Lena brought my son over and placed him in my arms.

The warmth of his tiny body calmed the shaking in my hands.

“What are you going to name him?” Lena asked softly.

“Ethan junior,” I said.

“But we’ll call him Tommy, after my grandfather.”

The grandfather who had died believing his wife was already gone.

I held my son tight, staring at the door.

I knew my father wouldn’t just walk away.

He was a man who built his entire reputation on being a respected community member.

If the truth about Margaret and the military pay came out, he would lose everything.

The hospital room was warm, but a cold draft seemed to blow from the window.

Outside, the afternoon sun was beginning to dip below the pine trees of the Florida panhandle.

I had less than twenty-four hours to prepare for the drive to Ocala.

I needed to secure my son’s safety first.

I dialed the number for the base housing office to request an emergency lock change on my suburban home.

As the line rang, I looked at the door.