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Second Chance With Her Army Doc
Dianne Drake


Can a chance reunion……rekindle an old flame?Heart surgeon Sloane Manning and army doc Carter Holmes were the perfect couple. Until Carter walked away, leaving Sloane heartbroken. Determined to finally move on, Sloane heads off for a desert vacation—only to find Carter’s there too! He’s still as ruggedly gorgeous and irresistibly charming as she remembers, but there’s a pain in his eyes Sloane must uncover before they can recapture what they once had…







Can a chance reunion...

Rekindle an old flame?

Heart surgeon Sloane Manning and army doc Carter Holmes were the perfect couple. Until Carter walked away, leaving Sloane heartbroken. Determined to finally move on, Sloane heads off for a desert vacation, only to find Carter’s there, too! He’s still as ruggedly gorgeous and irresistibly charming as she remembers, but there’s a pain in his eyes Sloane must uncover before they can recapture what they once had...


Starting with non-fiction, DIANNE DRAKE penned hundreds of articles and seven books under the name JJ Despain. In 2001 she began her romance-writing career with The Doctor Dilemma. In 2005 Dianne’s first Medical Romance, Nurse in Recovery, was published, and with more than twenty novels to her credit she has enjoyed writing ever since.


Also by Dianne Drake (#u0da0b8af-1494-53ab-a305-16aa83793a03)

Tortured by Her TouchDoctor, Mummy…Wife?The Nurse and the Single DadSaved by Doctor DreamyBachelor Doc, Unexpected Dad

Sinclair Hospital Surgeons miniseries

Reunited with Her Army DocHealing Her Boss’s Heart

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Second Chance with Her Army Doc

Dianne Drake






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07540-4

SECOND CHANCE WITH HER ARMY DOC

© 2018 Dianne Despain

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To soldiers all around the world who came home

only to find the greater battle was still ahead of them.

And to Bill, who lost the battle.


Contents

Cover (#u5704008e-a022-57dd-9c1a-587ca403597a)

Back Cover Text (#u74c60f7a-71bf-51e8-8908-9066c3c66425)

About the Author (#u648e8fda-3ffe-5a11-a903-a1e007996d39)

Booklist (#u26889472-d12b-5434-b624-6470cfb65994)

Title Page (#u870dbe63-2b23-59b3-996f-6921cbc03600)

Copyright (#u930cf55b-9ece-5d11-8ff1-b6788ea4ac27)

Dedication (#u5a555d03-e183-539d-88d0-a651ed1b05b4)

PROLOGUE (#u8b34a373-a3d0-5d4e-a7ff-ca5aaeed65bc)

CHAPTER ONE (#u81b3a233-f629-5076-ab88-0507db11a3e8)

CHAPTER TWO (#u18038f9e-1a91-5b8f-98c7-42e81d29fbb7)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE (#u0da0b8af-1494-53ab-a305-16aa83793a03)

THE SAND BETWEEN her toes tickled, and the moon was so bright it was as if someone had hung it on the beach just for them.

Carter always had these romantic ideas—seeing the vineyards of Napa Valley from a hot air balloon; a resort spa weekend when they’d have grapeseed massages and sip champagne in a hot mineral spring tub on their private patio, separating their world from everything else; joining in a celebration of light with a Chinese lantern inscribed with their names, sent into the nighttime sky along with hundreds of others.

And tonight, dancing on the beach in the moonlight. Feeling the gentle lapping of the water on their ankles as the tide trickled in. Seeing the far-off harbor lights twinkle against the black sky. Listening to the night birds searching for their evening meal.

“Are youchilly?” Carter asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Sloane replied, snuggling even closer into his arms.

She was always fine when he held her like this. In his arms—that was where she was meant to be.

“Maybe we should leave?”

Maybe they should, but she didn’t want to. Not yet.

These opportunities with Carter were scarce, due to conflicting work schedules, and she wanted every scrap of every minute right where she was, before they had to go back.

“Or, maybe we should stay,” she countered, her body rocking so sensuously against his she knew that even when they got to their room the night would be far from over. “Just for another few minutes.”

Carter chuckled as he pushed the wild copper hair from her face, then bent to kiss her on the neck. “Are you sure?” he whispered, just above a kiss.

