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Leave it to Ro to pull out the big guns.
“I went through my issues a decade ago, Ro.” Miles was watching him with wary alertness.
“Ro and I just finished going through our ‘issues.’ None of us will forget the hell it can be once we’re back. You’ll be able to support Gwen like no one else can. You’ve known her almost as long as Ro has.” Miles didn’t add the “you’ve been married to her” part. He didn’t have to.
No. Freaking. Way.
Gwen in his house? Living under the same roof again?
No.
“You’re still forgetting that Gwen has to agree to this.”
“Her apartment’s been rented out. You have all her stuff in your garage from a month after she went missing. It’ll take at least two weeks before she’s steady enough to go looking for a place of her own.” Miles spoke reasonably enough.
“I’ll get her household goods delivered to a new apartment. Hell, I’ll find an apartment for her, if that’s what it takes.”
Ro and Miles stared at him. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I realize you two would love nothing more than for me and Gwen to suddenly decide we made a mistake and get back together. But it’s not going to happen, and we all know it. Why make her suffer right from the get-go? She needs to get herself squared away without being around me.” And he didn’t need the reminders of what had gone wrong, what they’d lost when they’d allowed themselves to drift apart.
Ro leaned over the desk. “You’re all she’s got, Drew. Her mother and stepdad are not who she’d pick to recuperate around. You know that as well as I. She could come stay with us, but...”
“You’re still newlyweds. No way.”
Ro nodded. “Right, and as much as we don’t care about that, Gwen would.”
“Speak for yourself.” Miles smiled at Ro.
A sense of anticipation awakened in Drew. To have Gwen home, to be able to exchange simple small talk while she healed, seemed innocent enough. But it wasn’t good in the long run. For either of them.
Still, his gut instinct to take care of her was hard to ignore.
“Drew, you’re a physical therapist. You know that clients have to start from a baseline, work on the smaller, less challenging exercises first. Only after their strength comes back can they do the hard stuff. Like when you helped me get my hips and lower back straight after my fall.” Miles gestured at his prosthetic leg. He’d survived a tough rehabilitation with the navy. He’d taken a fall several months back and had come to Drew’s clinic for physical therapy.
Drew glared at him. “Being patronizing isn’t your forte, pal. Your back and sacrum were easy fixes—you were already in great shape. Gwen and I haven’t seen each other in over six months.” And hadn’t spoken, or touched or talked like a real couple in five years.
They were friends without benefits.
“This is a lot to put on you, Drew, but imagine what Gwen’s going through. For her to come back to anyplace but a house she’s familiar with is too much right now. She needs the easier road.”
“I don’t disagree with that, Ro, and you can’t disagree with the fact that there aren’t a lot of happy memories for Gwen in my house.” It’d taken him years to call it my house and not our.
“Think about the comfort the pets will give her, Drew. You have to know it just about killed her to leave Rosie and Nappie.” Ro’s persistent tone grated. This was the problem with having friends who’d known you forever. They called you on your crap.
What they’re saying is true.
After Gwen moved out, she’d asked to come by when he wasn’t around. Said she needed to spend time with their parrot and their dog, so the pets wouldn’t be traumatized by the divorce. It had evolved into a joint pet-sharing venture that rivaled the joint-custody agreements divorced parents arranged. He didn’t know how much Ro knew about that, and wasn’t going to volunteer it.
“Okay, fine—she needs a place, and the house is probably the best option for her. She can be with the pets. I’ll take a room in town.” Hell, he could camp out in his office.
Miles shook his head as he put a calming hand on Ro’s shoulder. “That won’t work, either, Drew. She has to be with someone, another adult, in the house. Hell, Drew, you know what coming home from war’s like. The nightmares, the crazy crap right afterward. No one should have to do that alone.”
Miles was right. He watched Ro slip a protective arm around Miles’s waist. Both Miles and Ro had gone through their post-war transitions as single sailors, living on their own. They’d found each other in the midst of it.
He couldn’t let Gwen suffer on her own, no matter how difficult the living arrangement was for either of them. He stared down at his closed laptop, unable to look at the happy newlyweds while contemplating the antithesis of a honeymoon with his ex-wife.
