“What do you want to talk about today?” Dr. Wilson asks in her best psychologist voice.

“Hazel.”

She frowns. “And who is that?”

“My daughter,” I say, unable to prevent a proud smile from spreading across my face.

Dr. Wilson’s eyebrows rise. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

I smile a little. “Neither did I.”

“Oh.”

I’m still so excited when I think of Hazel. Mac has given me the greatest gift you could ever give to anyone. And she’s right—Hazel is my reason to live. But to know I have a child with Mac, that she and Carey have been trying all this time to tell me this, that she obviously didn’t get back together with Dad… Or did she?

My mood shifts in an instant. She didn’t, right? God, I thought my feelings for her would fade one day, but now they’re stronger than ever.

“Mac obviously heard about me trying to kill myself,” I explain.

Dr. Wilson nods stoically.

“So even though she’s on my blacklist, she just burst into my physical therapy session yesterday and put a little girl on my lap. She said it was my daughter.”

“But you thought…?”

“I, uh, I thought she was Carter’s kid,” I confess. “But it turns out she isn’t.”

“Carter, your father?”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s my dad.”

“And is it indeed possible this child might be your daughter?” Dr. Wilson asks gently, obviously trying to be tactful.

I nod. “Yes, there is. About three years ago, Mac and I spent one night together.”

“While she was still with your father?”

“Yes.”

“So then couldn’t he be the child’s father?”

I shake my head. “Mac wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know herself,” Dr. Wilson points out.

“We never had time to discuss it before,” I say, slightly annoyed. “Ever since that night, I’ve been successfully avoiding her. Whenever we saw each other, I made it clear to her I didn’t want to hear from her.

Dr. Wilson squints at me. “What changed?”

“I don’t know.” I sniff. “I guess she was scared I was actually going to kill myself.”

“So”—Dr. Wilson twiddles her thumbs—“is it possible she made up this situation for that reason?”

I shake my head. Mac wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t! “I trust her.” It takes me a moment, but I realize I mean that one hundred percent. “As strange as it sounds, Mac is one of only two people I always trust.”

Dr. Wilson nods. “Then you should talk to her.”

“I want to. I want to know everything now. But…”

“But what?”

“I asked them to take her off my blacklist, but they refused because she broke the rules barging in on my session yesterday. I was told she was lucky they didn’t sue her for it.”

Dr. Wilson frowns. “I’ll see what I can do.” She looks down at the notepad in her lap and then squints back up at me. “So, Hunter, tell me what it was like holding your daughter.”

“Incredible,” I say, not even trying to hide my smile. “She’s so cute and soft, and she called me daddy. It made me so happy to hear that word out of her mouth. Obviously, Mac’s told her a lot about me. I held her in my arms, and she snuggled up to me. I didn’t know two-year-olds could be such snuggle bugs!”

Dr. Wilson smiles, too. “If Mac told her a lot about you, she must feel as though she knows you already.”

“It was the most beautiful moment in my life. But it also led to the biggest sense of regret I’ve ever felt. I regret not listening to Mac before. Not being there when our baby was born. Not being there and stroking her pregnant belly. Not getting a chance to cut the umbilical cord. I regret every single day I haven’t spent with her. It’s eating me up inside. That I wasn’t there for her.”

“There will always be things we would do different in hindsight. But what matters is that we do everything in our power not to make the same mistakes again.”

I nod. “I don’t want to live without Hazel ever again.”

“And Mac?”

I shrug. “I want her. I love her so much, but…I…” I swallow. “How can she love me now that I’m so…imperfect?”

“Hunter, you need to stop thinking your life is over just because you’ve lost a leg. It is not over. You are no less of a man now than you were before. You have gone through horrible times and survived them. You can overcome this obstacle, too. If you want to be with Mac, and if she wants to be with you, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be together.”

“I can’t do that to her.”

“She needs to decide for herself. She will be part of your life anyway if you want to take care of Hazel. So why not do it as a family—if Mac wants that, too?”

“I…” Yes. That makes sense. So why am I still trying to push her away? “I’m scared,” I finally admit.

Dr. Wilson is silent a moment. “Of what exactly?”

I rub the back of my neck. “That she no longer finds me sexy. I know that’s totally superficial, but…”

“It’s okay. Of course you’re scared of that. You’re still getting used to your prosthetic, and, yes, you look different now. But love and feelings are about more than a person’s looks. She doesn’t love you because she loves your hair, but because she loves you.”

“But…”

“Imagine the situation the other way around. Imagine she had lost her leg. Would you love her less?”

I shake my head vehemently. And it feels like an entire lighting shop lights up in my head.

