Chapter 8
The next few weeks were a whirlwind.
The White House ceremony.
The President himself pinning the Navy Cross to my chest.
His words of gratitude.
The applause of a nation.
I should have felt like a hero.
But mostly I just felt tired.
Like I was performing a role someone else had written for me.
But there were good moments too.
Meeting the twenty-three hostages I'd helped save.
Their families.
Their tears of gratitude.
Their hugs.
That had been real.
That had mattered.
And Sarah.
She was there through all of it.
Holding my hand.
Whispering encouragement when the cameras got too much.
Becoming my friend.
My rock.
She was the one who helped me find a place to live.
A small house near the base.
Quiet.
Private.
With a backyard that faced the ocean.
She helped me buy furniture.
Set up my home office.
Made sure I ate.
Made sure I slept.
And slowly, very slowly, I started to heal.
I started therapy.
Dr. Chen had been right.
Talking about it helped.
Not all at once.
Not easily.
But every session peeled back another layer.
Another memory.
Another piece of the pain I'd been carrying.
I started my job.
Working with wounded veterans.
Soldiers who'd come home with scars both visible and invisible.
Men and women who felt broken.
Alone.
Forgotten.
I understood them.
And they understood me.
There was a look in their eyes I recognized.
The same look I saw in the mirror every morning.
The look of someone who'd been somewhere no one should ever have to go.
Someone who'd seen things no one should ever have to see.
And I helped them.
Not with speeches about heroism or patriotism.
But with honesty.
With my own story.
With the simple truth that they weren't alone.
That it was okay to not be okay.
That healing was possible.
My father called.
Not every day.
Not even every week.
But sometimes.
Just to check in.
To ask how I was.
To tell me about his day.
He was volunteering now.
Working with a veterans' organization.
Trying to make amends in his own way.
I didn't discourage him.
I didn't encourage him either.
I just let him be.
We met for coffee once.
Just once.
It was awkward.
Stilted.
We didn't talk about the past.
We talked about the weather.
About my job.
About his volunteering.
It wasn't much.
But it was a start.
My mother tried to contact me.
Letters.
Emails.
Phone calls.
I ignored all of it.
I wasn't ready.
Maybe I never would be.
She'd lied about dying to lure me back.
She'd been a willing participant in Chloe's scheme.
That was a betrayal I couldn't yet wrap my head around.
And Chloe?
She'd pleaded guilty to the federal charges.
No trial.
No drama.
She was sentenced to three years in federal prison.
Three years for destroying five years of my life.
It didn't seem like enough.
But it was something.
She sent me a letter from prison.
I almost didn't open it.
But I did.
Harper,
*I don't expect you to forgive me.
I don't even expect you to read this.
But I needed to write it.
I needed you to know I'm sorry.*
*I was jealous of you.
From the time we were little.
You were always the favorite.
Always the one Daddy was proud of.
Everything came so easily to you.
The Academy.
The missions.
The respect.
I wanted what you had.
And when I couldn't have it, I decided to take it away from you.*
*I told myself you deserved it.
That you were arrogant.
That you thought you were better than me.
But that was a lie.
You were just... you.
Good.
Kind.
Brave.
And I hated you for it.*
*What I did to you is unforgivable.
I know that.
I'll live with that for the rest of my life.
I just wanted you to know I'm sorry.
Truly sorry.
And I hope one day you can find peace.*
Chloe
I read it once.
Then I folded it up and put it in a drawer.
I didn't feel anger.
I didn't feel sadness.
Just... nothing.
Her words meant nothing to me.
She was a stranger now.
Someone who'd once been my sister.
But no longer.
The letter didn't hurt me.
And that, I realized, was progress.
One evening, Sarah came over.
We ordered takeout.
Sat on my back porch.
Watched the sunset over the ocean.
"You're different," she said, sipping her wine.
"From when I first saw you at the Admiral's."
"How so?" I asked.
"You're lighter.
Like you're finally breathing.
Like you're starting to believe you deserve to be happy."
I looked out at the water.
The waves crashing against the shore.
"Do I deserve it?" I asked softly.
"After everything I've been through?
Everything I've done?"
She turned to me.
Her eyes were serious.
"Harper Sterling, you have done more for this country.
Endured more.
Sacrificed more.
Than anyone I have ever known.
You deserve every bit of happiness that comes your way.
Don't you ever doubt that."
She reached over and took my hand.
Her hand was warm.
Strong.
Safe.
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Her smile.
Her kindness.
The way she'd stood by me through everything.
And I realized something.
Something I'd been too scared to admit.
I was falling in love with her.
May you like
And for the first time in a very long time, I wasn't scared.
I was ready.
