Come Home to Me

by Jessica Scott

  She didn’t expect to see his eyes fill. He ground his teeth, trying to keep the emotion in check. Her heart swelled in her chest but this time, the ache was something good. Something special.

  A gift.

  “This is the second best gift you’ve ever given me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. A shudder ran through him. She tightened her arms around him.

  “What’s the first?”

  “Letting me be there when she was born.”

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  Sam took a step back to see their daughter standing in the doorway. Natalie looked between the two of them. “Are you sad?”

  Sam looked at Patrick. He dropped to his knees in front of her. “No, baby, I’m not sad. Your Mommy just gave me the best Christmas present ever.”

  Natalie frowned. “But all you got her was a sweater and some coffee.”

  Sam covered her mouth and laughed. “Honey, I like my sweater. And that’s my favorite coffee.”

  Natalie looked skeptical, the way only an eight-year-old could.

  Patrick held open his arms until Natalie stepped into his embrace. Buried his face in their daughter’s hair. Sam’s heart ached. “Baby, Mommy just made sure our family would always be a family. And nothing will ever change that.”

  “But you two aren’t married. Don’t people have to be married to be a family?”

  “No, baby, people don’t have to be married to be a family.” She looked at Patrick. “But I think I would like to be married to your Daddy very much.”

  “This is the best Christmas ever.” A slow smile spread across her daughter’s lips. She leaned forward with a happy sound, her arms around both their necks. “I got everything on my list.”

  Sam rested her cheek against Patrick’s shoulder.

  “Me, too,” he whispered. “All I ever wanted was you. Both of you. Forever.”

  She closed her eyes and felt. Everything. All of it. The sadness and the happiness. The joy and the sorrow. It was so much. So overwhelming.

  But at the center of it all was Patrick and their daughter.

  Steady. Safe.

  She’d almost lost him. She’d almost lost herself.

  The war would never leave her.

  But in that moment, she knew she had a chance to really come home. They had a chance. As a family.

  Maybe they’d gotten their miracle after all.

  * * *

  Keep reading for a special look at Homefront, the next book in the Homefront series.

  * * *

  The HOMEFRONT Series, Book 1

  * * *

  Jessica Scott

  Jessica@jessicascott.net

  http://www.jessicascott.net

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  * * *

  "Beautifully Written" JoAnn Ross - New York Times Bestselling author of the Shelter Bay series

  * * *

  He’s always loved her…

  * * *

  First Sergeant Gale Sorren waited a war and half a lifetime for a chance to get stationed near the ex-wife who left him years ago. When he finally musters the courage to see her, the life he imagined she was living was nothing close to the reality.

  * * *

  She’s never stopped loving him…

  * * *

  Melanie never stopped worrying about Gale each time he headed off to war. But he’s never been there when she needed him and she’s had fifteen years to steel her heart against him.

  * * *

  But when Gale moves to Fort Hood, he finally has a chance to make things right with Melanie and the daughter she raised without him.

  * * *

  Can Mel trust her heart to a man who has always let her down?

  * * *

  The HOMEFRONT Series

  Come Home to Me

  Homefront

  After the War

  Forged In Fire

  * * *

  Note – these books are fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidence

  * * *

  PROLOGUE

  * * *

  Tal Afar, Iraq

  * * *

  Tal Afar

  Late 2006

  * * *

  Shit days were nothing new. In fact, Sergeant First Class Gale Sorren was on a thirty-six day streak, and there was no sign that they were coming to an end any time soon. But he had to keep going.

  No matter how much he might want to take a knee.

  The funeral detail was somber and professional, the flight line dead silent now that the aircraft had killed its engines. His throat closed off. His eyes burned. He held his salute as the caskets moved slowly past, one after another in slow procession. His arm trembled from holding it for what felt like a lifetime, but there was no way in hell he was going to drop it.

  Three of his boys were heading home tonight.

  There was no sadness. No raging grief. Only a sober, silent tribute to the fallen.

  The rage would come later. Much later. For now, there was too much work to be done.

  He dropped his salute and listened to his boys speak of the dead. Tell of their heroism. Their bravery.

  Gale said nothing. There were no words that could get past the block in his throat. So he let his men remember their friends while he stood watch.

  He stood there, long after the rest of the battalion had left the airfield. The Air Force security guard came and went and came again. The kid finally gave up trying to get him to move hours later.

  It was probably for the best.

  A stone skittered across the blazing asphalt. He watched it tumble to the edge of the tarmac and land in a pothole.

  He glanced over at the source of the stone’s movement. Tellhouse, one of his fellow platoon sergeants walked up. Tellhouse was a sergeant first class like Gale. Promotable, too, which meant they were both going to be looking for other jobs soon. Gale didn't really want to leave his boys mid deployment because he got promoted out of his position.

  Gale liked Tellhouse for the most part. Except for his temper. They needed to work on that. After all, there couldn’t be two of them enrolled in anger management training. Sarn’t Major would crush the both of them. The problem was they both tended to get pissed off about the same things at the same time.

