Free Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) by Heather Ashby Page A

His high-pitched screams echoed on the air, driving the pilot mad. If Joe would be quiet, George might be able to rescue him.
    He tried to cover his ears, all the while pushing his rescuers away with his elbows. Didn’t they understand? He didn’t care if he lived or died, as long as Joe made it out. Joe had a wife and a baby. Joe deserved to live.
    The rescuers yelled, “Lieutenant! It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re here. Everything’s okay.”
    They kept trying to touch him. To pull him to safety, but he didn’t want to go, because he knew if he lived, and Joe didn’t, he’d pay for it for the rest of his life. Knew it in his bones.
    The screaming continued. He thought he might go insane with it. Joe turned to him on fire and said, “Go, save yourself. I’m already dead. But promise me you’ll take care of Sarah. Please.” He always implored him with that one word: Please.
    Suddenly he realized Joe really was dead. Sarah was screaming. She pummeled George’s chest. Not to put out the flames. To punish him for not saving Joe. He couldn’t fight them any longer. He gave up and let them pull him from the helicopter. They laid him out on the flight deck. Wrapped him in blankets to smother the flames. He was trapped. He tried to kick off the blankets. They pulled Sarah from him, held her, comforted her. But the screaming went on.
    And then he knew. It always happened this way. He was the one screaming. And the hands on him were not putting out flames, but comforting him. To calm him. To quiet him down.
    “Wake up, sir. It’s okay. It’s another nightmare.”
    He bolted up from the bed. His legs were tied up in blankets. He tried to kick them off, which only entangled him further. Panic set in. He flailed harder. Sweat poured from his body. The sheets were soaked. His throat was parched and hoarse from screaming. But he managed to spit out, “Get the hell out of here!”
    He heard footsteps. The door opened and closed. Tears poured down his face. He sniffled and swore he smelled the tang of burning fuel hanging in the air.
    “Leave me alone, Joe. Just leave me the hell alone.”
    Chapter 9

    “You’re playing with fire, Daisy Schneider,” she exclaimed to the mirror, one eye shut as she applied mascara, preparing for church. “He’s infuriating, he’s maddening…and he’s charming as can be. But he’s bad news. For starters, he’s a pilot. And a bullshit artist to boot.” She straightened and assessed herself, then glanced down at Jack’s smiling photo on the bathroom counter. “But Jack, I’m so lonely. I’m doing everything to fill the empty time and space, but it’s not enough.
    “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to have a relationship with him . Guys like that don’t have relationships. Well, they do, but they only last a short time. I’m not going to marry the guy. And what about the kids at the Boys and Girls Club? And Captain Duncan? They’re crazy about Brian. Surely I can’t deny them his company. Maybe I could have a teeny tiny affair and enjoy it for as long as it lasts. You know what? It would serve you right. The way you treated me.” She gathered up her purse and sweater for church.
    She asked herself again why she hadn’t told Brian about Jack. Daisy had learned to be careful who she shared her husband’s death with because people treated her differently once they found out. There were two different camps on the subject: those who handled her with kid gloves and those who shunned her as if death might be contagious. She believed that Brian belonged in the first camp and she had a feeling he might never leave her alone if he knew. But would it be because he wanted to be with her or because he felt sorry for her? Mostly she hadn’t told him because it was none of his business. Besides, there was more to it than Jack’s dying anyway. So she kept it simple. Her personal life was no one else’s concern.
    Daisy felt another stab of guilt as she passed Jack ’ s photos on