Free Healing (General's Daughter Book 5) by Breanna Hayse

found out, it was too late for me to go down and get him,” Sam said sadly.
    Her brother gently hugged her. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to make this type of hurt go away.”
    “No, there isn’t. Look at it out there, Mike. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”
    He frowned, watching the crashing waves and the lightening flashing across the sky. “I wouldn’t call it beautiful. Powerful, violent, deadly.”
    “I think it’s beautiful. I’m sorry I got so unbelievably nasty with you. I am so sorry.”
    “I wasn’t listening to reason. That was a time you needed to. Why don’t you get out of those wet things and I’ll make us some hot chocolate?”
    “I’ll make it. We can sit out here and watch the storm, okay?”
    “Sounds good.”
    Sam handed him a mug of steaming hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows) and walked outside. She sat back on the swing, watching the waves quietly.
    He joined her. “I see why you like storms,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “There’s something about them that makes everything else seem obsolete.”
    “Nothing you can do can stop it. It’s the ultimate force. Yet, underwater, it becomes tranquil. It’s the only escape, deep under. I hope the family is okay driving home,” Sam said suddenly, glancing at the clock.
    “They’ll be fine. Dad’s a good driver. Scott, well… Dad won’t let him drive in this weather.” Michael chuckled.
    Sam leaned against her brother’s chest. “Still want me as your partner?”
    “I want no one else. Do you still want me?”
    “I’d have no other. Twins?” She held out her knuckles.
    He joined his. “Twins.”
    The family arrived forty minutes later, coming in through the garage. “I can’t believe how much it’s pouring out,” Scott grumbled.
    “Shh, they’re sleeping,” Dr. Quimby said, stopping everyone from talking. The two were on the couch, wrapped together under a blanket. “They’ll be up in a while, just sleeping off the mission. Rich, your turn to cook,” the man whispered, beckoning Rich and Jen into the kitchen.
    Rich raised his eyebrow, “Me? I don’t live here.”
    “You’re here enough that you can take a turn cooking. Better you then her.” Scott thumbed Jen.
    “I cook just fine, thank you. At least I can do more than BBQ,” Jen huffed with hands on hips and staring up into Scott’s face.
    He looked down at her, hands on his hips. “Getting brave with me now, aren’t you, shorty?”
    “You don’t scare me. Much,” Jen answered back, keeping a straight face. Scott continued to stare, but Jen refused to be intimidated.
    Dr. Quimby finally broke it up. “She’s been getting lessons from Mike about seeing through your stares, old friend. Stop picking on the kid. You’re in a crappy mood.”
    Scott grunted and Jen grinned with satisfaction. Only Rich noticed the shaking in her legs. He hugged her. “You are so brave, little sister. Staring down the big old bear.”
    “She did better than you could, boy,” Scott grumped.
    Rich raised an eyebrow. “You sure of that, Scott? Do you really want to go there?”
    “Okay, you two, we have enough testosterone in this house to fuel a warship. Rich, dinner. Scott, your turn to take out the trash. Jen, set the table. Hustle, all of you,” Dr. Quimby ordered, snapping his fingers. Grumbling, all three obeyed. Satisfied, Dr. Quimby returned to the living room with his paper.
    Michael woke, sniffing as he stirred out of a deep sleep. “Mmm, something smells good,” he commented, sitting up and stretching, carefully adjusting his sister to lie in his lap. She mumbled something, snuggling into his thigh.
    “How are you doing, son? Everything okay?” Dr. Quimby asked softly, standing to retrieve his daughter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and curled against him as he sat back down.
    “All went well. She did great out there. I was majorly stupid, but she saved my neck. Where’s Jen?”
    “Helping Rich with