In the past hour he'd made strides in regaining control. She was staying. The boys would level out. And somehow that still didn't unkink the knot in his neck that had started right about the minute she'd turned those deep-green eyes his way for the first time in eleven years.
No risk of seeing her eyes now. She lay sleeping on the bottom bunk, her back to him, her body curved around Austin. Her hair tangled around the child and over the edge of the bed. The little guy snoozed on with his knees tucked to his chest, his blanket gripped in a white-knuckled fist.
Leaning, Daniel captured a lock of her hair and tested the silky texture between two fingers. He'd done the right thing asking her to stay. The boys had already lost their parents. They needed a familiar person to ease them through the transition.
On the top bunk, Trey rolled and shifted until he settled onto his back. All three, dead to the world.
Thank God they weren't dead period, only exhausted from the long hours and ordeal. A few more minutes of staring at them and he would have his balance back.
A shadow slid through the doorway. Daniel glanced up to find Tag waiting silently.
The Senior Master Sergeant nodded toward the bunks. "I'll watch over them if you need to catch some sleep."
"I'm set until we land. No worries."
Tag studied him silently, gaze falling to the lock of hair still twined around Daniel's fingers.
Well, hell.
Daniel dropped the strand. A lone determined hair clung to the wrist of his flight suit like before. He didn't waste energy refuting Tag's all-knowing expression. Why bother when he actually appreciated the older man's no-bull approach to life? The man appreciated facts and the uncomplicated.
Years of working top-secret test projects at Edwards AFB in California had honed Daniel's instincts. He didn't think of those instincts as anything of a woo-hoo nature. Rather, he made observations and processed them quickly. Efficiently. Two weeks into his transfer to Charleston AFB in South Carolina, Daniel had realized Tag was a troop to trust.
Even with something as important as Mary Elise.
"You know, Tag, I believe I'll take you up on that offer in another half hour." Daniel flicked aside the hair on his wrist. "I don't need sleep, but I have to head back up front soon and I'd rather not wake Mary Elise. So, yeah, I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on them in case one of the boys rouses before her."
Tag lumbered in through the door, curtain closing behind him, and lowered himself into the other seat. "Small world, her showing up on this flight."
And an even smaller world on base. No doubt, gossip would make the rounds three times over by the next nightfall. Not from Tag, but Bo would have a helluva time sharing the inside scoop at the club.
"Family connection. We knew each other a long time ago." Daniel shot him a half smile. "That 'Danny' of hers probably gave us away."
"Ah, so you're old friends."
Daniel hesitated a second too long.
Tag's quirked brow shot up toward the older man's salt-and-pepper hairline.
Finally. Daniel settled for, "We have … history."
Tag nodded again. Waited. Studied the sleeping trio. Finally shifted his attention back to Daniel. "Is the older kid yours?"
The notion blazed across Daniel's mind in a flash of horror. Had she faked a miscarriage? He'd never seen Trey's mother pregnant. He could imagine selfless Mary Elise cutting him free so he could complete his senior year at the Academy.
Simple math severed the irrational thought. Trey was over a year too young. "No. Trey's not mine." Daniel's head thunked back against the bulkhead. Damn it, why couldn't Tag have shown up fifteen minutes later once the world had stopped rocking under his boots? "Ours would have been ten now."
Hell, he hadn't told anyone about that time with Mary Elise. Something about the way Tag didn't push made it easier to talk during a day when the past crowded his brain.>Mary Elise straightened in her seat. Daniel looked deeper into those lush green eyes that had once been so expressive and wondered when she'd learned to close herself off.
"I'll make a list." Her cool efficiency almost covered her underlying edginess. Almost. "Starting with Austin's EpiPen."
"Eppie what?"
"Epinephrine injection pen. Medicine in case he accidentally eats something with nuts or peanut oil or—"
"Stop." He made a giant T with his hands. "Time out. You can compile lists all day long and it won't change the fact that I have no experience with kids. I need help settling the boys."
She pleated her pants between fidgety fingers. "You haven't made any accommodations for them?"