“See? If she loves you, it’s not because you had two legs. Take things slow. Don’t rush it. Maybe you’ve both changed too much at this point, but maybe not. Don’t push her away. Give her a chance to make her own decisions.”

“Maybe I’m scared of that, too. Of the fact that I’ve become a completely different person over the last three years, and she might not love me anymore.”

“But what if she does?”

The corners of my mouth twitch.

* * *

After the session, I’m informed I have a visitor. It can only be Carey. I wonder whether he’s brought Hazel. Would Mac let her come see me alone? I hope so! I’ve been lying awake all night thinking about my little girl. I did the math and figured out she must have been born in January two years ago. She must be two years and one month now.

I’ve never fallen in love with anybody so quickly. Not even with Mac. But Hazel… Hazel has stolen my heart. I’m so grateful to Mac for telling me, even though I tried to prevent her from telling me anything. Fuck, to think I was such an asshole when she came to see me in Germany! I’m so ashamed of myself.

And she still came here to Virginia with my daughter. To give me this incredible gift.

When I get to the visitors’ room, Hazel’s sitting at a table, drawing. Carey’s sitting next to her, joking around. She laughs, and my heart stings a little seeing them so close, but when she sees me, she calls, “Daddy!” and comes running toward me.

“Hey, Hazel.” I beam at her. Since I’m not that comfortable with my prosthetic yet and I didn’t want to use crutches because then I couldn’t hold her in my arms, I’m in my wheelchair. She lifts her little arms, and my heart stops for a second before I pick her up and squeeze her.

She giggles, touches my face with her tiny hands, and strokes my beard while planting a sloppy little kid kiss on my cheek. I’ve never felt anything better. I sit her down on my lap and try to get over to the table without letting her go.

Laughing, Carey comes over to help us. “Hey, dude,” he says, hitting me on the good shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” I say, and he grins.

“Pitture for Daddy,” Hazel says, suddenly sounding all shy.

I look at the picture on the table, and even though it’s just purple and blue scribbles, I praise it extensively. She beams when she hears that I like it. “I’ll put it on the wall next to my bed,” I promise.

“Mac sent you something, too,” Carey says, handing me a paper bag.

I reach in and pull out a framed picture of Hazel. It seems to be a picture of her birthday party. She’s squishing a cake, her mouth full of icing, laughing so hard my heart opens up.

“She, uh, she’s captured every single day for you,” Carey says.

I gape at him. “What?”

“She’s taken pictures of Hazel every day, and videos, and recordings, and she’s written down what happened every single day. So that one day you could look at it all and not feel like you missed out on anything.”

I’m speechless. Completely speechless. Well, almost. “Fuck.”

“Fut! Fut! Fut!” Hazel squeals.

Carey smiles. “You’ve just learned the first rule of fatherhood: you can’t keep using words like that in the presence of small children. They repeat everything.”

My eyes widen. “Mac’s going to kill me.”

Carey brushes my worry away. “Don’t be silly. She hasn’t killed me, and Hazel’s heard a lot of bad words from me. And, let’s face it, even Mac’s language is not impeccable.”

“Fut!”

Shaking my head, I have to laugh because this is so typical. The long-lost daddy appears and starts teaching his daughter bad language.

Hazel wants to sit on her own chair, so I help her onto it. She starts a new drawing.

“Carey,” I sigh. “Why did you never…?” And then I realize why.

“You told me not to talk about Mac,” Carey says. “I wanted to tell you, but we… Mac and I were both so happy when you got in touch with me. I didn’t want to ruin that by breaking your rules. You would’ve run away again.”

“But it would have changed everything,” I say helplessly.

He nods. “I know. But you didn’t even read Mac’s emails. She wrote to you so many times, telling you all about Hazel…that I… I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t she say anything in Germany?”

“You need to talk to her, Hunter. She’ll tell you everything, and you know it. I can only tell you that not a single day has passed that she didn’t think of you, talk about you. She left her toddler to go see you in Germany. I mean…doesn’t that tell you something?”

My eyes drift to Hazel again. I can’t get enough of her. She’s such a miracle. With an expression of extreme focus on her face, she’s dedicating herself to drawing circles and lots of Hs on the paper.

“I thought Mac…” I stop myself.

“That she was with Dad?” Carey asks, and I nod. “No. She chose you that night. She never went back to him after that.”

“But—”

“Talk to her, Hunter. She can answer all your questions. I can’t.”

“Sergeant Tilman.”

I look up and see Dr. Wilson. “Ma’am?”

