Ethan.
She sucked in her breath as she came face-to-face with the man who'd made such sweet love to her-was it only last night?
The stared at each other, neither attempting to speak. Finally the crooked position of her neck forced her to turn back. Damn the cast. Damn the fact she couldn't move worth a damn.
She was spooned against Ethan and his arms hung over her waist, holding her close against his chest. Slowly, he moved his arm. The bed dipped, and to her disappointment he got up.
Again she tried to roll over, but she came up short when she saw he was simply going to the other side of the bed.
He climbed onto the mattress and lay back down. This time they faced each other, and she saw the horrible uncertainty in his eyes.
For some reason it comforted her. She could take uncertainty-God knew she was riddled with it. What she couldn't take was seeing the loss of hope.
He finally broke the silence. "How are you feeling? Is your arm hurting? I have more pain medication for you."
She glanced down at her arm. It did hurt, but she didn't want to zone out on medication again. There was too much that needed to be addressed.
"Has Sean found out anything?"
She could start there, avoid the topic of her marriage for just a little while. The mere thought of going back there squeezed her chest so tight it was hard to breathe.
"Quite a bit," Ethan said. "The FBI is arresting Senator Castle as we speak."
Her mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide. "Just based on what I said?"
Ethan grimaced. "No, baby. You aren't the most credible witness because of the holes in your memory. The men Sean had in custody rolled on him. They're arresting him for conspiracy to commit murder. Your murder. The drug trafficking, the deal with the cartel, his hand in your disappearance . . . that will have to come later as they build a case against him.
"The three assassins all want to cut deals, so they're spilling their guts. The important thing is Castle will be in jail."
"So it's over," she murmured. "After a year, it's finally over."
He thumbed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead.
"Yeah, baby. It's over."
She swallowed hard, gathered her courage and looked him directly in the eyes. "And what about us? Are we over?"
His gaze looked so haunted. There were deep shadows under his eyes. The bandage on his head had been removed, and it looked like there were stitches in the cut at his hairline.
He touched her cheek, and his fingers shook against her skin. His breath stuttered erratically from his chest, and she realized just how hard he was trying to keep it all together.
"I've been the driving force in our relationship for way too long. I push, you give. I destroy and you suffer. I alone decided the course of our marriage a year ago when I shoved those papers at you and watched you fall apart. It's time that you decided what is best for you."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. He sucked in a deep breath through flared nostrils, and his eyes went shiny with unshed tears.
"I love you, Rachel. More now than ever. I want another chance. God, I want it so bad. I'd do anything for it, but I won't force you into a bad decision. I want us to be together. I want us to laugh and love for the next fifty years. I want a marriage like my mom and dad's. I want to wake up every single morning with you in my arms. I don't want us to go away."
"What about the SEALs? You weren't happy leaving."
"No," he admitted. "I wasn't. I quit because I thought it was what I needed to do."
"Can you go back?"
He smiled and traced a line around her mouth. "Sam wants me to work for KGI. He's wanted me to ever since I resigned my commission, but I was too damn stubborn and I was too busy being pissed off at the world. You and I need to talk about what that means, but I like the idea. My brothers are pains in the ass, but there's no one I'd trust more with my back. Or yours."
She lay there for a moment, imagining what their future might be like. Their issues wouldn't be solved overnight. It would take a lot of hard work and patience. She wasn't 100 percent yet. Maybe she'd never be.
"I could go see that therapist again," she blurted. "She wasn't too bad."
"We have all the time in the world to make things right with you and with us," Ethan said gently.
Hearing it put that way, some of her anxiety melted away. The tension so embedded in her shoulders lessened, and she relaxed into the pillows.
They did have time. No one said everything had to be perfect tomorrow or even the next day. They could take it one day at a time. Together.
Together.
Never had she imagined her life without Ethan. She didn't want to. They'd both made mistakes, and they deserved a second chance. He was right. God had given them-their marriage-a second chance. It was a wonderful gift and one she intended to cherish.
Feeling at peace with her decision, she snuggled farther into Ethan's embrace. She turned her face into his neck and whispered, "I love you."
He stiffened, every muscle in his body so tight she could feel the tension emanating from him. Then a great shudder rolled through him, and he pressed his lips to her hair.
"I love you too, baby. God, I love you. I thought I'd lost you. I thought this time I wouldn't get you back."
He shook against her, and she closed her eyes against the tears stinging her lids.
"We can work it out, Rachel. Just give me a chance. I'll make you happy this time."
She pulled away and stared up into a face that was harsh with emotion, his eyes red, his cheeks tear-ravaged. She touched his damp skin, and her heart squeezed with love.
"I want both of us to be happy this time," she whispered.
He leaned down. His lips met hers in a warm, sweet rush. It was a seeking kiss. That of two lovers finding their way back to each other after a long, winding road apart.
She could see the two separate paths converging into one. Though she couldn't foresee the many inevitable bumps and curves that lay ahead, she was sure of one thing. They'd make the journey together.
CHAPTER 42
"I can't wait to get this cast off," Rachel complained. "It's about to drive me crazy."
Ethan smiled as he poured them each a cup of coffee. He glanced over to see his wife sitting at the table that overlooked their backyard, newspaper spread out in front of her. But it wasn't the paper that held her attention. She'd unbent a metal clothes hanger and was trying to insert the end up her cast to ease her itch.
His wife.
He'd never get tired of using the word. Of hearing it. Of thinking it.
"You're going to stab a hole in your arm with that," he said mildly as he set her coffee in front of her. "You'll probably get lead poisoning too. Or maybe lockjaw. Is it rusty?"
She glared at him for a moment and then laughed as she tossed the hanger aside.
"It itches and I can't make it stop."
He leaned forward and kissed her, savoring the brief, casual contact. It felt so normal and so old fogie, the kind of kiss couples share after being together for so long. He loved that sensation of comfort with her even if they hadn't hurdled all their obstacles yet. They were getting there, and that was the important part.
"You only have a few more hours until your appointment, and if all goes well and the X-rays are good, the cast comes off."
She sipped at her coffee and sank back in her chair with a sigh. "I can't wait."
She set her coffee down and pushed the paper toward him. "Did you see the headlines? Looks like our pal Castle is going away for a very long time."
Ethan scowled and crumpled the edge of the newspaper in his fist as he scanned over the article. He wanted the bastard to die for what he did, but in typical fashion the former senator had cut a deal. Not that it was going to do him much good. He'd still be in prison a very long time.
Ethan harbored some pretty vicious fantasies in which Castle got stuck with a bunch of inmates who rated politicians on the same scale as child molesters and acted accordingly.
Rachel continued to drink her coffee, her gaze focused on the landscape she'd supervised over the last several weeks. Ethan had worked tirelessly to turn the yard around. Between Rachel and his mother, he swore he'd worked less in the military.
Amusement twinkled in Rachel's eyes, and he wondered what she was thinking. Her memory still wasn't 100 percent. Far from it, but she seemed to regain more of it with each passing day. The more she regained her health and ridded herself of the residual effects of the drugs she'd been dependent on for so long, the more she seemed to remember.