  Tellhouse pushed his eye-pro up higher on the bridge of his nose. “First Sarn’t needs you at the company.”

  Gale made a noise and tried to summon an ounce of give-a-shit over what the First Sergeant wanted. Maybe if the fucker left the office once in a while, Gale wouldn't be strung out trying to take care of three platoons instead of just his own. Thank God Tellhouse was competent or Gale might have lost his shit a long time ago.

  Finally, he shifted his weight and moved.

  Maybe someday he’d find the grief for his soldiers.

  But that day was not today. Not when they had a mission gearing up in about six hours.

  He breathed out deeply and fell into step with his fellow NCO. The walk was solemn and silent and filled with things neither of them could say. The war was nothing new. Both of them had spent more than their fair share of time in Hell.

  But sometimes, days like this just got the best of you.

  He stepped into the dark interior of the company ops. Funny how a few pieces of plywood and a couple of extension cords suddenly made an office. He stopped short, though, when he saw the battalion command sergeant major standing with the first sergeant. Not extremely out of the ordinary. Except that Gale had the distinct impression Sarn't Major was waiting for him.

  Gale swallowed the tight knot in his throat that wouldn’t seem to budge. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, looking between the two senior NCOs.

  First Sarn’t handed him a sheet of paper. “You got a Red Cross message.”

  The knot in his throat swelled, blocking his airway as he
looked down at the handwritten note.

  The room spun out at the edges when he saw Jamie’s name.

  The words blurred together. Hospitalized. Stitches. Psychiatric ward.

  He breathed deeply and looked up at his leadership. “When can I leave?”

  It was the sergeant major who spoke. “I can’t let you go. Your daughter’s life isn’t in immediate danger. She’s safe. Your ex-wife didn’t request your presence.”

  A loud buzzing filled Gale’s head, blocking out the sound of the sergeant major’s words. “My daughter’s in the hospital,” he finally managed. “I need to be there.”

  Sarn’t Major shook his head, his expression flat and emotionless. “That’s not going to happen, sarn’t.”

  Gale couldn't say what happened next. An urge to do violence slammed through him. He imagined driving his fist into the sarn’t major’s face and beating the lines off that sun-worn leather skin. All the rage, all the fury boiled up in a single violent flash.

  The next thing he knew, he was back outside. Tellhouse's hands were driving into his chest, holding him against the wall. “Stop. Sorren, fucking stop.”

  Tellhouse's words finally penetrated the fog. Gale blinked rapidly and looked at the other platoon sergeant. He stopped struggling to get free.

  Tellhouse took a step back but still kept his body between Gale and the door. Gale stood there for a moment, reality crashing through the haze of violence, grief, and rage. Helpless, potent rage. “I need a few minutes,” was all he could manage before he executed an about face and walked away.

  Then there was no rage. No more red-tainted visions of violence. This was something more. Something he couldn't name and couldn't process.

  Jamie was in the hospital. His daughter was in the fucking hospital and Melanie hadn’t requested his presence.

  He barely felt the gravel beneath his boots as he walked back to his CHU. He was stuck half a world away in a fucking war that he no longer even hated, and there was nothing he could do.

  He closed the door to his CHU. Locked it behind him with a solitary, metallic click.

  He stood for a moment in the Spartan emptiness. There was a light coat of dust on the old leather chair he’d gotten from a major on his way out of country.

  A box of unopened Pop Tarts had fallen over.

  All around him was dust and dirt. There was an explosion somewhere in the distance. A pop of gunfire at the test fire pit. The war was fucking everywhere.

  He stood there in the center of his CHU. There was something broken inside him when he couldn’t even cry over his fallen soldiers any more.

  Something broken that he was unable to name that he couldn’t be there when his little girl needed him.

  The air conditioner in his CHU kicked on. His cheeks were suddenly cool.

  He lifted one hand at the unexpected sensation.

  His fingertip came away wet.

  He unclenched his other hand. The Red Cross message was still there, crumpled at his fingertips.

  The Red Cross Message that told him his daughter was in the hospital.

  The wetness on his cheeks grew colder, spread down his neck as the words on the paper blurred.

  He dropped to his knees, doubled over as the violent, unrestrained grief ripped him apart.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  Fort Hood, Texas

  2009

  * * *

  If there was a hell, First Sergeant Gale Sorren was certain this was it. In fifteen years, he’d never been assigned to Fort Hood, and while he'd been begging to be assigned here for years, he remembered with punishing clarity why people had recommended he avoid the home of America’s First Team for so long.

  It was fucking hot.

  He thought he knew hot. Hell, he’d spent enough time at Fort Benning and in Iraq to be intimately familiar with just how hot the planet could get.

  But somehow, Fort Hood took hot to a whole new level. It was a dry heat, his last sarn’t major had said when he’d given Gale the news that he was getting his assignment wish and being sent to Hood.

