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He released a sigh, wrestling with whatever inner conflict held him back from telling her. “He was in the nursery. In that rocking chair.”
Spinning away, she tried to block Wes’s words. She could still picture the antique rocker she’d coveted for months before Ian surprised her with it for their anniversary. How many times had she imagined rocking their daughter in that chair as she nursed?
“He’s still in that apartment. Still waiting for you to come back. Still holding on to the life you planned. Drinking himself to death.” He mumbled this last piece. No doubt the drinking was a bone of contention between the men.
She remembered the angry scar on Ian’s side. “He was in an accident.”
Wes snorted. “You mean a suicide mission? He’s damn lucky. He should’ve died. I think he’s still pissed he didn’t.”
Her heart ached. Ian may have shattered her heart, but that didn’t mean she wanted him miserable. She knew how it felt to want to die. She didn’t wish that on anyone. Especially not the man she still loved. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes at the thought. She’d known before Ian arrived that she still loved him. The emotion was just easier to ignore when he was hundreds of miles away.
“I didn’t want that for him. I wanted him to be happy.”
“He’d be happy if you came home. We all would.”
She met her former friend’s watery gaze. She’d never meant to stay away forever, just long enough to figure out how to move forward and shore her heart up against Ian. But then Arabella had been born, and she’d been unable to leave the island.
“I can’t. Ever. It’s best everyone realizes that. My life is here now.”
Wes nodded slowly. “If you say so.”
