Password. Right. This was going to be a bitch. I typed in his birthdate and the server spat it back at me. I tried my mom’s name. Declined. A little white box popped up in the center of the screen. “Would you like your hint?”

“Hell yes, I would,” I murmured, clicking on the “ok” button.

The page loaded, and the hint popped up.

Glowing dim as an ember

Things my heart used to know

Chills raced down my arms and legs, as though he was standing right behind me, singing to me again. “Daddy,” I whispered. I clicked on the sign-in again.

Password: OnceUponADecember

His e-mail opened and relief rushed through me, tingling every nerve in my body. I had more of him. The letter wasn’t the last piece anymore. These e-mails weren’t enough, but they would do. Here were his letters, his words. A primal need to claw through the screen gripped me, crying to bury myself in what was left of him, snuggle down among the typed words and find my father.

I looked through his inbox, only glancing on the unopened ones. I didn’t care what other people said, only Dad. There was Grams, Mom, Gus, April . . . me. I clicked on my last e-mail to him, a few days before they came to the door.

Hey, Daddy,

Everything’s great, stop worrying about me. I’m headed down to the Springs tomorrow to spend Christmas with Mom, April, and Gus. No worries, I remember where you hid Mom’s special present, and I won’t let her fall asleep before it’s Santa time. I really wish you could be here. It’s not the same without you.

I love you,

December

My last words to him had been of love and our family. I was good with that. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. He’d been concerned about me giving away all my dreams for Riley, especially the second year when I dropped my English/History double major pairing and picked up education instead.

But it’s not like I could tell him he’d been right.

I scanned his sent box, my breath catching. Josh Walker.

My finger clicked it open before my conscience could stop it.

Hey Josh,

I’m glad you got the files. I’m sorry I had to scan them in, but I know how fast you needed them, and I didn’t know how long they would take if I used snail mail. I’m glad you’re playing again; you’ve always been a sight out there on the ice. I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished, and you should be, too. Checking our return dates, I’ll be flirting with the timing, but I might be able to make it back to commission and pin you. I’m so honored that you asked, and I would like nothing more than to see a man like you become an officer. Oh, and thank you so much for uploading the video of the game. Gus is growing too damn fast.

VR,

Justin Howard

I sat in stunned silence. He hadn’t just known Josh, they’d been friends. I knew they’d chatted during hockey practices and such, but never imagined he’d corresponded with him. No wonder Josh had looked so shaken up at the funeral.

I glanced through the e-mail again, my eyes catching on the word “file.” What had Dad sent him from Afghanistan that he couldn’t get back here? I dropped my scruples—hell, I’d already checked them at the door—and opened Dad’s “sent” file, and filtered it to Josh’s e-mail.

Dozens of e-mails popped up, spanning . . . almost two years? They’d been writing each other for two years? The oldest one was simple, asking Josh to consider coaching Gus’s team, Dad saying how great it would be for his injury to get back on the ice when he was ready. Something dropped in my stomach and then clawed up my throat, leaving a sickly sweet taste in my mouth. There was more to this, something deeper.

My breath shuddered as I scanned the right-hand side, looking for the paperclip that signaled an e-mail attachment. There were more than a few, mostly clips of Gus playing hockey. Josh kept Dad connected in a way none of us could, through the sport he and Gus loved and shared. Gratitude overwhelmed me.

I opened the e-mail with the subject “found the records,” from this August, and clicked.

Hey Josh,

Here are the records I found in our system. Tell the Guard to get their act together and do a backup every once in a while, eh? Better yet, come active and forget about it. I’m thrilled to help get you back on a team where you belong. Things here are the same: long hours and tough calls. Do me a favor, run by the house and force June to let you cut the grass? That woman takes on too much. Ember’s back at school now with her jerk-faced boyfriend. You know, if you’d ever like to show up and steal her away for a bit, that’d be fine with me. Hint. Hint. But really, let me know what else you need, UCCS is lucky to have a player like you.

VR,

Justin Howard

He’d tried to set me up with Josh? He had to have been kidding. Dad loved Riley, didn’t he? Had he just faked it because he thought I was happy? I pushed the question aside and clicked on the document. Josh’s medical records popped onto the screen. It wasn’t his full records, just a collection of pages that began in early July two years ago.

Why would Josh ask my dad for his records if the Guard lost them?

I pushed back from my desk. There were too many questions, and I was done feeling confused and lost. I deserved answers.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I was walking for the door.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Sam laughed from the couch, lounged out in her pajamas.

My hair was pulled on top of my head in a messy knot, the result of no effort. I waved my hand to her and headed out the door in my jean shorts and layered ribbed tank. I didn’t bother with shoes. I told myself I didn’t care what he thought I looked like anyway as I knocked on his door.