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dawned in his eyes. The look of war transformed into instant sorrow. “Sydnie? What’s going on? Why are we up here?”
    She stared at him with wide eyes, sincere with concern. “It’s okay, Mason, you’re all right. Nobody is taking you anywhere but home.”
    “Home?” Tears flooded those expressive brown eyes.
    “Yeah…” She fought back the urge to cry. “I’ll drive you home in your truck. You wanted to see me drive your truck, right?”
    He nodded, then everything seemed to hit him at once. “They’re all dead. My whole fucking unit killed by some fucking bomb. They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Heartache flooded his voice. He reached for her.
    “Yeah, I’m so sorry. They are gone.” She knelt beside him and opened her arms.
    “I’m sorry, baby,” he cried, falling against her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his forehead against her chest. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He wept quietly in her embrace.
    Tears streamed down the sides of her face, but she held it together and didn’t make a sound. The demons in this man’s head were real yet not. She’d never dismiss him, never mock him, or never hand him over to the men in white coats.
    They stayed there on the floor for quite some time. She rested her cheek against his head and held him close, offering comfort to the bravest of the brave. Men who gave their life for others did not deserve to be cast aside when war took its toll. She did not agree with anyone outside that bedroom door.
    Gradually, Mason pulled himself together. “Thank you, baby…thank you.”
    “You don’t have to thank me.” She touched his face as their eyes met. “I should be thanking you.”
    “See what I mean? Nobody can handle me. They call the psych ward to take me away. Then those fuckers shoot me up with their mind drugs.”
    “I’m not calling anyone. Are you ready to go home? I can drive.”
    “Yeah. How are we gonna get past the white coats out there?”
    “Don’t worry about it.” She stood up and pulled him with her. “I’m tougher than I look.”
    “I don’t wanna be alone tonight,” he whispered. “I’m not trying to get sex. I’ll sleep on the couch if you’ll just stay.”
    “I’ll stay. We can watch TV.”
    He laced his fingers through hers on one hand. “I’m coming out,” he called to whoever waited on the other side. “If anyone fucking touches me or Sydnie, I’ll cut their throat.”
    “Where did you get that knife?”
    “It’s a pocket knife. I always carry it.”
    “ That …is a pocket knife?” She raised her brows.
    “Sort of.” He let out a short laugh, then slowly opened the door.
    Jack and the two medics stood as if ready to tackle. Sydnie scowled at them. Nobody said a word as Mason cautiously inched past—knife in hand.
    Glenda waited at the bottom of the stairs. “How’d you do it, sweetheart?”
    Sydnie shrugged modestly. “I don’t know. I just stepped into his world for a moment to make a connection. He doesn’t want this.”
    His mother surprised her with a warm hug. “I’ll call later to see how he’s doing.”
    She nodded agreeably, sensing that this woman felt truly helpless on how to help her troubled son. “Don’t worry. I’m sure once the alcohol leaves his system, he’ll be fine.”
    They walked outside and toward his truck. The other guests quieted as they sat around a large picnic table. She glanced at them before climbing into the cab of Mason’s truck. He hopped into the passenger side without saying a word. She wondered how he felt about their silence.
    The keys were still in the ignition and fortunately the transmission was automatic. Though she’d driven standard-shift cars in her past, she wasn’t entirely skilled with them.
    “You do look really cute driving my truck,” Mason said with a bright smile as they pulled away.
    “And you look like you’re feeling better.”
    He nodded.
    “No more drinking tonight, okay?” she pleaded.
    “Okay. Like I said, I get