Love in a Sandstorm (Pine Harbour Book 6)

by Zoe York

He shifted his cane to his other hand and carefully took the plate. By the time she joined him at the table, he had a forkful of pasta salad speared. As soon as her butt hit the chair, he shovelled it into his mouth and made a groan that pleased her more than words could say. “Man, this is good. You’re going to make me fat with all this food.”

  She shrugged. “Or strong.”

  “Is that your plan?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a plan. That sounds certain and deliberate.”

  “And what is this?” He stabbed his fork at the pasta again and she had to swallow a grin.

  “Something between a wish and a prayer.”

  He gave her an inscrutable look as he pushed the food into his mouth. “It’s good. As dinner. Crap as a plan.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “If you want to bulk me up again, you could make steak.”

  Was that right? “You could make steak.”

  “Maybe I will.” He glanced toward the deck. “We’d need to get a barbecue.”

  We.

  It wasn’t devouring kisses or even heated looks, but Jenna fell on that single word like it was a gift from heaven. “Sure,” she said smoothly. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  And just like that, her desire to have him move in roared back to life.

  TWO WEEKS after Jenna’s first dinner invitation, Sean woke up to a text message from Dani. Up for a visit from me and Calvin?

  It was the first social call he’d received on his new phone, and it startled him. Was he such a miserable cur that it had taken this long for anyone to reach out to him?

  You could have texted someone. Anyone, really.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. Yeah, he could do a lot more than he had. He was still dodging visits from the regiment, too.

  Dani first, though.

  For sure, he typed back. Do you want to pick me up and we can hit Mac’s, just like the old days?

  Now a visit to the diner meant grabbing a high chair for his nephew on the way in—and feeling like a champ for managing the chair in one hand and his cane in the other.

  Not quite like the old days.

  But the burger and shake was the same. And so was Dani’s nosy, accept-zero-bullshit attitude about his life. She didn’t fancy it up by calling it an intervention, though. She just wanted to give him shit.

  “What’s with this pick you up business?” She grinned at him. “We’re not twenty, and you have a perfectly good truck.”

  “Jenna’s using it. And I had a truck when I was twenty.”

  “Which I had to drive half the time because you were drunk.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, I was a shithead. So what’s your point?”

  She gave him an unexpectedly soft look from across the booth. “It was my turn to hassle you. What I really want to say is that you’ve come a long way in a short period of time.”

  “We can stop talking about me now,” he said gruffly, his cheeks flushing as he reached for his milkshake. He wasn’t sure he deserved much credit for any of that. Jenna was the one who’d been feeding him well, re-fuelling him after gruelling physio sessions that left him gutted.

  “Can we talk about your wife?”

  He choked on a mouthful of chocolate shake. “Sure,” he said after clearing his throat.

  “She’s lovely.”

  Dani had no idea. “That she is.”

  “And you didn’t tell anyone.”

  “It was…” He rubbed at his temple. “At the time, it seemed like the right call. I didn’t want her to be in any danger.”

  “And then once you were hurt?” Dani’s eyes flashed in anger. “I can’t imagine Jake being injured somewhere and not being told.”

  Sean wanted to tell her that was different, but he wasn’t sure it was. Not at the time, anyway. Now…now he didn’t know what he was to Jenna. A friend, maybe. “I tried,” he admitted quietly. “At first. But they couldn’t understand me. And then it seemed like it was for the best that she wasn’t there.”

  Dani nodded. “I know it was awful.” And she was a paramedic. Sean knew she wasn’t just saying that. Dean may have been the one to fly to Germany and sit at his side, but his entire family had received updates—

  Not your entire family.

  He shoved his plate away.

  “Do you want a doggie bag?”

  He blinked at Dani.

  “Let’s get everything. If we don’t finish, that’s okay. Do you think they do doggie bags?”

  Jenna laughed, soft and bright. “No. And I don’t want to be wasteful.”

  “We’re on vacation. Live a little.”

  “I’m living plenty already.”

  Instead of answering his friend, he lifted his hand. When the waitress came over, he asked for a box for his food, and then asked what pies they had today. “I’ll take a slice of each of them, please. To go.” He looked across the booth at Dani, who was beaming at him. “What?”

  “Jenna likes pie.”

  “I know. How do you know?”

  “We have lunch sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “A few times.”

  Jenna hadn’t said anything about that. “Please tell me you haven’t pulled out any naked baby pictures. Of me, I mean. Feel free to show off Mr. Calvin here.” He tried to give his nephew a French fry, but Dani swooped in with mom hands and snatched it away.

  “No fries.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Yep.” She gestured to his lunch. “Come on, pack up. I’ll drop you off on my way home.”

  “I’m going to Jenna’s next.”

  She gave him a weird look. “Obviously.”

  “Is it?”

  Dani just laughed. “Oh, Sean.”

  He didn’t know what that meant, but he wasn’t digging into it now.

  Jenna was reading on her iPad when he arrived. The way her forehead was scrunched together, he knew it was work-related, so he waved the takeout bag at her and kept on going to the kitchen. She joined him as he was putting on coffee.

