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Snatching up the socks, he threw them on the mattress. That’s what they’d branded her, but he’d never really believed it. Even though all the evidence suggested otherwise.
And he liked empirical evidence. He needed things to be straightforward, for facts to line up. To be able to take the macro—the big picture—and pick it apart and analyze it down into the micro. He searched for patterns. For things to make sense.
Nothing about his wife made sense.
Moving his rucksack and boots off the single chair, he motioned her in. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
She bit her bottom lip, staring at the seat and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Seeing her uneasy and unsure made his chest squeeze. Genevieve Montgomery had never been unsure a day in her life. What had prison done to her?
What hadhe?
“I don’t want to bother you.” She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Beatrice knows about…us. Ranger too. I’m going to ask Rory to make our marriage certificate disappear. I just wanted you to know, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Everything inside him seized up. “Why would you do that?”
She took a deep breath and paused, seeming to get her thoughts in alignment. “Technically, the world believes I’m dead, so you’re free, but I don’t want our…indiscretion in Vegas to cause blowback on you. I know you’re no longer with the military, but you don’t want to be the husband of a traitor, regardless.”
She looked small standing there. Breakable. Her voice was too quiet, too disheartened. He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, tell her that it would all be okay, but she wasn’t the same person he’d known previously, and he honestly had no evidence that things would ever be okay between them again.
“You’re not a traitor, and I don’t care about the marriage license. I mean…” That had come out wrong. “I care aboutyou, not about what other people think. I would like a few answers, but I heard what you told Beatrice. Trauma can do that—make you close off certain memories. When your mind believes you’re ready to handle it, you’ll uncover them. You just need time.”
Who was the psychologist here, he wondered.
Her face was in shadow, but he saw the corners of her pretty eyes soften slightly. “You deserve a life, and I know you’ve found one here. I’m staying to help Sloane, if that’s possible, but after that, I’m undecided. My new identity as Vivian Greene is still malleable according to Rory, and I can decide on my backstory once I figure a few things out. Meanwhile, I won’t interfere with your future. I want you to be happy, and I won’t hang around here longer than necessary.”
She turned and fled before he could find the words to respond, and even though she hadn’t entered the room, it suddenly seemed too bare, too stark, without her. Even in the shape she was in, a shadow of her former self, her unique personality influenced any space she came in contact with.
His natural instinct was to go after her, but she was like a frightened animal right now. Underneath it, he knew she was still strong, determined, but he needed to use kid gloves to convince her that her future was with him.
Fighting his instinct to chase her down, he told himself it was progress that she had come to him and initiated conversation. He would have his chance to prove to her that he wasn’t going anywhere. He would apologize for calling her a coward.
He would get the answers he needed, and maybe she would as well, but he’d always known they were better together than apart.
All he had to do was convinceherof that.
During his years in the military, he’d faced some pretty big challenges. Helping her uncover the truth of that night and stopping her from throwing away their marriage might be the biggest and most important one yet.
Leaving the unmatched socks, he went to see Rory. The IT guy was not in his normal spot, but working on his physical therapy downstairs next to the gym. Normally, Ian wouldn’t have interrupted, but this was important.
He approached Rory and Dr. Amelia Thorpe, the physical therapist. “I need to talk to you in private.”
Dr. Thorpe gave him the evil eye. “Can’t it wait?”
Rory grunted as he did another leg curl. “What do you want, Kincaid?”
“It’s about a personal matter. You’re going to get a request from”—he stopped himself from saying her name, or giving away any details. “Um… Someone is going to ask you to delete something that…”
Shit. This was touchy business, and he didn’t need the physical therapist suspecting there was anything going on between him and Vivi. If it were up to him, he would get on the PA system and announce to everyone that they were married, but his wife had never been demonstrative, and he wasn’t going to undermine her in anyway. He would convince her he still loved her and wanted to stay married. Or get married again, due to the circumstances. Her being dead to the world had advantages, but also had little things like this they would have to work around. He didn’t care. He would do it, whatever it took, to bring back the woman he’d known. To make her feel loved again, supported again. When she was ready, then he’d announce it from the tree tops.
“Spit it out, rookie,” Rory growled. He finished his rep and grabbed the nearby towel to wipe sweat from his neck. He started to growl something else, then saw the consternation on Ian’s face. “Oh,that.” He glanced at Thorpe. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, but could you give me a minute with him?”
Hands on hips, she rolled her eyes. Her black hair was braided and hung down over one shoulder. She flipped it to her back and gave him a scolding look. “One minute. That’s it, Then we’re back to it.”
She was a petite thing, but when she stomped away, she seemed three times larger. Rory chuckled. “I like her.”
By the look in his eyes, there was more thanlikegoing on here. “I’m glad the therapy is working for you. I’m a jerk to interrupt, but I just found out,”—he lowered his voice—“Vivi plans to ask you to find our marriage certificate and delete it. Don’t.”
He wiped his face. “Did you woo her with your charm and cause her to have a change of heart?”
