The War Correspondent's Homecoming

Summary

In my third year working overseas as a war correspondent, a grenade blast left me wounded and stripped me of my memories.

The PTSD that followed was severe enough to keep me in a psychiatric hospital for two years.

It wasn't until two months ago that I finally remembered who I was.

The day I came home, my best friend and my husband met me at the airport, both of them crying harder than I was.

Russell Ellison's eyes were red-rimmed, but his voice was as gentle as ever.

"The new place is all set up. Move in for now. I'll come keep you company after work."