His injured, battle-fatigued ex-wife.
Shit.
He looked up at his closest friends.
“When did you say she’d be back on the island?”
* * *
DREW SHOVED THE glass-paned door wide open and strode into the parking lot behind his practice. The blustery March day was no match for the heat of his blood as it pumped through his veins with an intensity he hadn’t experienced since—
Since the navy told him Gwen was dead.
He ran both hands over his head, willing the sharp, cold bite of the March air to prove he wasn’t dreaming.
Gwen was alive.
Maybe there was a chance. Maybe the reason neither of them had connected with anyone else yet was— No, never.
She was still Gwen.
They’d never forgiven themselves for ending their marriage. They’d been too young to understand that sometimes it was okay to let a relationship go before it hurt too much.
Gwen hadn’t made any attempt to say goodbye before she left on deployment. He didn’t know what had possessed him to drive to the hangar to see her off that last day. He was sure she’d chalked it up to pity, as she always did whenever he expressed compassion for her.
He’d said he was seeing her off like any other friend, and thanked her for her service. Gave her a friendly hug.
What had he been trying to prove? That he could touch her without wanting to make love to her again?
Her reaction had been cool, professional. The shell she’d grown over the past several years had hardened to an impregnable wall that didn’t let anyone in.
Especially him.
Living through what, by all accounts, had been hell on earth—captured by insurgents, escaping, being on the run through the Philippine jungle—must have cracked that wall in more than one place.
Didn’t Ro say she’d saved a baby?
And if there was a chance for him to get inside Gwen’s heart again, did he really want to?
He gazed at the water and shook his head.
Surviving the worst nightmare of her life wouldn’t change Gwen’s mind about their divorce, and it hadn’t changed his. No matter what the circumstance, they’d always end up back where they’d stalled—neither willing to compromise for the relationship.
He’d worked hard to start a life without her, and she’d never sacrifice her career for a marriage.
Thoughts of what might have happened to her ripped at the shock he’d been in since he ran out of the building. If she’d been raped...
“Damn it all to hell!” He yelled at the parking lot, to the soccer fields and playgrounds that edged the perimeter of the island’s shore, to the calm water of Puget Sound.
A startled seagull flapped off the waste bin Drew’s practice shared with a hair salon. He registered the bird’s presence but didn’t try to shield himself from any potential droppings.
He dug his numbed fingers into his pockets and pulled out his car keys. He’d left everything except his keys and his wallet in the office. He’d been too crazed to grab his jacket.
Didn’t matter. The car had a heater and he had to get out of here.
* * *
LOST IN THOUGHTS of Gwen’s return, Drew drove up to the Koffee Hut. Drive-through-only specialty coffee shops were a common feature in the Pacific Northwest, and Whidbey was no exception. Only after he’d shifted the car into park next to the trailer window did he realize his mistake.
“Drew! What a nice surprise. In the middle of the day, too.” Opal smiled at him from the serving window of her business. She’d set it up after leaving his employ; she’d been one of his assistants for the first two years he’d had the PT clinic, during which she’d earned a part-time business degree at the community college.
“Yeah, well, I needed a break. I’ll have the usual.”
“A large cup of drip, coming right up.” Worry lines appeared between her perfectly shaped brows. With stunning blond curls and bright blue eyes, Opal looked like a cherub in an Italian painting. He watched as she plucked a cup from the tall stack and poured the coffee. Her expression reflected friendly concern.
“What’s going on, Drew?”
“Nothing much.” He wasn’t going to confide in Opal. It’d been hard enough convincing her that he didn’t want to pursue a relationship with her. He refused to encourage her or lead her on.
The entire time she’d worked for him she’d been a worthy employee, but he never crossed the line and dated people he paid. Good thing, since she’d bought the house next to his right after he and Gwen split. It might have been a real-estate coincidence, but it was still awkward in those first few months after his divorce, when she’d started her new business. She’d repeatedly emphasized that she didn’t work for him anymore. If he’d dated her, it would have been a disaster when they broke up.
