now that he could hear her voice, smell the light citrus of her shampoo. He wrapped one palm around the other fist, massaging the tension in his hands. “For a time that’s what I wanted, too.”
“I didn’t say I wanted you to be dead.” She pushed loose strands of her golden hair behind her ears. “I heard the news from your dad. His face...” She gazed up at the slanted tin-roof ceiling. “He’s the one who told me you’d died.”
“You saw my dad?” He swallowed the swell of grief that came with every thought of his father.
“Sure.” She nodded. “We spoke frequently after the interrupted wedding. He apologized to me that it didn’t go as scheduled.” She leaned back against the big sink and propped one foot on the other.
The pose transported him back to the days when she’d stand just that way, waiting for the first cup of coffee to kick her into gear in the morning. He’d counted on a lifetime of moments like this one, but fate had dealt him a different hand.
“And I saw him again about two months after that,” she added.
Two months. It still bothered him the way the army had handled his capture. “They didn’t waste any time pronouncing me dead.”
“They being the army, I assume?”
He nodded.
“Are you surprised?”
“Not really.” What surprised him was how much he struggled not to touch her. He wanted a rewind button, a way to go back and say no to that cursed assignment, no matter the consequences. “That kind of risk, the emergency operation, went with the job.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Past tense?”
“Yes.” He looked away from the softer sympathy in her eyes.
“But they still tapped you to come find me.”
“Not in a military capacity. The army decided I wasn’t fit for duty anymore.”
“What the hell?” Her eyes raked him from head to toe. “Who made that decision?”
“Addi, the details aren’t relevant right now.”
“Of course they are,” she insisted. “If you’re not fit for service, why would this Casey person call you?”
“My kind of luck. The sooner I get you to him, the sooner we can get back to our lives.” Separate lives, if that was what she wanted.
“You seem eager,” she said. She came over and took the chair across from his at the table. “What kind of life do you have to get back to?”
Not the kind he wanted, that was for damn sure. In the weak light he caught another glimpse of the thin gold chain she wore, but whatever charms were on it were hidden by the T-shirt. Early in their relationship, he’d given her a heart charm inscribed with their initials and the date they’d met. He was a sap for hoping she still wore it.
“Drew?”
He didn’t want to talk about himself. His life was vacant, nothing but loss and heartache. Hers mattered more. “What kind of life did you leave?”
Her lip curled. “I left an illusion,” she said. “And I won’t let myself fall into the same trap again.”
What the hell did that mean? “You can’t stay out here forever.”
“I could,” she argued. “But I don’t need forever. And I sure don’t need the certain failure of federal protection if they can’t keep a traitor behind bars.”
“All right. What’s the plan?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“I’m making it my concern.”
She laughed, a bitter edge in the soft sound, as she propped her foot on the seat of the chair. He watched her run her fingertips over a small scar near her kneecap.
The blast of worry over an obvious sign of surgery was just one more irrational reaction added to the rest, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking her what had happened.
“Nothing major. I tweaked it on a ski trip in Tahoe.”
“When?”
“A couple years ago.”
He should’ve been there. For everything. “I didn’t know you liked to ski.”
“Neither did I. It was a girls’ weekend kind of thing.”
Why did that flood him with so much relief? “I was in the middle of a rec league basketball game when
“I didn’t say I wanted you to be dead.” She pushed loose strands of her golden hair behind her ears. “I heard the news from your dad. His face...” She gazed up at the slanted tin-roof ceiling. “He’s the one who told me you’d died.”
“You saw my dad?” He swallowed the swell of grief that came with every thought of his father.
“Sure.” She nodded. “We spoke frequently after the interrupted wedding. He apologized to me that it didn’t go as scheduled.” She leaned back against the big sink and propped one foot on the other.
The pose transported him back to the days when she’d stand just that way, waiting for the first cup of coffee to kick her into gear in the morning. He’d counted on a lifetime of moments like this one, but fate had dealt him a different hand.
“And I saw him again about two months after that,” she added.
Two months. It still bothered him the way the army had handled his capture. “They didn’t waste any time pronouncing me dead.”
“They being the army, I assume?”
He nodded.
“Are you surprised?”
“Not really.” What surprised him was how much he struggled not to touch her. He wanted a rewind button, a way to go back and say no to that cursed assignment, no matter the consequences. “That kind of risk, the emergency operation, went with the job.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Past tense?”
“Yes.” He looked away from the softer sympathy in her eyes.
“But they still tapped you to come find me.”
“Not in a military capacity. The army decided I wasn’t fit for duty anymore.”
“What the hell?” Her eyes raked him from head to toe. “Who made that decision?”
“Addi, the details aren’t relevant right now.”
“Of course they are,” she insisted. “If you’re not fit for service, why would this Casey person call you?”
“My kind of luck. The sooner I get you to him, the sooner we can get back to our lives.” Separate lives, if that was what she wanted.
“You seem eager,” she said. She came over and took the chair across from his at the table. “What kind of life do you have to get back to?”
Not the kind he wanted, that was for damn sure. In the weak light he caught another glimpse of the thin gold chain she wore, but whatever charms were on it were hidden by the T-shirt. Early in their relationship, he’d given her a heart charm inscribed with their initials and the date they’d met. He was a sap for hoping she still wore it.
“Drew?”
He didn’t want to talk about himself. His life was vacant, nothing but loss and heartache. Hers mattered more. “What kind of life did you leave?”
Her lip curled. “I left an illusion,” she said. “And I won’t let myself fall into the same trap again.”
What the hell did that mean? “You can’t stay out here forever.”
“I could,” she argued. “But I don’t need forever. And I sure don’t need the certain failure of federal protection if they can’t keep a traitor behind bars.”
“All right. What’s the plan?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“I’m making it my concern.”
She laughed, a bitter edge in the soft sound, as she propped her foot on the seat of the chair. He watched her run her fingertips over a small scar near her kneecap.
The blast of worry over an obvious sign of surgery was just one more irrational reaction added to the rest, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking her what had happened.
“Nothing major. I tweaked it on a ski trip in Tahoe.”
“When?”
“A couple years ago.”
He should’ve been there. For everything. “I didn’t know you liked to ski.”
“Neither did I. It was a girls’ weekend kind of thing.”
Why did that flood him with so much relief? “I was in the middle of a rec league basketball game when
Similar Books
