Free Return of a Hero by Lindsay McKenna

anymore.”
    Undaunted by his growling rejoinder, she sat, enjoying his presence. “So, you graduated from Annapolis as an officer?”
    “Yes.”
    “Navy?”
    “No…marine corps.”
    Her eyebrows moved upward. “That makes sense.”
    “What does?”
    “When I saw you, you reminded me of a tough-as-nails soldier. The marine corps image suits you.”
    “That’s over with now,” he said in a clipped tone. Moving the bowl of salad to the table, he opened the silver drawer and pulled out the necessary utensils.
    “What’s the saying? You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy? I think that applies to you in a marine corps sense. You’re still a marine at heart, Morgan.”
    “Probably.” She’d never know that he used those skills to this very day.
    “Were you a lieutenant in Vietnam?”
    He placed the silverware on the table, his scowl deepening. “No, a captain.”
    “My dad was a major in the army. He had a company of men to command while he was in Vietnam. Did you?”
    Morgan straightened, feeling the tension thrum through him. “Yeah, I had one hundred sixty men under my command.”
    She tilted her head, hearing raw anguish in his voice. “It’s a terrible responsibility,” Laura whispered. “And knowing you the way I do, I’ll bet you cared deeply for each and every one of them.”
    “Let’s get on another subject, Laura. I don’t feel like discussing this one very much.”
    Laura winced at the anger in his voice. She placed her hands in her lap and bowed her head. “Sometimes I can put my foot in my mouth, Morgan….”
    He’d seen her face go pale at his snarling order to drop the topic. Cursing himself, he went over and knelt in front of her, scooping up her hands in his. “I’m the one who should apologize,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to rip your head off.”
    “No, it’s okay. It’s just that some of your mannerisms make me think of Dad. In some ways you’re alike.”
    “A soldier is a soldier,” he uttered tiredly. “The uniform may be different, but underneath it, we’re all the same. Scared men just trying to do our jobs and uphold our responsibilities.”
    Murmuring Morgan’s name, Laura pulled her hands out of his and slid them across his shoulders. “I feel you’re like Dad. You may have been overresponsible, Morgan. Maybe you cared a little too deeply, a little too much…. That can leave an open wound in your heart and memory. Even to this day.”
    He longed to lean forward and rest his head against Laura. The anguish of the past stared him in the face. “One thing our family prides itself on is responsibility,” he told her in a strained tone. “We have a long military tradition of caring for those under our command. My men were more than numbers to me, Laura. More than just sets of dog tags.”
    She threaded her fingers through his short black hair. “I know,” she whispered, “I know….”
    A cry lodged in Morgan’s throat as she drew him forward. The softness of her fingertips across his neck and shoulders melted his resolve. He shut his eyes, burying his face against her small, warm body. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he felt a shudder work its way up and out of him. She smelled so good, so fresh and clean, when his world consisted of little more than dirt, sweat and desert. He slid his arms around her small waist, aware of her diminutive size against his bulk and brawn. Yet she was strong in ways that he wasn’t right now, and that knowledge shook Morgan to the core.
    Closing her eyes, Laura pressed him against her, his head resting on her bosom. When she felt him shudder, she tightened her arms around him. “Oh, Morgan, you’re so strong for so many, and I know you’re tired,” she murmured against his hair. “I understand that. My dad carried the same terrible weight on his shoulders for almost fifteen years. I saw what his care and concern did to him. Every man was like the son he