by Debbie Mason
He shifted his attention to the other photo and speared his fingers through his hair. There was no doubt the little boy with the mischievous grin was his.
Maria moved in beside him and studied the pictures. “He looks like you,” she said with a soft smile, reaching for the photos.
Jack held them away from her. For some reason, he didn’t want her to touch them. She looked at him, seemingly surprised by his reaction. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this, Jack.”
Yeah, he’d lost his fucking mind.
“Maybe you and your wife were estranged and—”
Garrison cut her off with a terse “Ms. DeMarco, I’ll see you out.”
This time, Jack didn’t intervene.
* * *
“Are you okay?” his sister asked as she drove the SUV down I-70. She’d been asking him a variation of the same question since their flight landed at the Denver airport two hours ago.
Maybe if he told her the truth, she’d quit asking. “How do you think I am, Jill? I have a wife and son I don’t remember, and I was messing around with another woman.” And there’d been no one to stop him. He’d gone up with a new crew that morning. But still, it seemed odd that he hadn’t mentioned his family before the crash. He’d called Quinn, Holden, and Josh on the way to the airport. They’d been as shocked by the news as he was. Maybe Maria was right, and Jack’s marriage wasn’t as happy as his sister and father-in-law believed.
“You didn’t know you were married.” Chewing on her bottom lip—it was a nervous tic Jill had developed at six—she cast him a sidelong glance. “Grace doesn’t have to know. I won’t say anything and neither will her dad.”
Lying went against his moral code, but Jack wasn’t stupid. He didn’t plan on telling the woman who’d been waiting for him to come home about the other woman in his life. At least not right away. And when he finally got around to calling Maria back—she’d filled his voice mail—he’d make it clear that she had no place in his life now.
“What’s Grace like?” he asked. He’d been relieved when Jill called her from the Dulles airport to tell her not to make the trip to Denver. Jack had been reeling from the news of what he’d lost, the knowledge he had a wife and son. Still was. He needed a few more hours to get his head around everything. It was why, when he’d sensed his sister was going to hand him the phone, he’d ducked into a barbershop for a shave and haircut to avoid talking to his wife.
“She’s amazing. She’s sweet and kind, a bit reserved and quiet, but not in a stuck-up sort of way.” She gave him a wry smile. “When you first brought her to meet Nana and me, I thought she was one of those rich society girls. She was too perfect and polite. But she’s not like that at all. I know she doesn’t sound anything like the girls you dated in the past, Jack, but you were crazy about her. I’d never seen you as happy as when you were with Grace.”
His sister was right about one thing: Jack dated bad girls. And from everything Jill said, his wife fell in the good-girl category. The same girls he’d avoided once he was old enough to know the difference. They were the ones who wanted a ring on their finger. “But?” he asked when Jill averted her gaze.
“Nothing.”
“Shortstop, I know when you’re holding out on me. Spill.”
She released a shuddering breath and reached for his hand. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“I missed you, too.” He squeezed her hand, and she blinked back tears. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No way,” she said on a choked laugh. “You drive like a maniac. I’d have to arrest you.”
True. There was nothing Jack liked better than taking the mountain roads at breakneck speed on his Harley. His grandmother used to accuse him of having a death wish. He didn’t. He’d needed the rush and the excitement, needed to test his boundaries. The small town of Christmas had been as much a prison as the one he’d just escaped.
Because there’d been nothing or no one to jog his memory in Afghanistan, Doctor Peters was confident Jack’s memory would return fairly quickly once he was in familiar surroundings. Jack was counting on it. He didn’t plan on trading one prison for another.
“You going to tell me what you’re holding back?”
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “You were different when you came back. You’d only been home for a few months when you re-upped. I know it was because of Charlie, but it was hard on all of us, especially Grace. You’d only been married eight months when you deployed, and you had been gone a year. So for you to voluntarily leave again, yeah, it was tough. And then not a week later, we got word you were MIA.”
His wife and son weren’t the only ones he’d forgotten. He hadn’t remembered that his grandmother had died three months before he’d returned from his initial deployment. But it wasn’t the news of her death that had knocked him on his ass. He never got along with his grandmother. No, it was learning of the death of his best friend and copilot Charlie in Dr. Peters’s office that had him struggling to keep it together.
“Grace’s father is a general. She knew what she was signing up for.” And that’s the only reason he could come up with for breaking his vow to remain single. She knew the score and wouldn’t fall apart like his mother.
“Really, Jack? How exactly does someone prepare for that?”
He might not remember his wife, but that didn’t stop an anxious knot from tightening in his gut. “She’s okay, isn’t she?”
“She’s strong. She’s not like Mom, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It was, but he wouldn’t admit that to his sister. “I wasn’t. And you were there for her, you and the general.”
“A lot of people supported her, but she blamed her father for pulling the strings that allowed you to go back to Afghanistan, Jack. She hasn’t spoken to him much since you went missing.”
That explained the comment the general had made to Jack when he’d pulled him aside at the airport. He’d said his daughter didn’t forgive easily and advised Jack not to tell her about Maria.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said as they turned off the highway and the scenery became all too familiar. Feeling hemmed in by the mountains and the memories, he opened the window, breathing in the pine-scented air.
