The crisp autumn breeze in Virginia carried the smell of burnt leaves as Staff Sergeant Daniel Hayes finally stepped off the bus.
His once-bright uniform was now faded, his boots scuffed from the sands of Afghanistan. After nearly two years away, he had counted every day until he could return to his family. But when he arrived at their small home on Oakwood Street, the sight that met him wasn’t the warm welcome he’d dreamed of. It was something that made his chest tighten.
The yard was overgrown, the mailbox stuffed with yellowed papers. On the porch sat his nine-year-old daughter, Emily, clutching her four-year-old brother, Joshua. In front of them stood their German Shepherd, Max, hackles raised as though guarding them.
“Daddy?” Emily’s voice trembled as she ran forward, tears streaking her dusty cheeks. Joshua followed, throwing himself into Daniel’s arms. Daniel dropped his duffel bag and held them both close, but his eyes searched behind them for his wife, Rachel.
