GABRIEL AND I STOOD AT the dock. We’d spent all week making Pat’s welcome home sign. It was decorated with trains, American flags, frogs, and seals, the kind you found at the aquarium. In big letters it read, “Welcome home Patrick. Husband, Father and Hero.”

Vic’s mom and his daughter also waited with us. Poor Vic still hadn’t found anyone. He was such a great guy, but he was super picky. At least Kyle was in love, or so Pat said. I’d believe it when I saw it. Supposedly, he’d fallen head over heels for a NFL Cheerleader on the USO tour, one of the San Diego Wildfire Girls. Kyle, Pat and Vic had another rescue adventure—the USO convoy hit an IED and insurgents had taken the women hostage. Unlike my rescue, this one had been all over the news. I kept my eyes glued to the television, hoping to see a clip of my husband. But, of course, they’d managed to evade the media and their names and pictures were kept out of the press. Though this time, credit was given to SEAL Team Seven. Pat said it was just another day at work, completely humble and modest. He, Kyle, and Vic tried to pretend that saving people was no different than pushing papers around in an office. I had to admit, I had a twinge of jealousy knowing that my fine-ass husband had been surrounded by beautiful cheerleaders, who no doubt wanted him. Sexy girls without horrible pasts. I found myself stalking the cheerleaders’ website—eyeing the brunettes, wondering if one of them had caught Pat’s eye. I knew I was just being paranoid and insecure. Still deep down questioning that Pat could ever truly love me. But he went out of his way to assure me how much he worshipped me, every chance he got. I never doubted his fidelity.

Deployment went faster than I’d expected. Pat called every chance he could, which was around every week or so. He sent me letters, gifts for Gabriel, toys for Trigger. He was so kind, thoughtful and romantic. I thanked my stars every day that he was mine.

Gabriel was now in preschool, and I was taking college classes. Only two, because I wanted to ease back into it. The SEAL wives had been so amazing and welcoming—always ready with a casserole or last minute babysitting.

I’d pretty much cut out my old friends, except for Chris. He was still there for me and we met up weekly. He took Gabriel surfing every week. Pat swore he was okay with it, but I knew it made him jealous that another man was playing with his son.

As for my parents, I hadn’t seen them. At all. My mom had called me a few times, begging me to try to work things out with my father, but I wasn’t ready. Not until Patrick was back home. I needed his emotional support and to make sure they accepted him and Gabriel before I agreed to rejoin my family.

Patrick’s mom had come down to visit. I loved her—she was so sweet and warm and Gabriel adored his Granny. She’d even started looking for a job down here. Pat wanted her to move so she could be around for me when he was deployed.

“Mama. It’s Daddy!”

Patrick was standing at the helm of the ship, wearing his sailor uniform, complete with the bib, tie, and bellbottoms. He had at first refused to “man the rail,” but I told him how Gabriel would think it was so cool and how much it would turn me on to see him from the dock. He wanted to make me happy. I knew how much he hated that uniform, but I thought he looked sexy, the way the fabric clung to his ass. My husband was fucking gorgeous.

Pat walked down the gangplank and ran to us. I was so nervous—last time we had greeted him, I didn’t think he’d ever wanted to see me again. Now, we were a family.

He lifted up Gabriel, and pulled me into his strong embrace. A kiss. Long, sweet, loving. His lips, I’d missed them so. I couldn’t wait until tonight to be alone with him.

“Hey babe.” He placed his hand on my belly, now swollen. I was four months pregnant. “How’s our little girl?”

“She’s good. Excited to have her daddy home.” I’d been so nervous to tell him I was pregnant. I’d found out right after he deployed. It was so soon, our marriage, now a new baby. But Pat and I did everything on fast-forward. He was so excited for our new addition, and he went out of his way to tell me over and over how he would never treat Gabriel any different than his biological child. But I never doubted that. And he’d given me the best gift of all—he delayed his plans to apply for SEAL Team Six. He’d instead accepted a three-year assignment as a BUD/S instructor, so he would be home with me, non-deployable for three whole years! He would even be around for the birth of our baby. Kyle and Vic signed up to train BUD/S with him; those men were thick as thieves.

I was about to pepper my man with a thousand questions, kiss him some more, nuzzle his chest. But Gabriel was talking his ear off about soccer.

“Annie Hamilton?”

I turned to the voice, which had called out my former name. My former life. “Can I help you?”

A lady in a fitted red suit was standing there. Clearly not a family member waiting for her loved one. “I’m a reporter for 48 Hours. We’ve been trying to locate you for months.”

My number was unlisted, and I hadn’t even told my parents where I lived. The only one from my past life who knew how to contact me was Chris. “Well, you found me. Can’t you see I’m busy? My husband just returned home from deployment.”

Pat was now alerted to this stranger talking to his wife. “Who are you? What do you want?” Jesus, back not even five minutes and Pat’s protective streak was already into overdrive.

“My name is Judy Miller. We’ve been doing an investigation on the disappearance of Nicole Race, and we have information that a sex ring had kidnapped her. Forced her to work in a brothel. In Aruba. With you, Annie. We’d like to talk to you, have you go on record. But either way, the story is about to break.”

I dropped Patrick’s sign and his face went white.

“Listen, lady. I don’t know what the fuck you think you know, but you better get the fuck away from my wife.”

The lady eyed my son. I clutched him to my side.

Fuck—she knew.

I swallowed hard. “No, Pat, wait. I’m ready.” I turned to the reporter. The words overpowered my lips, just like they had that night in the brothel when I’d told Pat my name. “Nicole and I were both kidnapped and sex trafficked in the Caribbean. Nicole is dead; she overdosed on heroin.”

Pat’s jaw dropped; the expression I’d seen on his face when he first saw Gabriel under my covers the night he’d saved me.

The reporter shook her head. “No, Annie. You’re wrong. Nicole Race didn’t die. She’s alive. She had amnesia, was living in a small fishing village in Venezuela, no idea who she was. A United States Marine who’d been on vacation with his buddies recognized her, and rescued her. She’s on her way home to the United States now. And her memory has returned.”

Holy fuck! Was she serious? I’d never seen Nicole’s dead body. She’d vanished in the middle of the night and Renzo had told me that she’d overdosed. Pat held me and I collapsed into his arms.

There was no going back now. It was time. Time to heal. Time to tell the world my story.

The story of my life when I hadn’t been Invincible.

When I had been Invisible.