“Welcome home, Jack,” his sister said softly.
“Thanks, shortstop.” He didn’t bother reminding her that Christmas had never felt like home. He frowned when they turned on to Main Street. “I thought we were going to your place? Jill?” he said when she didn’t respond.
Instead she said, “Oh, look, Jack,” and pointed to the old-fashioned lampposts decked out with yellow ribbons, the pastel painted shops with the “Welcome Home” signs in their windows. She glanced at him, her eyes bright. “I know how you felt about Christmas, but please give it a chance. You’re not the town bad boy who almost burned down the church hall and flooded the school anymore. You’re our hero.”
He didn’t feel much like a hero. And there were a few other incidents his sister didn’t know about, but now wasn’t the time to enlighten her. “It’s real nice that they went to all this trouble. I do appreciate it.” Oddly enough, he did. Crowds lined the sidewalks, spilling out of what used to be his grandmother’s bakery. He took in the purple-and-white-striped awning and the sign above. “I’m surprised with what Libby’s sales were that someone opened another bakery. Looks like they put in some serious coin.”
His sister followed his gaze and chewed her lip.
He was already nervous enough about meeting his wife and son, and Jill wasn’t helping matters. “Would you stop? You’re going to gnaw your lip off. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said, pulling alongside the curb. “Gage got married. His wife, Madison, is the mayor, and she, ah, owns the bakery. She’s supersmart and a financial whiz. The bakery’s doing really well. Wait until you see the changes. It looks great. And, um, Madison offered to hold your welcome-home celebration there. We
thought it was a nice idea. You’re not mad, are you? I know how you felt about the bakery when Nana owned it, but…”
“Jesus, dial it back a notch. I barely made out what you said.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous.” She looked over the crowd and opened the driver-side door. “I can’t believe how many people have come out to welcome you home.”
She was nervous? At that moment, Jack contemplated sliding into the driver’s seat and heading for Fort Carson. His sister frowned. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Yeah.” He forced a smile. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Three
Grace glanced out the window to where the citizens of Christmas stood three deep along Main Street. Inside, the bakery was just as crowded with well-wishers. She struggled to keep her frustration and, if she was honest, her resentment, from showing. She’d wanted her first meeting with Jack to be in private. But it wasn’t as if she could send everyone on their way once they’d started arriving an hour ago. Jack had known them a lot longer than he’d known her. And at least he remembered them.
“If you’re not careful,” Madison said, prying Grace’s fingers from the strand of pearls at her neck, “you’re going to choke yourself.”
Grace unclenched her hand, letting it fall to her side. “I didn’t realize… Thanks.” She managed a smile. She was as nervous to see Jack as she had been on their first date. Scratch that. She was beyond nervous. She should’ve ignored Doctor Peters and her father’s wishes and gone to Virginia. The worst of it would be over now. But no, Grace Garrison Flaherty always did what she was told. You’d think at thirty years old she would’ve broken the habit by now.
Maybe she would have if the few times in her life when she’d done and said exactly what she’d wanted to hadn’t ended in disaster. It was probably for the best she’d obeyed the men’s wishes after all. Especially since Jack Junior had come down with the flu the night they’d learned his father was alive.
She kept a watchful eye on her son as he played with Madison’s stepdaughters, Annie and Lily, at one of the tables. Raising her gaze, she met Sawyer’s. Since that night at the Penalty Box, she’d barely seen him.
Of course, because he was a good man, a good friend, he’d repaired the damage Stu had left behind and lent a hand when they moved back into their apartment. But so had plenty of people, making it easy for Sawyer to avoid her. She was grateful he’d only avoided her and not Jack Junior.
Grace hoped in time they’d get back to the way they once were. She didn’t want what happened between them to put a strain on Sawyer and Jack’s friendship. Not that anything had actually happened, but she knew it had only been a matter of time before it did.
Cheers erupted out on the street. He’s here, Grace thought, pressing a hand to her stomach in an effort to calm the nervous flutter. A look of concern in his eyes, Sawyer took a step toward her. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned against the wall.
Her throat tightened, and she barely managed to get the words out. “Come here, baby. Daddy’s home.”
Jack Junior glanced at Sawyer. Please, no, not now, Grace thought, and hurried to the table, scooping her son into her arms.
“Damn reporters,” Madison muttered when Grace returned to her side, her narrowed gaze moving from the window to Grace. “You didn’t happen to make a sugar plum cake for Jack’s homecoming, did you?”
Between Jack Junior being sick and getting the apartment ready for Jack’s arrival, she hadn’t had time. Grace cast an anxious glance at the glass display case that held the cupcakes and cookies she had on hand. Madison patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I just thought we could take advantage of the publicity. But since we can’t…” She smiled up at her husband. “Sugar, can you do something about the reporters?” Madison gestured to the men and women who shoved microphones and cameras into the faces of the crowd on the sidewalk. The corner of Gage’s mouth twitched, and he playfully tweaked his wife’s ponytail. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Grace self-consciously touched her own hair. With the number of people who’d come out for the event, she hadn’t noticed the reporters until Madison brought them to her attention. She should have. When her mother had called earlier, she’d warned Grace there would be a media frenzy.