“I talked to the charge nurse, but I’m afraid they’re not willing to make an exception.”

My stomach sinks. “What does that mean?”

“Ms. Hall is no longer allowed in the building.”

“They can’t do that!”

She raises her hands placatingly. “I’m sorry. I tried to convince them otherwise because I think it would be good for you to see her. But I was not successful.” She looks at Hazel. “Is this your daughter?”

I never expected it, but a wave of fatherly pride surges through me. “Yes, this is Hazel.”

Dr. Wilson smiles kindly. “Hi, Hazel.”

Hazel doesn’t look at her, just slides across her chair, snuggling up to my leg—to my prosthetic. She clutches me with her little arms, and I stroke her head. I wouldn’t have thought she was shy because she wasn’t shy when she met me. Though, maybe she just didn’t get a chance—Mac plopped her in my lap.

“Hazel?” I ask quietly. She looks up at me, and I see her bottom lip tremble a little. I guess she’s not so tough after all.

Dr. Wilson smiles as Hazel presses her head against my leg. I give Carey a helpless look. He’s smiling but not moving.

“Hazel, is everything okay?” I ask, and she nods. “Do you want to sit on my lap?” I ask, because I have no idea what she wants.

She nods again, and I reach around her to pull her up. As soon as she’s sitting there, she snuggles up to me and looks at my therapist. “Hi,” she murmurs. “This is Daddy.”

Dr. Wilson nods. “Yes, I know.” She kneels down. “I’m Camille. How are you doing?”

“Dood. Haze’s drawin.”

It’s astonishing to see how she’s suddenly not so shy anymore.

“That’s a nice picture,” Dr. Wilson says, nodding at the table. “What is it?”

Hazel bends down and pulls the paper closer. She points at a big, red scribble. “Daddy.” Then she points at a smaller, blue one. “Mommy.” Then a green one. “Ree.” And, finally, she points at a little yellow one. “Haze.”

“Your family,” Camille observes.

Hazel nods. “Yes. Daddy’s here.” She looks at me, and even though I haven’t studied her range of facial expressions that closely, I can see she looks content. I nudge her cheek with my finger like I’ve seen Carey do, and her entire face lights up. I can’t help but pull her closer. She climbs to her feet on my thighs, and her little hands touch my face, stroking my beard. She laughs quietly. “Pritly.”

I smile at her, hoping to show her how much I love her. I don’t want to sound full of myself, but she has good genes from her father. And, obviously, a great mom…

I’ve never missed Mac more than in this moment.

Camille looks kind of humbled witnessing this epic moment between me and my daughter. She stands and smiles before she says, “See you tomorrow,” and leaves the room.

I look at Hazel, thinking about how remarkable Mac is. She’s put my needs above her own. It can’t have been easy for her to be excluded from these first moments of bonding between Hazel and me. And still, she’s doing this for me. I don’t really know, but I think maybe she’s trying to show me that she wants me in our daughter’s life. The thought makes me immensely grateful.

“Do you want me to find out if you could be transferred to San Diego?” Carey asks.

I nod immediately. “Yes.”

“Inpatient or outpatient?”

Even though I want to say outpatient so, so much, I know we shouldn’t rush things. We need to take it slow, take our time to get to know each other again. All of us. I can’t just burst into Mac and Hazel’s life. I don’t even know whether Mac has enough room for me. I don’t know anything about her, I realize. And that’s all my own fault…

“Inpatient.”

Nodding, Carey stands up and moves toward the door, and I feel panic build inside me. Suddenly, the little girl in my arms feels immensely fragile.

“Carey, please don’t—”

He gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s going great. I’ll only be gone a second.”

And then I’m alone with my daughter for the very first time.

I wonder what I’m supposed to do if she falls off my lap or runs away—I wouldn’t be able to catch her. Fuck, I’m completely helpless! And I’ll be helpless forever if I don’t learn to walk with this fucking prosthetic.

“Daddy?”

“Yes…?” What should I call her? Hazel? Or honey? Sugar? I have no idea. God, I’m not equipped to be a dad at all. I’m bumbling through this worse than my deployment to Afghanistan. Seriously.

How can you be so fascinated with someone and at the same time so scared of them? What if she doesn’t like me? Or worse, what if she likes Carey better than me? And what’s she allowed to do? What isn’t she allowed to do? Can I be strict with her, or do I have to worry that she won’t love me if I am?

My pulse is speeding up. I can feel sweat forming on my upper lip.

God. She’s just a little kid, and you’re a fucking Marine, I tell myself. But the truth of the matter is, she’s my little kid. I don’t care what other people think about me, but I couldn’t stand it if Hazel didn’t like me.

