She shook her head. The past two years had taught her a lot about her own strength. She could and would stand her ground on what mattered. “This is your home, Win. Where else would you stay?”
“The barracks.”
“Why?”
He stared at her—it wasn’t normal, those looks. There was nothing for her to read in his eyes.
He’s changed. Emotionally.
Chaplain Blaine had left her card. Emily would call her as soon as she could. The chaplain and the others had assured her that Winston was not a danger to himself or others. To the contrary, he’d been open and honest about all that was going on with him. They’d needed her to understand that life’s experiences changed people.
“I said I didn’t intend to stay here tonight—that wasn’t my plan when I first appeared at the door. I have since come to the conclusion that it would be best if I did. Stay, that is. With your permission. However, if my being here makes you uncomfortable, in any way, I am fine to drive myself back to San Diego and stay in the barracks.”
Hands on her hips, she stepped closer to him. “Let’s get one thing clear, Winston Dane Hannigan. You are my husband. For better or worse. Until I no longer have breath in my body. This is our home, not just mine. You own it equally, and are equally responsible for it. I kept it running for us. I now expect you to take over your part. If, however, you don’t want to be around me, then we’ll work out a way to coexist here until you do.”
Her heart should be shattering. It just wasn’t. Winston was home! He was damaged, and that hurt...badly. But this wasn’t about her. Love...it truly meant fighting the other’s fight. And he had one hell of a big one in front of him. She was on it. Full force.
He could leave. She wouldn’t stop him. Neither would she make it easy for him.
&nb
sp; “I think it would be best if you followed me to San Diego. I’ll return the rental car and, if you have time, I would like to stop by the barracks and get the few things I’ve accumulated over the past two weeks...”
Two weeks.
“Did you say two weeks?” she asked. Officer Hall had said he’d been back a “short time.” She’d assumed days.
“I crawled out of the desert a little over two weeks ago, yes.”
“How little?” He must think her nuts, standing there grilling him like the exact moment mattered.
But it did. Had she been inseminated with his sperm the same day he’d officially made it back to them?
“It was a Wednesday. A little over two weeks ago.”
The exact same day.
It was a sign. Had to be. She just had to hold on. To serve him as he’d served his country. Life was happening as it was meant to. Winston was going to need a miracle to heal. And the very day he’d escaped, she’d taken the step to create his miracle.
He continued to assess her. She wanted to tell him. Was bursting with their news. But something told her to keep her counsel for the moment. At least until she got him officially out of San Diego.
And had a chance to speak with the chaplain, or whoever else she might refer.
“You want to change before we go?” she asked him. “You used to hate being in uniform on Sundays at home.”
He didn’t even glance toward his side of the closet before he shook his head.
“Let’s go then.” She couldn’t get this chore done fast enough. She needed him moved back in, even if that only meant a couple of sacks in the back of her car.
Or his. An idea occurred to her. “Let’s take your car,” she told him. “I’ve been taking it out regularly, keeping it serviced. And since you’ll be driving us back...”
He loved his car—an old Camaro he’d restored while they were in college.
He might have hesitated, but she couldn’t be sure. She was busy leading the way. Out of their bedroom and down the hall.
“Emily.”
Her name on his lips. In his voice. Lovely chills ran through her. She turned.