Navy Wife. Debbie Macomber

man. Maybe because he was really talking to her, sharing a small part of himself with her. There was no pretense between them tonight. Somehow Lindy realized how rare it was for Rush to expose this amiable, sensitive part of himself, to let down his guard and throw caution to the wind. She felt as though she’d been granted a rare gift, one that she would look back on years from now and treasure.

      They left the pier a few minutes later, discarded their Styrofoam cups and continued strolling down the busy sidewalk until they reached Waterfront Park. Lindy braced her foot against the bottom stair, which led to an observation deck and a museum on the second level.

      “It’s a beautiful night,” Rush commented, staring into the sky.

      Lindy had the feeling he was about to suggest they head back to the apartment. She didn’t want the evening to end. Everything was too perfect for them to leave so soon.

      “Come on. I’ll race you up the stairs,” she called, letting the breeze carry her challenge. Not waiting to see if he was going to follow her, she grabbed for the railing and hurled herself up the concrete steps, taking two at a time.

      The wind, which had recently picked up, whipped her hair from her face as she made a mad dash up the stairway, doing her best to swallow her laughter.

      “Lindy.”

      Rush’s exasperated voice was directly behind her, and not wishing to be outdistanced, she lurched forward.

      He beat her easily and was waiting for her, blocking her way when she breathlessly reached the top.

      “You little fool.”

      Still panting and laughing, she tried to leap around him but almost lost her balance. A look of horror crowded his face as he reached out to grab her, but Lindy quickly darted in the opposite direction. Rush tried to block her there, as well, and she shrieked with the sheer joy of the moment and scooted sideways from him.

      “Lindy, stop.”

      She dodged to her left and when he followed her, she darted to her right, then triumphantly stumbled past him, running to the railing, her eyes wild with joy.

      “I won,” she declared triumphantly, swinging around to face him.

      Rush collapsed on the park bench, barely winded. “You cheated.”

      “Oh, honestly. Can’t you admit it when a woman outsmarts you?”

      “I’d admit it if it was true.”

      “My foot, you would.” Lindy slumped down on the bench beside him, her breath coming in uneven, shallow gasps. Good Lord, she was out of shape. She let her head fall back so her hair rushed away from her face, granting her a feeling of complete freedom.

      Lindy exhaled, dragging the oxygen through her lungs. “Oh, Paul, I can’t remember a night when I’ve had more fun.” The instant the name slipped through her lips, Lindy tensed. “I meant…Rush.”

      The excitement that had galloped through her blood just seconds before felt like a deadweight pressing against her chest. For one crazy moment she was paralyzed. She had trouble breathing, trouble moving, trouble thinking. Scalding tears burned in her eyes, and the huge lump in her throat felt as if it were monumental.

      Moisture rolled down the side of her face, burning her skin like acid, and she sucked in a trembling sob.

      “Lindy, are you all right?”

      Rush brushed away a tear and his finger felt incredibly warm against her icy cold cheek.

      “Something must have gotten into my eye,” she lied, turning away so he wouldn’t be able to see the extent of her emotion.

      “Here.”

      He pressed a white handkerchief into her numb fingers, and she made a quick job of wiping her face dry. “I think we should be heading back. Don’t you?”

      “Anything you say.”

      He sounded so concerned when it was the last thing she wanted. Suddenly Rush was the last person in the world she yearned to be with. Escape seemed of paramount importance. Somehow she found her way to her feet, although the cement seemed to buckle beneath her shoes. With some effort she managed to keep her balance and rush away from the bench.

      It would have been too much to hope that Rush would let her go. But oddly enough he seemed to appreciate her mood, remaining silent as he matched his quick steps to hers. Side by side they started up the hill toward First Avenue.

      The climb was steep and Lindy was winded by the time they’d gone only a few blocks.

      “I’ll get a taxi,” Rush said.

      “No. Don’t, please.” She wanted to walk—needed to wear herself out physically so she could collapse in her bed exhausted. It was the only way she could guarantee she would sleep. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, climbing up one street and then the next one, seemed to help her contain her emotions.

      By the time they reached the apartment building, Lindy’s lungs ached and her calf muscles violently protested the strenuous exercise. She waited impatiently while Rush unlocked the front door.

      He held it open for her, and in that moment she detested him for the small display of manners. Paul had impeccable manners and look what he’d done to her. Look what he’d reduced her to.

      Without even glancing in Rush’s direction she paused just inside the living room and said, her voice weak and faltering, “Thank you for dinner.”

      He didn’t answer her for what seemed an eternity, and she had the impression he was willing her to turn around and face him. But she knew she couldn’t without dissolving into wretched emotion.

      “Anytime, Lindy.” His words were low and as smooth as velvet.

      “Good night.” The sooner she got away from Rush the better.

      “’Night.” Again his voice was so gentle, so tender.

      She made it all the way to the bathroom door before her gaze blurred so badly with tears that she had to stop and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Drawing in several steadying breaths between clenched teeth gave her some relief. She’d be damned before she’d cry over Paul Abrams.

      Damned. Damned. Damned.

      Without being aware of how it happened, Lindy found that she had stopped and braced a shoulder against the wall, using it to keep her upright, needing its support. She pinched her nose with her thumb and index fingers, willing back the release of torrential tears.

      “Lindy, you need to cry.”

      The words seemed to come from a far distance, echoing around her in a canyon of despair. She dropped her hand and looked up to find Rush standing beside her.

      “No,” she said forcefully. “I won’t.”

      “Don’t let him do this to you.”

      She tried to push Rush away, but her effort was puny and weak. “You don’t know anything,” she cried. “How could you?”

      “I know what it is to hurt.”

      “Not like this.” No one could ever hurt this much. No one.

      “Listen to me,” he said, and his hands gripped her shoulders. But even his fingers were gentle when she wanted them to be hard and punishing. “Cry. Let it out before the grief strangles you.”

      “No.” Still she resisted, wildly shaking her head. “No. I hate him. I hate him.”

      “I know, honey. I know.”

      The dam broke then, and the tears that had been pent up inside her soul, shoved down and ignored for so long, bled from her eyes. A low, mewing sound slid from the back of her throat, nearly choking her. Sobs overtook her, huge, oxygen-robbing sobs that shook her shoulders and made her breast heave.

      Rush didn’t try to hold her and