Navy Rescue. Geri Krotow

destined to be more.

      Surprisingly, Gwen’s disappearance had taught him to be grateful for the entire time he’d known her—not only the good years of their marriage but the tough years, too. It had all brought him to where he was today, enjoying the career he’d dreamed of in his favorite place on earth, Whidbey Island.

      He couldn’t go back to regrets or what-ifs.

      To the reasons for a divorce that had become final five years ago, after nine years of marriage.

      Miles pulled back from Drew’s embrace but Ro stayed by his side, her expression hopeful as she kept glancing over at Miles as if for support.

      Please don’t bring up the possibility of reconciliation.

      “There’s a detail we still have to take care of, Drew.”

      “Yeah?”

      “She has to stay with you.”

      Drew pulled back and dropped his arms. He rubbed his face.

      “I’m willing to help her out, Ro,” he said after a moment, “but living with me? Not going to happen. She’d never agree to it. Besides, I’m sure Brenda will take her home before the week’s out.” Let her mother, Brenda, help her out for once.

      He could be her friend, but not in such close proximity. Not day after day, in a situation he might mistake for more than it was.

      They’d all thought she was dead.

      You knew she was still alive.

      “She’ll want to come here. Whidbey is home to her. And you know Brenda’s not who Gwen needs right now. She needs someone who’s had PTSD, who’s been through a war. Someone who understands what she’s got ahead of her.”

      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