“Draw tree,” she says and holds out a purple marker to me.

“Purple? Not green?” I ask.

She vehemently shakes her head. Okay then. Purple it is.

I’m not a great artist, but I think I can manage a tree. I end up drawing a somewhat rudimentary structure—a trunk consisting of two lines with a fluffy cloud for a crown.

“Draw dod.” She giggles.

I can’t quite understand her. “Draw what?”

She giggles some more. “Dod!” she repeats. “Woof! Woof!”

Damn girl, what’s next? The Sistine Chapel? I do my best, bandaged wrists and all, to draw a purple dog. It looks more like a pig, but she claps her hands delightedly.

“Horsey!”

I’ve got it bad. She could say, “Jump,” and I’d say, “How high?”

I draw a horse, in green this time, because apparently purple horses don’t exist, according to Hazel. I watch her, the whole time. Maybe that’s why my drawings are so poor. No, cut that. I’m no Da Vinci even when I’m not distracted. I see so much of Mac in her, but so much of myself, too. She really is the spitting image of me. My perfect little girl.

I can’t describe the way I feel about her. I’m so filled with happiness… I never imagined I’d have a daughter. With the woman of my dreams, no less. I cannot screw this up. I need to take things slow. I need to gain Mac’s trust so she doesn’t take Hazel away from me.

“Birdy!” Hazel cries next. I don’t know much about kids, but she’s articulating her words pretty clearly, well, anything but k sounds. You can usually tell what she’s trying to say. Except when she’s drawing, then she just babbles away, and I don’t understand a word. Maybe Mac can decipher it, but to me these are just sounds devoid of meaning.

I draw green birdies on the top part of the paper. Actually, they’re just Ms. But she’s delighted. When I’m done, she turns around and looks at me. She reaches up, and even though I don’t know what she wants, I move toward her. She sticks her little fingers through my beard. Judging by the sound of her cute giggle, she seems to like it.

“Ree?”

Oh my God! What does she want? Ree? What’s Ree? Has she said this before?

“What’s Ree?”

She points at the green scribble in the drawing she did for me earlier. “Ree.”

Ree? I’m pretty sure those scribbles were people. Ree? Car-ree? Yes, of course! She can’t pronounce his name yet.

“Carey will be back in a second,” I say quietly, jealousy eating me up inside. My daughter shouldn’t be asking for her uncle while she’s sitting in her daddy’s lap. I know I’m being utterly ridiculous, but still.

“Tay.”

I hope she means okay. Otherwise, I’m screwed. “Hazel…”

She gives me a curious look.

“What does Mommy call you?”

“Hunny.”

“Shall I call you honey, too?” I ask. She shrugs. “Then what should I call you?”

“Haze.”

I nod seriously. “What does uncle Carey call you?”

She looks at me with big eyes. I can tell she understood the question but doesn’t know the answer.

“Doesn’t he have a nickname for you?”

She nods. Suddenly, her eyes settle on a point across my shoulder, and she smiles.

“Yes, he does. Right, Hazeline?”

I turn around to see Carey, who quickly lowers his hands. Was he giving me bunny ears?

“Hazeline?” I repeat.

He laughs. “I come up with something different every week. Hazeline, Haze, Hazy, stinker…”

Her smile is so broad, her entire face is beaming. “Ree!”

He ruffles her hair.

“Daddy draw too!” she squeals, pushing the paper across the table as proof.

Carey gives it a critical look and points at the dog. “What’s that?”

“It’s a dog,” I say defensively.

Carey nods slowly. “I’m glad I asked. I thought it was a kangaroo.”

Hazel laughs uproariously. “No, dod!”

“I’d like to see you try to draw something for the first time in a hundred years,” I mumble.

Carey laughs and picks up a marker. “Want me to draw a unicorn?”

Hazel nods enthusiastically. And the bastard can actually draw a fucking unicorn! He’s such a pest!

“There you go, Hazeline. What should we call it?”

“Princess,” she proclaims.

Carey writes Princess next to the unicorn and pushes the paper back to Hazel. “There you go. A unicorn named Princess for my little princess.” If he started vomiting a rainbow I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Show-off!” I grumble.

He grins. “Hey, never be afraid to shine, right?”

Hazel lovingly looks at the unicorn. “Ree drew unicawn.”

“So? Any news?” I ask Carey.

“They won’t discharge you until after the observation period.” He gives me an angry look. I nod, because I know what he’s trying to say.

I run my hand across my face. “It was just despair.”

“Fuck, Hunter!” Carey hisses.

