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Prologue
SAILORS, SOLDIERS AND AIRMEN lined the grave site. Amy Benton stared at them, noting the differences in their dress uniforms. The men in the dark blues stood at attention beside the ones in the bright whites. Medals lined their chests, every single one.
These men were Darren’s brothers, teammates and friends. And their presence here, at her husband’s grave, made the truth undeniable. Darren, the man she’d fallen head over heels in love with more than a decade ago, back when they were high school students, was not coming home again.
Her chin dropped to her chest. Freshly shined shoes stood in sharp contrast to the bright green grass. She looked at her scuffed black flats, drawing her lower lip into her mouth. She’d forgotten to polish her shoes.
Amy’s hands formed tight fists, her pale pink nails digging into her palms as the tears threatened. She’d painted her fingernails. That had to count for something. But how could she forget about her shoes?
Maybe she’d worn the wrong pair. She tried to think back to this morning, but the hours blurred together. She felt as if she’d spent a series of endless days, unable to sleep, fighting her way through a sea of pain, allowing herself to bury the truth.
Standing here in her scuffed shoes, she couldn’t hide anymore.
But falling apart surrounded by these men in their pristine uniforms? Impossible. Biting back her sobs, she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to run. That wasn’t her. She didn’t draw attention. Darren’s place was in the spotlight—and hers was waiting off to the side with a smile plastered on her face.
Once upon a time that smile had been real. Slowly, it had become something she wore only when leaving the house, not much different from a hat. And then she’d lost it altogether. It was as if she’d set it aside the day those strangers in uniform had knocked on her door, their expressions lined with pity. She’d put her smile in a closet and closed the door.
Damn him for leaving her to face this alone!
Opening her eyes, Amy turned away from the burial. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t watch. She moved toward the trees, unsure where she was going. Away. From his death and the seemingly insurmountable, endless pain.
She stumbled over a root. A man’s hand grasped her elbow, steadying her.
“I’ve got you.” The familiar voice was a low steady rumble.
“I can’t go back,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have to.” Mark Rhodes, her husband’s best friend since grade school, kept a hold on her arm, leading her away.
The tears came, hot and fast, so far beyond her control, she didn’t try to hold them back. Mark stopped beside her car, gently leaning her against the passenger-side door while he reached in his pocket and withdrew a key.
“I’m taking you home,” he said.
Amy nodded, allowing him to guide her into the seat and fasten her belt. She should protest, ask him to drive to her mother-in-law’s house, where the family, friends and all those men in uniform planned to congregate after the burial. But she didn’t say a word.
Mark drove in silence. He didn’t demand to know how she was feeling—though it was probably obvious from her tears—or offer reassurances. When they pulled up to her house, he helped her out of the car as if she were a child.
Taking her hand, he led her away from the front door and down through the grass. Out back, only a short distance from the home she’d shared with Darren, stood her kennel. It was a modest building capable
of boarding a dozen pets. At the moment, it stood empty. Her customers had all come for their dogs to give her the time and space to grieve.
But right now, she wanted to hear barking. She craved the sounds of everyday life.
Mark guided her to a wooden bench beside the dog run, a large fenced-in area.
“Sit down, Amy,” he said, tempering his command with a gentle tone as if she were a frightened animal.
Amy obeyed, staring out at the mountains in the distance. Heart’s Landing, Oregon, her home since birth, sat a few miles inland from the coast, surrounded by distant mountains. She loved this view and this place. But not today.
“I wish I’d worn ruby slippers,” she said.
Mark sat down beside her on the bench. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her black flats. “Might have looked out of place.”
