“There was one?”
McCabe looked over his shoulder at him, grinning. “Sometimes being out of touch can be a blessing, my friend.”
“That it can.” Hugh stepped alongside him and they stood together quietly. Hugh took in the still earth, the flow of business moving at a steady clip. Not dragging, but not too hurried either.
McCabe finally turned to him again. “Take twelve hours, check in with a doc, and then you’re going to report in for duty.”
“I can report up now.”
“No offense, but you’re not known for understanding human limitations. Take twelve hours. I’ve got half our guys out there now.” McCabe was a lighthearted dude—except when he wasn’t. And right now, he was wearing the no-bullshit expression. “You can join the rest when we rotate.”
“Yes, sir.” He knew an order when he heard one.
McCabe clapped him on the back once more before starting toward his Humvee. He called over his shoulder. “Just in case you were wondering, the lady you saved ran into that storage tent about ten minutes ago. She looked pretty upset.”
Hugh snapped to attention, his focus zipping over to the supply tent, drab gray and so densely packed with pallets he couldn’t see inside. He thought about her inside alone, and given the family reunion she’d just had, he could too easily figure out what must have happened. She’d passed over her nephew to his parents.
A baby she’d grown attached to this week. How could she not, after all they’d been through? She’d been ready to die for that child. Had fought to stay alive for him after the earthquake, making sure Hugh never forgot the boy was there, insisting he was alive when anyone else would have given up. Joshua owed her his life.
And again she’d given him a chance at a bright future in handing him over to his parents.
Hell, even thinking about not seeing the kid’s six-toothed smile brought a lump to Hugh’s throat. It wasn’t as if he’d expected to keep Joshua. But the way Amelia had been chipping through emotional walls, getting him to dig around in his past, brought everything roaring painfully to the surface.
Shining through it all? Amelia, with her grit and her strength.
He didn’t even have to think of what to do next.
His feet were already moving fast to find her.
***
Amelia sat with her back against a huge wooden crate of supplies resting on top of a pallet. The far corner of the tent was dark and private, the perfect place for sobbing her ungrateful heart out.
Hugging her knees, she rocked, her face pressed into her legs to muffle her cries. She should be thankful to be alive, to have come through everything with Joshua alive. Major McCabe had even given her a personal update to let her know the raid on Jocelyn’s place had been a success. Not even a shot fired. Hugh was fine.
And her heart was shattering over relinquishing a child that had never even been hers in the first place.
The sound of footsteps startled her. She reached for her gun—only to realize she didn’t have it anymore. It had been taken from her when they returned. She shot to her feet, nerves stirring in her stomach. How could she have forgotten already what a dangerous place this was?
“Amelia?”
The sound of Hugh’s deep bass rumbled through the tent, and she sagged against the crate with relief. She just barely caught herself from sliding down to the ground again. Only pride kept her upright.
“Over here,” she called, scrubbing her wrist under her nose. Her eyes were probably swollen and her nose red, but Hugh had definitely seen her looking worse.
She heard his steps come closer as he walked through the maze of crates and pallets, finally reaching her shadowy, private corner.
Leaning a shoulder against the wooden crate, he studied her so long she resisted the urge to swipe her nose again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Not really,” she answered honestly. “But I will be.”
He stroked her ponytail until it draped over her shoulder and somehow that light pressure was like a soothing massage to her achy head.
“Amelia, I am so sorry.”
“For what?” She didn’t move, just enjoyed the feel of his fingers lifting lock after lock, stroking, lightly tugging.