Major John Egan lay sprawled on the small, uncomfortable army-issue bed inside the cramped quonset hut that served as the barracks. Around him, the barracks buzzed with the typical hum of activity—soldiers walking briskly back and forth from their bunks, a group huddled over a board game... Despite the noise, sleep eluded John. He sighed, his gaze wandering across the room until it landed on a young woman hesitantly making her way through the barracks.

She stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of uniforms—slender, barely out of girlhood, with a nervous energy that made her clutch tightly at a brown paper bag in her hands.

John's curiosity piqued as he studied her, noticing the apprehension in her eyes and the way her gaze darted around, trying to avoid the stares of the soldiers. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen, her youthful face betraying her inexperience with the harshness of the world around her. He found himself momentarily lost in thought, surprised at the stark contrast between her innocence and his own twenty-seven years, which felt far more weighted than they should.

Before he could ponder further, Curt entered the barracks, one of the younger soldiers. He spotted the girl immediately and began making his way over to her. Recognition flickered in John's mind as he remembered something Curt had mentioned in passing: he had a sister.

As Curt guided the young woman though the barracks, John sat up, his curiosity growing. When Curt finally reached him, he gestured toward John. "And here's one of our best, Major John Egan."

The girl blushed a deep shade of red, her shyness evident as she glanced up at John. Her gaze lingered for a moment, taking in the sight of him—his broad shoulders, the strong lines of his jaw, the curls that refused to behave, freckles dotted his sun-kissed face, and those striking blue eyes.

John offered her a gentle smile. "You must be Curt's sister," he said. "It's not every day we get in this part of camp, especially someone as brave as you."