“Step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” he said to her.

I reached across the console, my fingers digging into the fabric of Jake’s sleeve.

“Don’t let them take you,” I whispered. “Jake, please.”

“It’s okay, Hannah,” he said softly.

He squeezed my hand, his fingers warm despite the freezing air in the cabin.

Then he opened his door and stepped out into the snow.

The freezing wind hit me instantly, making my eyes water and my throat ache.

I scrambled out of the back seat, my boots sinking into the deep, unplowed drifts.

“He is not a deserter!” I yelled, my voice cracking in the cold.

“He was recovering in a military hospital!”

Walter’s voice echoed from the front porch of the trailer.

The rusted screen door banged shut behind him, the sound sharp like a pistol shot.

He stood under the flickering yellow porch light, his heavy wool coat draped over his shoulders.

Logan was right behind him, holding a half-empty bottle of beer.

“He’s unstable, Officer,” Walter called out, walking down the wooden steps.

“My son has been suffering from severe psychological delusions since he returned.”