Because they would have. Long-term relationships weren’t on his agenda.
One had been enough for him.
Opal’s feelings had been hurt that he wouldn’t even consider a date with her. They were both single, ran their own businesses, loved the Pacific Northwest.
After several attempts to have Drew over for dinner, Opal had accepted their “friends only” status.
Maybe he had been crazy to turn her down. If he was involved with someone else, he wouldn’t be a safe harbor for Gwen. He wouldn’t feel as if he was staring down the wrong end of a weapon.
“You don’t look your usual chipper self.” She handed him the hot cup. As he reached to take it, she put a hand on his wrist.
“Drew, we’re friends. How many times have I told you I don’t take it personally that we didn’t work out? It’s okay if you need an ear.” Didn’t work out? They’d never been more than friends.
Neither had he and Serena, who still worked for him so was technically off-limits. Serena was another available woman who, on paper, appeared to be a good fit for him.
Drew fought to keep a scowl off his face.
He’d had every opportunity to date other women and like a fool he hadn’t. If he had, Gwen’s return wouldn’t be shaking him up so much.
He gently removed her hand from his arm and took his coffee, leaving the payment on the small Formica counter.
“I appreciate your concern, Opal. I’m just not ready to talk about it.”
Opal’s kind smile was back. “I totally understand. Let me know if you want me to bring over some dinner for you tonight.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Did a big load of grocery shopping yesterday.” He was lying and prayed she hadn’t checked his refrigerator the last time she’d popped in uninvited to leave him muffins or a casserole.
He really needed to start locking the side deck door.
Until now he hadn’t minded her unannounced drop-ins, since she’d accepted that they’d never be more than friends. Now that Gwen was going to be staying with him, he’d have to convince Opal to stop her visits.
Or keep his damned door locked.
* * *
DREW DROVE TO the other side of the island with his coffee in one hand, the other on the steering wheel. It used to be a favorite haunt of his during the dark days of his divorce from Gwen.
Gwen.
He gulped too much of the hot coffee, which burned his throat, but that served as a way to keep him grounded. God knew he needed something to keep him focused on reality. It’d be too easy, too natural, to think that he and Gwen were going to find a way to reconcile.
Never. You can’t reconcile what isn’t there. When there’s nothing to work with.
They had nothing left of what had been their marriage. Just a run-of-the-mill friendship.
Drew didn’t consider himself a stupid man. But maybe he’d screwed up by not forcing himself to date more regularly. When the divorce became final, he swore he’d never settle down again. Plus, he’d almost no time to date. He’d blamed it on the stress of his expanding practice, the stress of the adjustment.
You know why you haven’t looked at another woman.
He crushed the paper cup, scalding his hand and spilling the coffee all over the steering wheel and his lap.
“Dammit!”
Drew unzipped his gym bag, which sat on his passenger seat. His smelly workout T-shirt soaked up most of the liquid. He’d finished more than half the cup, so the damage wasn’t as bad as it might have been.
He looked at his pants and frowned. The brown stain spread down his zipper, onto his right leg.
If the mere thought of Gwen coming back into his home unnerved him this much, how was he going to stay steady enough to help her while she suffered through her reentry?
Frustration was already a constant companion; with Gwen under the same roof it would be that much worse.
Drew threw the soaked shirt on the passenger-seat floor and leaned back, forcing himself to focus on the scenery.
The ebb and flow of the waves on West Beach were in stark contrast to the flat Puget Sound water he saw out of his office windows every day. The energy in each white-capped wave soaked up his anxiety, bit by bit.
He’d come here every single day after he and Gwen had agreed to separate with the intent to divorce. She’d never asked where he was going and he’d never volunteered it, even when he knew she probably thought he was meeting friends at a bar.
The first two months after she’d ditched her plane in the South Pacific, he’d been out here every chance he got. He’d never missed an appointment that first week she was MIA, but Serena and the rest of the staff had known his mind was elsewhere. Wondering what kind of torture Gwen was enduring. The local and eventually national news media reported the Pentagon’s assessment that she’d been lost at sea.
