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When Vince opened his arm, I leaned in. Me, my man, and his dog. Chewie was technically his dog. I chuckled at the thought.
“What?” Vince asked as I approached.
I couldn’t help but smile as I ruffled Chewie’s fur. “Remember the fight we had about him?”
Vince chuckled. “You mean about how you didn’t want a dog because you’d end up taking care of it when I was gone?”
“That’s the one.” We both stopped smiling and laughing.
“Hailey, don’t do that,” Vince warned, his tone serious.
“I’m sorry.” My eyes filled with tears. “As soon as I said it, I . . . it’s stupid.”
“Hailey, we’ve been together for a long time. Of course, we’ve had fights.” He lifted my chin for me to meet his eyes.
“I just hate that that’s the first thing I asked you.”
He kissed me tenderly, our fur baby nestled between our legs. I held on tightly, afraid that this perfect moment would disappear the moment I let go.
Chewie must have sensed something different about Vince. He whined softly and nudged his master’s hand. I reached down to soothe him and ruffled his fur. “Everything’s going to be okay, buddy,” Vince said. He cupped my face. I nodded. Yes, everything would be all right.
Chapter 9
Hailey
Vince’s steps were steady. The ache in my chest was nothing compared to the anguish on his face. I saw the effort it took for him to stand tall, to keep moving forward despite the pain he was in. He was courageous—a man determined to face everything head-on.
When we finally reached the porch, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. He paused momentarily as if gathering his strength before enveloping me in his arms. I buried my face in his chest, joy and worry colliding within.
Chewie pressed his head against my leg, his tail wagging furiously as if trying to communicate his own relief.
Vince brushed his lips against my hair. “We’re home.” His voice was a low, soothing rumble, grounding me in the reality of the moment.
Hand in hand, we stepped over the threshold together, Chewie right there with us.
We’d only reached the living room when Vince stopped dead in his tracks. Chewie healed at his side. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Vince shook his head. “It’s weird. I have memories of this room. Of the house. But . . .” he trailed off as his eyes darted to every corner of the room.
“Let’s get you settled in. I know it’s a lot to take in and get used to again. Maybe I was too optimistic. We can go somewhere else for the night if you want. Try this again tomorrow.”
Vince’s brows drew together in a scowl. “Why? It’s not going to help. It’s not like if I wait another day, everything’s going to come flooding back.” He smacked his head. Frustrated tears welled in his eyes. Vince wasn’t an overly emotional man. At least he wasn’t before . . . before . . . I didn’t even know what to think of the time he was gone. It wasn’t an accident, even though he was in an accident. He was tortured and abused. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, day in and day out for so long.
“Tell me what to do, Vince. What do you need?”
His voice was hollow and despondent when he said, “I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.”
“We can make some sandwiches and sit out back with Chewie. Would that be okay?”
He nodded softly. He looked so lost as he patted his leg. “Come on, boy,” he said.
I followed behind, wishing there was something I could do to make this an easy transition for Vince. I wasn’t used to him like this. He was strong, resolute, and determined. That was the man I remembered.
He surprised me when he turned down the hallway instead of heading into the kitchen. “Vince?” I asked, unsure of what was going on.
“Let’s just . . .” He stopped at the collage of us through the years. The years before we got married. “God, we look so young.” He chuckled softly as he touched the glass tentatively. He tapped one of my favorite pictures of us—the one of him holding me up in his arms as we kissed. It was right after he got back from his first tour. “I remember this day.” He sounded hopeful and happy. “And this one was the day we moved in here.” He tapped another picture. “And this was our very first Christmas together.”
“Remember this one?” I asked, pointing to one of us on the beach.
