Bragg, North Carolina December 22, 2011 She wasn’t supposed to be here. Aimee Gardner’s nervous heartbeat pounded the thought through her brain. She wasn’t supposed to be standing on the tarmac with the other military wives who waited for their husbands to climb off the transport. She didn’t belong any more, no matter how her heart yearned otherwise. Kyle had seen to that. Him and the divorce he had insisted he wanted. Denied even the opportunity to speak to him, she’d refused to sign the papers, but the state gave Kyle his divorce. Still, her heart hadn’t let go. It never would. She loved that stupid, headstrong buffoon too much. And she loved the noble, fearless, soldier even more. Jet engines whined to a stop, and the plane came to a standstill. Aimee’s grip tightened on Conner Walsh’s forearm as her heart leapt into her throat. Would Kyle walk off? Or would he be in a chair? She knew only the vaguest details, bits and pieces Conner had gathered from his commander, about Kyle’s extensive surgeries and rehab in Germany.