The goosebumps started immediately. They always did with Carter. And she shivered...

“See... I knew you were chilly.” He gave her another kiss in the same spot, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses along her neck, ending at her jaw. “But I know where it’s warm...”

In his arms. Anywhere. Anytime.

“Maybe we should go back,” she whispered, a little sad that their dance had ended.

She loved Carter’s spontaneity—loved the way he would simply push everything aside just to spend what little time they could together.

Last weekend a climb in the canyons. Before that scuba diving. Restaurants. Vineyards and wine-tasting. Bicycling at dusk on a coastal boardwalk, then stopping for coffee and watching the sunset.

Their moments together were so few, and yet when they did find those moments nobody else in the world existed. It was just the two of them, making the most of what they had.

“It’s warm right here in your arms,” said Sloane, her voice breathy with desire. She didn’t want to change a moment of this, but she also didn’t want to change a moment of what Carter had planned for the evening. “So one more dance, please?”

“One more,” he said, then bent to her ear. “Then it’s my turn to dance my way.”

More goosebumps. Another shiver.

“Maybe we should save the dance on the beach for another time and go see what your dance is about.”

“You know what my dance is about,” he said as he scooped her up into his arms. “It’s the dance that’s as old as time.”

She loved it when he carried her. While she wasn’t particularly large, he was all muscle. Built ruggedly. Built just to fit her.

“Will there be wine?” she asked.

“If that’s what you want.”

There would also be white rose petals and candles, and strawberries dipped in chocolate. The reason she knew this was that she’d peeked at the bill. She hadn’t meant to, but he’d left it on the dresser when he’d gone out for ice, and she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Carter was always full of so many surprises—all of them for her, even if she did cheat a little in her excitement to find out. But he always made her feel like Christmas—the anticipation, the build-up of excitement, the dreaming of what he would do next.

Yes, even on the few instances she’d taken a peek, like she just had, and like she’d done when she was a little girl. Only then her dad had hidden packages of dolls and games and princess crowns, where Carter hid the little romantic things that caused her heart to beat faster—coupon books redeemable any time for kisses, hugs, making love...poems he’d written—not always good but definitely from his heart—and selfies of the two of them he’d had blown up and framed. There were at least three dozen of them on the hall wall leading to their bedroom.

But tonight there would be no selfies for what he had in store. Or maybe just one, with the two of them cuddled in the sheets. Yes, that would be nice—if she remembered. Because Carter had a way of making her forget everything but the moment.

“Are you going to be a brute and kick the door in?” she asked as they approached their room, she still in his arms.

“Oh, I’m going to be a brute—but it has nothing to do with the door.”

Of course he wasn’t going to be a brute. He was gentle in every way a man could be gentle, and as he lowered her to the bed and she held out her arms to him...

Sloane gasped, and bolted up in bed. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was actually crying in her sleep for him. For them. And tonight had been no different from when she’d had the same dream before. Night after night of it, then week after week, in one version or another.

Sometimes they’d make it to their room; sometimes they’d never even get off the beach. But there was never an ending—just the way she and Carter hadn’t had a real ending.

Six years together and all she had left of him was a small jar of shrapnel from his injuries.

Dr. Sloane Manning swiped back angry tears, painful tears, then reached for her phone and punched in a number. “Yes,” she said, when the party on the other end answered. “I’d like to make a reservation for one.”

One. She almost choked on the word. She was going alone to a place she and Carter had always planned to explore together when they had the time. Well, she had the time, and most of that time was about to be invested in moving on.

“I’ll be in sometime tomorrow. Best room you’ve got, please.” Next came her credit card number, then she was set. Maybe a good hike in the desert and some nice, hard rock-climbing would snap her out of her funk.

Or maybe it wouldn’t. In any case, she was going once she’d cleared her schedule with her dad, who would make sure she was covered for the next few days. Or weeks. Either one. Because right now the last thing on her mind was surgery—which wasn’t the best situation for her patients. They deserved all of her, and she wasn’t even sure that if she was put back together she’d all be all there. So maybe going out and trying to find some of those missing pieces of herself was exactly what she needed. Because she couldn’t go on like this: not with the dreams, the tears, the broken heart...