  “Chloe’s arranged for me to have access to some medical journals through the library,” she said as she grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. “So I’ve been catching up on some reading I didn’t have time to do in Turkey.”

  “What’s new in the field of midwifery?”

  She laughed. “A fair bit, actually. Lots of shifting opinions about the importance of giving birth in your own community.” Twin slashes of pink cut across her cheeks. “Something I wish I’d spent more time reading about before going to Urfa, really. I knew it was difficult for those women to be displaced, but…” She let out a sharp breath. “Well, when you know better you do better. It’s fascinating reading, really.”

  “Tell me about it.” He gestured to the counter. “I just had lunch with Dani, and there was pie. I had to share it.”

  “Cool. I can totally take a pie break now. Then I need to dash to the library to load more articles on my iPad. The journal subscription is restricted to the library network only.” She took a careful look at the four slices he’d set out. “This is a lot of pie.”

  “I may have gotten carried away,” Sean said, suddenly feeling a bit wrong-footed. Had he overreached?

  She slid him a sideways glance and smiled. “I wasn’t complaining.”

  She picked the strawberry rhubarb, and he grabbed the apple.

  “Tell me more about this new way of thinking,” he said, and she did. She leaned in and between slow bites, she spilled everything she’d been reading and thinking.

  She had his whole attention. He was engrossed as she told him about a study done by Inuit midwives in the north.

  But too soon, the pie was gone, and an unwelcome yawn forced its way out of his mouth.

  “I should go to the library,” she said.

  He opened his mouth to protest, and another yawn slipped out. Fucking hell. “I’ll just grab a quick nap,” he said quietly. “I’ll be recharged by the time you get back.”

  He
was asleep before she left. He’d stretched out on the couch one second, and the next he was being dragged out of his unconscious stupor by a series of knocks at the front door.

  Bleary-eyed, Sean dragged himself up off the couch. Once the room stopped spinning, he carefully made his way to the door, where a delivery driver stood filling out a missed-delivery notice slip.

  “Oh,” the guy said. “I didn’t think anyone was home.”

  “Can I help you?” Sean wasn’t interested in small talk.

  “Registered letter for Jenna Kowalczyk.”

  Sean nodded and took the envelope. He scrawled his signature on the driver’s digital pad then closed the door. He checked the clock. He’d slept for an hour.

  He slowly made his way into the kitchen and set the letter down on the counter. He stared at the return address and logo in the top left hand corner. The College of Midwives of Ontario.

  His brows pulled tight. What was Jenna doing? He poured himself a glass of water and downed it in five steady gulps.

  He’d just refilled the glass when she returned.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” he called out when the door opened.

  She came in and set her tablet on the counter. Her skin was flush and her hair had a bit of a humid curl to it.

  “Hot outside?”

  “Little bit. I walked over.” Her eyes darted to the water glass in his hand.

  He held it out. “You want some?”

  Instantly, he had a flashback to Spain.

  Always.

  Her eyes widened. Was she hit with the same aching jolt of deja vu?

  But she just smiled and twisted around to grab her own glass.

  “You got mail,” he said as he shifted out of the way. He tried to be casual about it, tossing it over his shoulder as he headed back into the living room. “It came as a registered letter to the door and I signed for it.”

  “Thank you.” Behind him, she didn’t move. He heard her drink, and kept moving.

  “It’s from the College of Midwives of Ontario.”

  “Oh, excellent!” Now she was following him, ripping the envelope open. “That was faster than I expected.”

  His heart pounded in his chest as he sat down on the couch and looked up at her. “You’re going to start practicing here?”

  She stopped mid-rip and glanced at him, giving him a cautious look. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.” He tried to not make that sound petulant. Tell me more secrets. He knew less about her now than he had after knowing her for two days. She’d stormed ahead with some plan here and not breathed a word of it to him.

  She searched his face. “It just didn’t come up. I mean, you didn’t ask. And I need to work—”

  She cut herself off, and shame twisted Sean’s gut. Of course she did.

  He couldn’t.

  He grimaced, and waved her off. “I get it.”

  CRAP.

  Jenna felt like a heel.

  In her dogged optimism that they’d find their way back to each other, she’d forgotten that he lost most of his identity in the explosion. No more career officer. No more running.

  She’d pinned all his happiness on a return to being her husband.

  How would she feel if the situation were reversed?

  She set the letter down. “I should have told you. This is probably confirmation of my application for registration. I sent in my degree and work records from British Columbia a few weeks ago.” When you were giving me the silent treatment, she wanted to add. “I haven’t pursued any jobs yet.”

  “But you want to.”

  In the long term, she’d need to, but she wasn’t going to point that out again. “I do.”

  He gave her a hard-to-read look. “Are there jobs around here?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t…that hasn’t been my focus.” She moved around the coffee table and joined him on the couch.

  “You could go anywhere.”

