Homefront Holiday. Jillian Hart

had pulled through his risky surgery two months ago. He thought of all the others he’d treated—both soldier and civilian alike—who had not been so fortunate. Right from the start there had been something incredibly special about this plucky boy.

      Ali stared up at Mike with his wide soulful eyes. “How come you didn’t call? Why?”

      Talk about feeling like a heel. Mike jammed his fists into his coat pockets and did his best to ignore Sarah standing protectively behind the boy. “I couldn’t. I was on a plane flying home. I wanted to talk to you. You understand, right?”

      “Okay. You gonna call me today?” Hope brightened the boy. “When?”

      “I’m seeing you right now.” Mike laughed as he scrubbed his hand over the kid’s short brown hair. “Isn’t that enough?”

      “You gonna see me?” Hope lit the boy up like Christmas. “When?”

      The kid wasn’t understanding him. Mike shook his head, finding gentleness for the boy, though gentleness wasn’t something he was good at. He felt awkward as he knelt down. He could feel the weight of Sarah’s gaze and he ignored it. He focused on what mattered—this kid was going to be his son. “Sorry, buddy, this is it.”

      “But you said today.” Ali cocked his head. His forehead scrunched up in thought. “You can come see me later. For supper? Sarah’s gonna make my second favorite.”

      Macaroni and cheese, hot dogs and green beans. Mike didn’t even have to ask. It had been his plan to stop by the commissary on the way to his duplex. Those foods were at the top of his shopping list. He didn’t know how long it would take to get custody of the boy, but Mike liked being prepared. Now, if only he could keep ignoring the sensation of Sarah’s gaze.

      No such luck. He drew in a breath, gathered his courage and turned to face her. It took all his strength to keep the past from flashing through his mind, but it did anyway. Remembering that rainy October night as he’d stood huddled beneath her porch roof, wet with rain and ripped apart by her quiet words telling him it was over. Pain hit him, as fresh as a new wound.

      Let it go, man. He squared his shoulders, met her gaze and held his heart cement-still. Let her see the man he was today. Resolute, unaffected and completely over her.

      Was that a hint of panic flitting across her delicate features? He shifted his weight and stared down the sidewalk. Folks kept swerving around them, hurrying on with their lives. It felt surreal to stand here on a safe, Texas street when a few days ago he had been surrounded by helicopters and artillery fire.

      He started walking back a step. Unaffected, that’s what he was. As cold as stone. “Don’t worry, Sarah. I’ll explain it to him.”

      “No, uh, Mike, I’m just—” She looked a little helpless, as if she were having a hard time wrestling with all of this. Her hand went to Ali’s shoulder, a protective, motherly gesture, and he had never seen her eyes so sad.

      He had to fight the natural urge to make it easier for her. He stormed over to the hardware store’s glass door and yanked it open. All he’d ever wanted to do was to make things easier for her, but it was no longer his duty. This was the woman who hadn’t wanted him. “Forget it, Sarah. You don’t owe me any explanations. Ali, I promise I’ll call you tonight, buddy.”

      “No, you’re comin’ to eat mac ’n’ cheese, remember?”

      Mike let the door swing closed. As much as he had to walk away from Sarah, he had to set things right with the kid. He owed that to the boy. He ran his hand over Ali’s dark brown hair and ruffled it. “I can’t make it tonight, buddy.”

      “You can’t?” Some of the sparkle slid from the boy’s midnight dark eyes. “How come?”

      Mike gulped, seeing the disappointment set in. “I’m sorry.”

      “Okay.” The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Can you come tomorrow?”

      “Tomorrow?” Mike crooked one eyebrow in surprise. How could he make the boy understand? He knelt down so he was eye level with the kid. But where did his gaze go?

      To Sarah, standing on the busy sidewalk, next to the hardware store’s front window displaying Christmas paraphernalia, keeping just enough distance to make it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

      “Dr. Mike?” Ali tugged on Mike’s coat sleeve. “You don’t like mac ’n’ cheese?”

      Mike gulped. He was capable of long, unrelenting shifts in the E.R., he didn’t bat an eyelash when mortar rounds vibrated through the floor in his operating room, but having to see the hurt etched on the boy’s face made his knees weak.

      “I think there is only one solution and you’re not going to like it.” Sarah shook her head slowly, looking beautiful with the wind in her soft auburn hair and sadness vibrant in her jeweled blue eyes.

      Remember, she means nothing to you. He glanced at his to-do list as if that were much more important than she had ever been to him. “I can’t come to supper. I just got back.”

      “Today?”

      “Midmorning.”

      “You probably have a lot to do to get settled.”

      “I do.” His answer was clipped; as if he thought she was dismissing him.

      “You probably have to run errands. Buy groceries.”

      “Right.” He jammed both hands into his coat pockets.

      There was no avoiding the truth that Mike was back, that they would be running into him inevitably from time to time, for Prairie Springs was a small town. Ali would never stop adoring his hero, the man who had saved his life when he had been all alone.

      It was hard for her, too. Every time she looked at this man, she saw that hero, too. She also saw the man she had once given everything in her heart to—and it hadn’t been enough. It was hard to breathe past the ache that put in her throat.

      The past is over, Sarah. You have to accept it. She took Ali by the hand. She had to be practical now. She had to accept that he adored Mike. Denying the doctor who had been his rock would only hurt Ali. That was not something she would do. But the alternative—the solution—was going to be hard for her. Terribly hard.

      She eyed the doctor standing before her as objectively as possible. Travel fatigue lined his strong, handsome face and bruised the skin beneath his eyes.

      Just say it, Sarah. She took a breath, gathered her courage and prayed that she sounded composed. Indifferent. Over him. “You may as well come for dinner tonight—”

      “Yaaaaay!” Ali whooped, already looking just like any other American kid with his fist in the air and happiness on his face.

      “Hold on there. I haven’t answered yet.” Mike chuckled in that warm, low rumble she had once loved so well. He was careful not to look directly at her. “Are you sure, Sarah?”

      “It’s for Ali’s sake. We both understand that.” Ali may be jubilant, but Sarah felt the thunk of dread. She had been trying to prepare herself for this and there was still no way around it. Seeing how Mike was careful to keep distance between them, to be polite to her and reserved, made her think of all that had changed between them.

      Handle this as you would any other guest coming to supper, Sarah thought. If Mike wasn’t Mike but anyone else, what would she be saying right now? How would she be acting? Warmly, that’s how. Friendly. She managed a small smile that she hoped was both. “We usually eat around five. Is that too early for you?”

      “Nope. I’ll be there.” He gave her a curt nod.

      Nothing personal in that nod. They would look like strangers standing on the street to anyone passing by. Strangers. The way it had to be, apparently. Nothing could make her sadder.

      Mike smiled at Ali in that genuine, amazing way that made his hazel eyes golden. “I’ll see you