“Fut! Fut! Fut!”

“You always had me.”

“I know, bro. But…I couldn’t see the light anymore. Everything was black.”

He looks at me firmly. “Never do that again.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it! I will not allow you to put Mac and Hazel through that. If you are not a hundred percent sure that you’re going to spare them that, let them go.”

I look at the curly brown hair hanging over a sheet of paper.

“War changes people,” I say. “I’m not the same guy I used to be anymore.”

“You’re not supposed to be the same guy,” Carey says gently. “You just need to be the guy the two of them need.”

At that moment, Hazel turns toward us again, beaming. She squeezes me, and I wrap my arms around her like it’s a reflex, stroking her cheek.

“I can’t promise I’m going to spare them,” I say quietly, my eyes wandering back to Carey. “But I swear I’m going to try.”

He nods slowly. “That’s good enough for now.” He looks at Hazel, his serious face dissipating. “You hungry, kiddo?”

She shakes her head. “Tirsty.”

Carey gets a bottle of water and a mug from a bag I hadn’t even noticed and pours her some water. She grabs the mug with both hands and drinks greedily. Water runs down the corners of her mouth, dripping onto her shirt and my pants, but Carey doesn’t move to clean her up. It seems to be their way of raising her—giving her room to make mistakes and get dirty. God, I really need to talk to Mac. I know I don’t have a say in how she’s raised at this point, but I at least want to know how to act.

Hazel puts down the mug and rubs the wet spots on her shirt and my pants with her hand. She looks at me kind of shyly.

“It’s okay, Haze,” I say.

She smiles, and I may be repeating myself, but I have never seen anything more beautiful. She is just perfect.

“How was your therapy session?” Carey asks me.

“Man, I wish I didn’t need it. But it was all right, I guess.”

“Have you done any walking yet?”

“At the bar, yes. But I’ve been down much longer than I should have been.”

“If anybody can do it, it’s you, man.”

I cock my head. “It’s just that…” I sigh.

“What?” he asks.

“What am I going to do with my life now? I’ve only ever been a soldier. I’m useless.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, shaking his head. “I was going to save this for later, but…” He gets some papers out of his bag. “I’ve done some research for you. The navy would finance a law degree for you if you joined the J.A.G. Corps.”

He pushes a leaflet across the table. I knew J.A.G. was in charge of the Navy and the Marines, but I never considered it a career option before.

“You could stay with the Marines and keep serving your country. That’s what you want, right?”

I nod. It’s not such a bad idea, actually, now that I think about it. At least it’s worth thinking about.

“It doesn’t have to be law, either,” Carey says. “There are other subjects you can study. I just thought law might be your thing.”

“Thanks, man.” I stroke Hazel’s head. “For everything.”

He just nods.

At some point, they have to leave, and it’s hard for me to let them go. Hazel especially, but my brother, too. He hasn’t been part of my life for much too long. I’m such an idiot!

After they leave, I ask for writing supplies. I have no other way of communicating with Mac, so I have to write like it’s the nineteenth century. The nurse brings me paper and a dull pencil. Like I’d try to off myself with a pencil.

For a second, I don’t know what to write, but then words start pouring out of me.

I pause. Should I write that I feel the same way about her? That I don’t want her to disappear from my life now that she’s finally back? No. Take things slow, I remind myself. I’ll start with showing her my feelings for Hazel and take things slow with Mac. Because it’s true what Carey said. I’m not the same guy I was at eighteen. Not even the same guy I was at twenty-one. I’ve been deployed to Afghanistan twice since then, and that fucking country and its fucking war can force any man to his knees.

Clearing those thoughts from my head, I write on.

I hope so desperately that Mac will continue to let me see Hazel, but I think she will. She’s not a bad person. If she didn’t want me in her life, she may never have told me Hazel was mine, but she definitely wouldn’t have paraded her around in front of my nose only to snatch her away again. Not my Mac.

Of course, I know that as a biological father, I also have rights. But I can’t imagine suing my way into her life. I would never do that to Mac. Rubbing my eyes, I finish the letter.

I can’t wait for the next day to start. I fly through my physio and therapy sessions. Dr. Wilson says it was a joy to see me with Hazel, and that it’s remarkable to see such a strong bond between us already. She says that can only be because Hazel was told about me again and again. Maybe because she’s seen pictures of me, too.

I feel content. Mac wouldn’t have done all that if she didn’t want me in Hazel’s life. She wants me. Maybe just in my capacity as Hazel’s dad…but I hope it’s more than that.

And then it’s morning and Carey and Hazel are back. I melt the moment I see her smiling face.