Page 32 of Bossy Hero

But I’m here, wearing my full dress uniform and mingling with the families of the men who died or were injured. Listening to them try to thank me through their tears. Ironically, I want to apologize to them through mine.

I won’t do that, though.

It’s a slippery slope that will only lead me to confessing what Ireallythink went down over there.

So I’ll stay quiet, letting them keep the illusion that this all serves some greater purpose. Let them believe we didn’t have shitty fucking intel. Let them believe that this wasn’t preventable. That the blood of their sons isn’t on the hands of our own leadership.

And in doing so, I’ll allow myself to believe I didn’t fail again.

“Please, Mrs. Bossell, don’t—” My voice is scratchy, so I clear my throat and start again. “Please don’t thank me for doing what any one of us would have done. I only wish I could have brought Twitch home to your family, safe and sound. I’m sorry I couldn’t do that.”

She squeezes both my hands and looks squarely into my eyes. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have a grave to visit. We would always wonder if he was captured or died. Was he lost and looking for help? Was he suffering? Was his death painful or quick? A million other worries would plague us, following us everywhere we go. That’s not something you get over.” Shaking her head somberly, she pulses her paper-thin hands around mine. “But we don’t have to ask those questions. Because of you and your men, we have closure. You brought my grandson home to us. And so, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you, sir.”

I can’t even get pissed off that she called mesir. This poor, sweet soul. A waif of a woman, easily in her eighties. In her fancy church hat with thick spectacles hanging around her neck by a chain. Her only reason for being here is to thank the men who carried her grandson from the fire.

Instead of replying, I simply nod and offer a compassionate half smile. What else can I do?

Once she’s said her piece, she shuffles off to find someone else to thank. Seems to be making her way toward Sawyer.

A server carrying a tray of drinks quickly takes the space she’s vacated. “White wine? Beer? Soda?”

“Beer, please.”

After serving me, he saunters off with the drinks sloshing on his tray. As I put the cold glass bottle to my lips, I stroll toward the edge of the room where I won’t be among the masses. Less likely to get sucked into another awkward conversation if I’m along the fringe.

Once I’m comfortably leaning against the wall, I scan the crowd. My head nods along to the soft music they piped in.

It’s a party, after all, right?

Somuch to celebrate.

Disgusting farce.

Like always, Lionheart sticks out like a sore thumb, towering over the crowd. Although his back is to me, he seems to be engaged in conversation if the dramatic arm movements and head nods are anything to go by. His dress shoes make him look even taller somehow.

He shifts his enormous frame to the side when a server approaches him with drinks, revealing his companion.

And my stomach drops.

Maddie’s here.

Holy shit.

I blink twice, contemplating scrubbing my eyes to make sure she’s not a mirage. Wouldn’t be the first soldier to see someone who wasn’t there after getting back from a rough tour. So I blink again.

And once more, for good measure.

I swipe my gaze around the room, hoping there’s someone I can consult with to ensure I’m not hallucinating. I catch a glimpse of Sawyer chatting up a blond in the corner. She seems a bit young for him. However, she looks legal, so I’ll let him shoot his shot.

My eyes fall back to the vision in a dark purple dress across the room.

Lionheart didn’t mention that Maddie was coming. Naturally, I hoped she would, but I didn’t want to assume or even ask him about it. I haven’t brought her up very often.

To my knowledge, he doesn’t know we kept in touch over the years. I didn’t hide it from him out of malice. There wasn’t much to share, and I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of her when she was going through some bad shit.

I wasn’t, but that’s what I would think if I were in his shoes.

If the worst should happen and her husband hurt her again, I needed Leo to be able to come to me for help. He might not do that if he thought my intentions with her weren’t above board. He’s a protective fucker, which I appreciate. But for Maddie and me, it made sense to keep our communications between us.

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