Page 100 of The Sniper

I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw it in her eyes—the kind of depth that only came from having lived through something. “You’ve been through this?”

She sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “Not the same, but … yeah. The first time Atlas went on a mission after we got serious, it was during a hurricane.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

She laughed softly. “Yeah. The real kind. The storm was tearing through Charleston and he was out in it. I was stuck here listening to the wind scream outside while imagining every worst-case scenario you can think of.”

My throat tightened. “How did you deal with it?”

“I didn’t,” she said honestly. “Not well. I paced. I wrung my hands. I talked through it with the other ladies. Eventually, the storm passed. Both of them.” She looked at me gently. “He came home.”

I nodded, barely able to breathe.

“Izzy’s been through it, too,” Anna continued. “And Claire … she went through worse. She was captured once. Tortured. They found her just in time. He still has nightmares about it. So does she.”

I sucked in a slow breath, trying to keep the tears from rising again. “So it’s not just me,” I murmured. “You all must be worried sick right now, too. Izzy, Claire … you.”

Anna nodded, her expression soft but weary. “Yeah. We are. We always are when they’re out there. Doesn’t matter how many times they’ve made it home—we never stop worrying. Not until we’re looking them in the eye again.”

I looked down at my lap, fingers tangled in the hemof my dress. “I feel selfish. Like I’m falling apart and forgetting you’re all in it.”

“You’re not selfish,” she said. “You’re in love. And that kind of love? The kind you build on nights like this—it connects us all. Me, Izzy, Claire. Now you.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered.

Anna reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re already doing it.”

My stomach turned. “How do you live like this? Loving someone who walks through hell for a living?”

Anna smiled again, not sad this time. Strong. “You don’t love them because of what they do. You love them in spite of it. Because when they come home—when they hold you like the world finally stopped spinning—it’s worth it.”

I reached for her hand, and she held it tight.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For being here.”

She squeezed gently. “We’re not just the women who love the Dane brothers, Hallie Mae. We’re the women who survive beside them. That makes us family.”

I swallowed hard, that word—family—settling in my chest.

Anna stood, brushing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. “You’ll like Claire and Izzy. We’ve all got different stories, but we’ve lived the same kind of chaos. If you want, we could all go together. To the funeral, I mean.”

That cracked something inside me.

I turned away, but too late—tears welled hot and fast, spilling before I could stop them. My knees buckled a little, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing trembling fingers to my lips.

Anna was beside me in a heartbeat, her hand on my back.

“I’m sorry,” I choked. “It just hit me all at once.”

She didn’t rush me. Just let the silence settle like a blanket until I found the words.

“It’s Noah,” I said finally, voice raw. “He’s been my rock through all this. When they called me to identify my daddy’s body … I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And then he showed up. He didn’t even say anything at first—just wrapped his arms around me and held on until I could speak again.”

Anna’s fingers curled slightly against my spine. “That sounds like him.”

“And I know it’s ridiculous,” I went on, tears spilling freely now, “because it’s happened so fast. All of it. We’ve only known each other a little while, but when I think about the future? About a porch with wind chimes and garden beds and kids running barefoot through the yard?” I shook my head. “I see him there. Every time. Like my soul’s already written him into the story.”

Anna smiled softly. “It’s not ridiculous.”

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