  “I could. I’m not going to.” Not unless you wanted to move. There was still a lot of stuff that couldn’t be said between them. But it didn’t matter if she couldn’t voice that truth out loud; it was still the truth even if it was a secret. Even if at the same time, she resented that he no longer welcomed her secrets. That he actively hid from the deeper, darker bits of her. She’d once thought she might follow him anywhere. Now she knew that to be absolutely true. She’d follow him no matter what.

  “You’re really not going,” he said quietly, and the fact he’d still thought she might give up on him sliced into her like a scalpel.

  “I’m here to stay,” she breathed. “I thought I’d made that clear.”

  “You probably did.”

  “Keeping my college registration from you wasn’t deliberate, I promise.”

  He nodded, but there was a tightness to his jaw.

  Maybe she needed to re-examine some of the accidental things she was doing, too. Like not sharing how she was coping. She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “I’ve been seeing a therapist. Talking stuff out. I thought you might want to know.”

  He gave her a guarded look. “Stuff about me?”

  “A bit about us. Mostly about me.”

  “Is it helping?”

  “Yeah. It’s good to have an outlet.”

  He nodded. “I've been seeing Jake and Tom.”

  Her lips twitched. “About…?”

  “Mostly about how I'm a jackass.”

  SHE LAUGHED, but it hadn’t been a joke. He was a jackass. He’d been so tangled up in himself he hadn’t noticed she was laying a foundation to work here. Live here.

  Therapy, friendships, job hunting.

  Jenna was planning to stay.

  He’d been a complete ass to her, repeatedly, and she’d registered with her professional college.

  He’d frozen her out of his rehab, and she’d made friends elsewhere.

  She’d been struggling with her feelings and had needed to turn to a professional to have someone to hear her out.

  Meanwhile he’d done his damnedest to show her that he didn’t need her, and she’d somehow twisted that into a regular dinner date between equals.

  He didn’t deserve her loyalty. Or her kindness.

  But he was done being blind to it. “Everything you do comes from a good place,” he finally said. “I promise you that I see that.” No, it was more than that. He took a deep breath. “And I’m proud of you.” The words rushed out of him. “You don’t need to hide work from me. I know you said it wasn’t deliberate, and I see that. But I want to hear more. I want to hear about the research and the job hunt and everything else that goes with shifting gears like this. I know this wasn’t your plan.”

  “I’ve learned that plans need to be flexible.” She gave him a half-smile. “And I need to be patient.”

  That’s why she hadn’t said anything. Fuck. She’d told him she’d have hope. He just hadn’t heard her.

  “Why are you being so good to me?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, her face soft. “Because… you were good to me. Good for me. And I know that if the situation was reversed, you’d take care of me.”

  A pang shot through him. He hadn’t thought of his mother in weeks. As he’d gotten on top of some of the more painful symptoms, the panic and fear that had accompanied them had drifted away, and he’d seen those thoughts as irrational worries. But there it was, a little tug. He shoved it away. Jenna. He needed to focus on her.

  “I’m not the same now,” he said. “I can’t compete with that guy.”

  She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. Her fingers were cool and comforting as she squeezed them tight around his. “You don’t need to.”

  “I do. You deserve him.”

  She was quiet for a while, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “You know,” she said. “You’re way more annoying than he was.”

  At first he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, and then she grinned.

  His m
outh dropped open, and her eyes lit up.

  “You’re a much bigger pain in the ass,” she added, growing bolder. “Grumpier, too.”

  He laughed, because she was right. “I’m fucking tops at that.”

  “You win at scowling. And pessimism. You sweep the entire category.” She shifted closer and bumped her shoulder into his. “Don’t sell your best qualities short.”

  “Clearly I was just looking at this the wrong way.” Except he hated that she saw him as those things. It was the truth. He just didn’t care for how he looked in that light.

  “I like this guy,” she whispered. “Don’t underestimate his appeal.”

  Like. Not love. She’d loved the old Sean. Fell for him in a single easy grin. Now nothing about him was easy and she still liked him.

  He shouldn’t want that. Should know better than to hook his hope onto leftover crumbs. Love had faded and been replaced with something pale and paltry.

  But it was also all he could handle right now. Like.

  What an odd word to fill him with unexpected joy.

  “I like you, too,” he said roughly.

  She smiled. “That’s something, then. As good a place as any to start again.”

  His stomach tightened up. Start again? No. That was—

  “Don’t freak out,” she said, her voice soft and her eyes warm. “No pressure. Promise.”

  What was the point of starting again when he wasn’t sure what he could offer her?

  Of course he was freaking out. She deserved so much more than this.

  But his plan to push her away had failed, because deep down, he didn’t want her to go. And where they were right now wasn’t a permanent solution, either.

  As good a place as any to start again. That was scary as fuck.

  It was probably time for her to pressure him a little.

  His hand shook, and he tightened his fingers around hers. “Have you thought about what that might look like?”

  She shook her head, then stopped, and nodded. “Yes, actually. But I don’t want to pressure you.”

  Maybe it was time for a little pressure. “Try me.”

  “There are two bedrooms here,” she said faintly, almost smiling. The deja vu was weird.

  But where she hadn’t cared about separate rooms in Spain, he grabbed on to the offer like it was a life preserver. “I could spend more time here.”