Helena Garrison wanted to make sure her daughter behaved like a proper military wife, that she was suitably attired, suitably prepared. She’d wanted to ask her mother how exactly she was supposed to prepare to see the man who’d forgotten her, her and their son.
Grace ignored the thought along with the dull ache that accompanied it. After what Jack had survived, she had no right to be hurt. And maybe it was for the best. They’d have a chance to reconnect without the memory of that last night coming between them.
Madison wrapped an arm around her shoulders and frowned. “Grace, you’re trembling. Maybe you should sit down.”
Madison’s comment drew the attention of Dr. McBride. Despite being in his sixties, the dark-haired man was as good-looking as his son. “I’m fine,” Grace assured him, tightening her hold on Jack Junior, who wriggled in her arms. “Baby, don’t…” She trailed off when everyone started to clap and whistle, to shout, “Welcome home!” Her husband’s commanding presence filled the entrance to the bakery.
He stood there in his uniform, as breath-stealingly handsome as she remembered. “Jack,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the strain of the emotion welling up inside her. He’d looked different in the photos they’d released from Afghanistan. His wavy dark hair had been long, his strong, masculine jaw hidden behind a full beard. Now his hair was shorter, the shadow on his jaw accentuating, rather than hiding, his movie-star good looks. But his eyes were the same startling blue in his deeply tanned face as they’d always been. And now they lasered in on her.
She felt the weight of the crowd’s attention as they parted to make room for her to go to her husband. Desperate to think of something to say, uncertain what to do, Grace felt a hot flush work its way up her face. Madison took Jack Junior from her and gave Grace a nudge in her husband’s direction. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself in his arms, but there was a guarded look in his eyes that held her back. He doesn’t remember you, she reminded herself. He doesn’t love you. As if Jack sensed how close she was to losing her composure, sympathy darkened his eyes, and he reached her in three confident strides. He hesitated for a heartbreaking moment before drawing her into his arms.
When he did, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed him in. For months she’d wrapped herself in his sweatshirts, worn them to bed, drawing comfort from the warm, spicy scent that was his and his alone, until one day that faded away, too, just like his memory of her.
A sob escaped from her parted lips, and then another. The tears she struggled to contain rolled helplessly down her cheeks. His strong arms banded around her, his large hand moving in comforting circles on her back. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, his breath warming her ear. “It’s going to be okay.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe his memory would return along with the man she’d fallen in love with. Not the one who’d left for Afghanistan seventeen months ago. Cocooned in his embrace, she pushed her doubts away. All she needed to do was show him how happy they’d once been. She nestled deeper in his arms and immediately sensed his discomfort, the stiffening of the corded muscles in his back. Embarrassed, she pulled away and swiped at her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Jack Junior broke free from Madison. “No hurt my mama,” he yelled.
“No, baby, it’s okay. They’re happy tears.” Grace knelt down, opening her arms to him. “He wasn’t…” Jack Junior zigzagged past her to hurl himself at his father.
* * *
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who’d fallen apart in his arms. He hadn’t been prepared for the hard punch of attraction he’d felt from just holding her, from brea
thing in her soft, feminine scent. She smelled like wildflowers and cinnamon, and for a split second, he caught a wisp of memory. They were laughing in a meadow as he twirled her in his arms. Princess. He’d called her princess.
He didn’t know if the memory was real or not, but the name suited her. There was something regal about the way she held herself in the prim and proper yellow dress she wore, a strand of pearls at her neck. Jill was right. With her honey-blonde hair pulled back from her perfect oval face, his wife looked exactly like the snotty rich girls he’d once avoided. Until he looked into her liquid gold eyes and saw the warmth there, the warmth and the love.
But there was no love in the electric-blue eyes of the little boy who sank his teeth into Jack’s leg. Jack winced and reached for him. The kid let loose an ear-splitting shriek. Jack reared back, holding up his hands. “I didn’t touch him.”
“I know you didn’t,” his wife assured him and went down on her knees beside the little boy, trying to pry his jaw open. “Jackson Flaherty, you stop that right… Ouch.”
At his mother’s pained cry, the toddler loosened his grip on Jack’s leg. Reaching for her reddened finger, he kissed it and gave her a dimpled smile. “Owie better.” He scowled at Jack.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, coming to her feet with the little boy in her arms. “He’s never done that before. Jack Junior, you apologize to your daddy this instant.”
The little boy buried his face in his mother’s neck and shook his head. “It’s okay,” Jack said, and tentatively reached out to touch him. “He was just protecting you.” His voice was gruff as he stroked the toddler’s dark, curly hair. Son. He had a son.
“No, it’s not okay, but we’ll talk about it later.” Her lips curved in a soft smile. “He’s a lot like you, you know.”
“I think his teeth are sharper.”
She laughed. “No, I mean he looks just like you.”
Her laugh was rich and warm, and it caused his chest to tighten the same way looking at his son did. He managed a smile. “I haven’t gotten a good look at him yet.”