LITMIR.BIZ

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in for the past three days, and let the thrill of being free wash over her. Her hospital bed was far more comfortable than the commercial plane seat she’d endured for the twenty-two hour flight back from the Philippines, and much cleaner than any of the night camps she’d made for herself during her six months on the run. Today was go-home day.

      Drew.

      The phone on her nightstand rang. The clamor startled her, and her muscles tensed painfully in her back, her legs.

      “Hello?”

      “Gwen, honey, it’s Ro.” Gwen felt a sense of warmth wash over her, and she couldn’t stop tears of relief from spilling down her cheeks. Her best friend from way back when they’d been midshipmen at the Naval Academy, Ro knew her as well as Drew once had.

      “I’d know your voice anywhere, sister. How are you?”

      Ro laughed. “How am I? More like how the hell did you do what you did? First, I’m jealous as hell that you’re getting all this attention for ditching and saving your crew. Now you come back alive, from conditions a lot of SEALs haven’t survived. You’re a hero, sweetie.”

      “Can you hear that flutter? It’s my BS flag. I’m waving it in your face.”

      They both laughed.

      “I’m glad to see you’re not letting any of it go to your head.”

      “Oh, I will, trust me. You owe me at least a month’s worth of almond lattes.”

      “Done.” Ro paused, the silence scaring Gwen as much as the ringing phone had.

      “What?”

      “Have you talked to Drew?”

      “Of course not. Why would I?” Gwen deliberately sounded obtuse. Ro had always held out hope that she and Drew would work things out. Especially since she herself was—

      “Wait, Ro. You’re married! I’m so sorry I missed it.”

      “You had other things to worry about, sweetie.” Ro paused again. “I missed you so much that day. It was so beautiful. I wish you could’ve seen it.”

      “Me, too.” It was hard to imagine Ro married; she’d been so gung-ho about her career and hadn’t wanted any distractions.

      Gwen heard sniffles. “Are you crying?” she asked. “Don’t cry, Ro. I’m fine. You’ll see me soon and I’ll prove it to you.”

      “I’ve missed you, Gwen. I can cry if I want.” Rustling tissue and a cough or two echoed over the phone. “Listen, honey, you know you were assumed— I mean, people thought you weren’t coming back?”

      “I’m aware I was presumed dead—or at least as close as you can get to it, yes.”

      “It was horrible. We were all sick about it. I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice, to know you made it back.”

      “I promise you I’m really here, Ro.”

      “You’re okay with staying at Drew’s?”

      “Hmm. I hear you had something to do with it.”

      “Sweetie, don’t be mad. I knew you wouldn’t want to go to your mom’s right away. You love Whidbey.”

      “True, but honestly, Ro, suggesting I live with Drew again?”

      “Miles and I were with him when he found out you’d ditched, and again when we found out you got out. It’s true, I suggested it to him.”

      “So I do have you to blame. I’ll bet he’s thrilled about me moving back in.”

      “He’s okay with it, Gwen. He still cares for you.”

      “And I care for him. We’ll always be friends.”

      She wasn’t going to rehash her divorce history with her best friend. Not today.

      Besides, she was so tired, exhausted, from talking.

      “I have to hang up, Ro. When will I see you?”

      “Later today. I’m sending a suitcase of clothes for you with the commodore’s group. They’ll be there soon. I’ll see you when you land, okay?”

      “I can’t wait. Thanks for getting me some real clothes, Ro.”

      “Sure thing. See you. Love you.”

      “Love you, too.”

      Gwen hung up the phone and fought the urge to throw herself on the bed and have a long cry. But if she let one tear fall, there’d be so many more behind it she’d never get out of here, never get home. Ro’s voice, so full of unabashed love, threatened to burst her thin layer of composure.

      She wanted to get home, to sleep in her own bed.

      Shivers of reality jumped on her skin. She didn’t have a home to go to. Who knew where her bed was if the apartment had been sublet?

      How had going through hell led to more torment? Being in close quarters with Drew would be nothing less than emotional torture. They hadn’t lived together in too long. Awkward didn’t begin to describe it.

      Why did Drew have to be such a good guy, Mr. Do The Right Thing? For once, having him say “no” would have been a blessing for both of them.

      She felt unease and even guilt at her lack of appreciation. Blaming Drew for being a good person wasn’t going to get her very far.

      He’d been the last person she’d talked to before she left on deployment.

      She’d gone on a mission that had been moved up by a few weeks. The terrorist strongholds in the southern Philippine Islands had to be destroyed before they reached a point of serious threat to the nearby nations, as well as U.S. interests in the area.

      Drew had come to the base, walked into the hangar and said goodbye to her. Wished her the best. They’d exchanged a friendly hug—they were friends, after all. She willed her mind not to go back to the beginning of her department-head tour, nearly six years ago. To the reason she and Drew had decided to end their nine-year marriage—the discovery that the spark, the romantic love, had died.

      The timing had been bad. She was to assume command when she returned from deployment and the squadron spouses were all acquainted with Drew—he’d played the perfect navy spouse. He brought the right mix of concern for each person, the squadron’s mission and the Oak Harbor community at large. His renowned sense of humor combined with his clean-cut good looks in a charming package. Gwen had been grateful to him, until that charm proved irresistible to one of her officers. An officer she’d pulled out of her ditched P-3.

      Lizzie.

      Don’t. Go. There.

      It could’ve been any other woman who’d turned out to be too interested in her husband. Their marriage had been a mess all on its own by then. She and Drew hadn’t had a regular sex life in months, and when they did it’d become cursory, a matter of doing the familiar, getting the known-and-needed release. She slowly stood up from the hospital bed and let her legs bear her weight. Thinking about Drew made everything hurt all over again.

      Gwen didn’t fight the shame. No marriage fell apart due to one person. It always took two, and theirs had been no exception.

      Her hands were still shaky. Lucas had told her it would take time for her system to settle back into a routine of regular meals, a safe place to rest, no constant need for vigilance.

      Her body didn’t realize that the threat she perceived today wasn’t from the jungle or a terrorist insurgent. It was from her fear of not getting her baby back, the child she’d saved in the jungle. It was from the fear of having to finally face her grief over her failed marriage. She had to go and live with her ex-husband. What wasn’t there to be afraid of?

      Their marriage had been good once. Drew had been her safe harbor, giving her the chance to grow—as a woman,

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