian,” I huffed, and shook my head. “Fuck, this is gonna be weird. I don’t know if I remember how to be a civilian.”

“It’ll be easier than you think, I’m sure.”

I somehow doubted that. Grabbing the last of my bags, I looked over at him and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go out tonight. Call me when you head into the city, I’m gonna take everything to the studio and look at the places around there for a few hours.”

“Will do, see you later.”

With one last look at the room, I turned and headed out of the barracks to start my new civilian life. Jesus Christ, that was going to take some getting used to.

Reagan—­August 13, 2010

I FINISHED PAYING for my coffee and shoved everything back in my wallet as I answered my phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ray.”

Huffing as I jammed my wallet into my purse and tried to get out of the way for the next person waiting to order, I put my phone between my shoulder and my cheek, and sighed. “Hey, big brother.”

“You okay?” he asked on a laugh.

“Fine. Today was just the longest day ever, and I barely slept last night, so I feel like I’m about to lose my shit. I’m getting coffee before I go get Parker from Mom.”

His next laugh was louder, fuller. “Sounds like you need a beer, not coffee.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I mused.

“I’m coming home tonight and hitting up a bar with my roommate. He’s officially retired as of today, so we’re celebrating. Come out with us.”

“Thanks, but no. I just want to get Parker and go home.”

Keegan sighed, and I mentally prepared myself for what was coming next. Swear to God, my entire family was like one giant broken record. “You need to go out and just relax. One night away from your son isn’t going to kill you. I know Mom and Dad will watch him.”

“Of course they will, and they’d probably shove me out the door to hang out with you. But I don’t want a night away from him.”

“Reagan, it’s just a few hours. Come hang out with us, have a good time, meet some ­people . . .”

I gasped as I realized what he was hinting at. “Keegan Hudson, are you trying to set me up with your friends?”

There was a long pause before he admitted, “Yeah, Ray, I am. He’s a good guy, I know you’d like him . . . and he’s moving close to you. It would be good for him to know someone there.”

“Christ, not you too. I don’t want to meet anyone, why is that so hard for all of you to understand?”

“Because—­”

“This is so backwards! Shouldn’t you be keeping me from guys? Especially your soldier buddies?” I mouthed a thank-­you to the barista, and grabbed my iced latte as I turned to leave.

“You know . . . it’s not a crime to date.”

“I know that, Kee—­shit!” I gasped, and jumped back from the iced coffee, even though it was already covering most of my shirt.

“What?” he yelled into the phone. “What happened?”

“Oh my God,” the guy in front of me said. His face somewhat apologetic, somewhat amused. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Reagan! What happened?”

I pulled the shirt away from my body, and stood there in shock for a few seconds before my brain started functioning again. “Nothing, I just literally ran into a guy at Starbucks and am now covered in coffee.”

“That shit actually happens?” Keegan laughed. “Only you, Ray, only you.”

“I’m so sorry,” the guy said again. “Please, let me buy you a drink . . . and a new shirt. Shit, here let me get napkins.”