  It was just past the ass crack of dawn and the sun wasn’t even thinking about coming up yet, and it was already a hundred degrees. Next to him, his commander, Captain Teague Teague, was busy being a smart ass. It was his totem animal, or so he said.

  “I wonder if the Sarn’t Major would let us run in just our PT belts.”

  Gale shot him his best are you high expression. Teague grinned and raised his hands. Teague was Gale’s commander and technically that made him Gale’s boss but the commander/first sergeant relationship was . . . How had Sarn't Major Cox put it once when Gale had threatened to kill one of his platoon leaders for getting drunk with the soldiers back at Benning? It was an arranged marriage. A unique description, Gale supposed.

  “I'm thinking that might get us both fired,” Gale said mildly.

  "Really?"

  "No, not really. It'll get the sarn't major's boot surgically implanted in my ass." Gale stopped a soldier and told him to tighten his PT belt around his waist. The new Corps sergeant major had a thing about uniform violations and a loose PT belt was a cardinal sin these days. "Besides, it could be worse."

  “How?”

  “We could be patrolling Sadr City in this weather in full kit.”

  “You know—” Teague snapped his fingers “—that is an excellent point.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked toward the PT formation area. “I really wish we didn’t have mandatory fun today.”

  They were both in ACUs. Gale resented the hell out of any morning that didn’t start off with PT, but he damn sure resented it when he was forced to skip PT to go to breakfast. What kind of animals started their days with food? Give him coffee and a good six-mile run any day of the week. “Don’t get me started.”

  “At least there’ll be coffee.” Teague frowned and glanced at him. “There will be coffee at this kind of thing, right?”

  “Do I look like I have the slightest idea what we're doing today?” Gale needed to be spending time with his formation, not doing whatever the hell they were going to do this morning. He was still getting to know his troops and their issues—and there were a lot of them. Issues, that is. "It's not like I spend my free time checking the battalion's social roster."

  “Hell, I don’t know what you do on the weekends other than bailing kids out of jail.” Teague glanced over at him and Gale braced for more sarcasm. “Do you even have free time—oh hey."

  Instantly his commander's expression softened. Gale followed his line of vision to see Teague's other half, Major Olivia Hale, talking to the battalion commander.

  “I know what you do with yours,” Gale mumbled and tried not to be jealous of the new and shiny love between his commander and the battalion's lawyer. Major Hale nodded at Teague in acknowledgement and turned back to her conversation with the battalion commander.

  It was the subtleness of her gesture that convinced Gale that she and Teague had a good chance at making things work. They were a good fit. She kept Teague honest in more ways than one, and they were both very good at keeping things professional at work.

  It was a nice change from all the drama Gale dealt with on a daily basis. Pissed off spouses, cheating soldiers, and everything between. Life in the Army sometimes felt more like a reality TV show than a professional organization.

  He peeled away from his commander and headed to the front of the formation where his platoon sergeants were talking with each other. Sergeant First Class Iaconelli was the Headquarters platoon sergeant, and while Gale had his misgivings about a recovering alcoholic on the team, Iaconelli had proven to be a rock since he’d come to work for him.

  “Are we set for the range tomorrow?” Gale asked Iaconelli.

  Iaconelli nodded. “Roger, Top. Final checks today before lunch time.”

  “Make sure we pull some camo out for shade.” When one of the other platoon sergeants started to protest, Gale talked over him. “We don’t need
to practice being hardcore in the heat. We need to be able to shoot, and we can’t do that if soldiers are dropping from dehydration.”

  Iaconelli nodded. “Got it, Top.”

  Gale jerked his chin, and Iaconelli stepped away from the formation. “You talked to Foster today?”

  Foster was on convalescent leave for surgery to repair a torn meniscus. He was also struggling with addiction to methamphetamines. “Roger. He called in like he’s supposed to.”

  “How is he doing?” If Gale had serious misgivings about Iaconelli, he had even more about keeping Foster in the ranks but these men meant a lot to Teague. He was keeping a very close eye on both situations, however. If the time came that he needed to recommend the commander take action, Gale would do what needed to be done.

  “He sounded steady. I’m going to swing by and check on him after PT.”

  “Good. If you get even a hint that something is wrong, I want every pain pill counted.”

  “Roger, Top.” There was resentment in Iaconelli’s answer, too obvious for Gale to ignore.

  “Something you want to say?”

  Iaconelli looked out over the formation, grinding his teeth until the muscle in his jaw looked about to snap. “It’s hard enough staying sober without everyone looking at you like you’re using all the time.”

  Gale said nothing for a long moment. "Are we still talking about Foster?"

  Iaconelli didn't look away. “"It doesn't matter. But maybe give him the benefit of the doubt?”

  Gale folded his arms over his chest and said nothing for a long moment. He wasn't looking for a fight with one of his platoon sergeants. If Iaconelli needed to get this off his chest, then so be it. Finally, when Iaconelli let the silence stand, Gale spoke. “The fact that he’s still in the Army and recovering from surgery while he's trying to get clean is benefit of the doubt.”