CHAPTER ONE (#u0da0b8af-1494-53ab-a305-16aa83793a03)

“SO, AFTER YOU left Sloane, then what?” Matt McClain asked his old Army buddy Carter Holmes.

Carter cringed at the memory of how he’d left her. With a text.

Sorry, I can’t do this any longer. I’ve got to go find myself on my own.

Sloane Manning had done everything in her power to help him. She’d come to Germany for his surgeries and stayed at his bedside for days, until he was well enough to be shipped home. Then, at home, she’d put aside practically every aspect of her own life just to help him through.

She’d found different treatment options for PTSD, and she’d stood by him when her father had hired him back at Manning Hospital, even though he clearly hadn’t been ready for the stress. And she’d stood by him again when her father had suspended him for any number of the little infractions he’d incurred in his first six months back.

He’d done nothing to jeopardize a patient. Quite the opposite. He’d done everything to jeopardize his career. Insubordination. Tardiness. Bad attitude all along.

“I found a program that seemed like it might work for me. Sloane’s idea was something more traditional—like seeing a counselor or group therapy. But, that’s not me. So, I looked for something else.”

“And...?” Matt asked.

“I completed the first part. Did pretty well, all things considered. And my counselor there said there was excellent hope for my future. So now they’ve put me on a waiting list for the next part of the program, and with any luck I’ll be called within the next couple of months. They give you a little time off between parts one and two, to make sure part one has taken. So...that’s why I’m here, asking for a job. I need to keep myself busy until I go back to Tennessee. I need to keep my mind on the things I can control, and not on the things I can’t.”

“Sounds like it’s working,” Matt said.

“It is. It’s a slow process, but little by little it’s helping me define who I am again.”

He and Matt had been trapped in a cave in Afghanistan when, for whatever reason, he’d snapped. Left the cave and run head-first into gunfire. He’d got hit pretty hard. Lost a kidney and a spleen as a result. Damaged his other kidney as well. Matt had risked his life to leave the relative safety of that cave to save him.

“It’s a bear rescue facility. I’ll work with bear cubs—rescue them if they’re abandoned or injured, take care of them and, if they’re able to return to the wild, get them prepared to do that. That’s the hands-on part of the program. The first part was doing pretty much the same thing for myself—retraining for life in the world again. Making sure I have what it will take to work with the bears later on. It’s an amazing program. Gives you a different kind of responsibility and helps you find yourself inside that responsibility.”

Matt whistled. “Bears... I would have never guessed.”

“Just the little black bear variety. Not ready to tackle the grizzlies yet.” Carter chuckled. “And I’m the one who never even had a dog.”

“Well, it seems to be agreeing with you.”

“I hope it is,” Carter said in all seriousness. “I can’t live my life never knowing when something’s going to trigger me. It’s hell. It’s also why I had to leave Sloane. She was always there, ready to help me. Maybe too much. Plus, I was breaking her heart.”

Carter looked over Matt’s shoulder, out the roadhouse window to the vast expanse of desert beyond them. So big, so empty. So—lonely. That was how he’d felt most of the time. Especially in the early days. Now, while he still wasn’t better, he could see clearly enough to make distinctions about the reality of his situation. It wasn’t great, but with another year or so in therapy it would improve. That was what he was aiming for, anyway.

“Anyway, I’m hoping that you can give me something to do for a while.”

They were sitting in a corner booth at the Forgeburn Roadhouse, Matt drinking a beer, Carter drinking fizzy water. Booze had become a real problem in the last year. So had drugs. And while that was part of his past now, since falling off the wagon meant getting kicked out of the program, there’d been a few times he’d come close. But so far he hadn’t indulged in those things since he’d left Sloane.

What was the point? Getting drunk only drove him deeper into depression. And getting high, while it may have caused him to forget momentarily, always sent him crashing back to reality, usually feeling worse than he’d felt before. It was a horrible feeling, always knowing how close to the edge he was and afraid of what might push him over.

“I don’t come with a lot of guarantees these days, but I’m still a damned good doctor. That’s probably the only thing I can count on.”

“It’s what I’m counting on too, Carter.”

“Anyway, if you still think I’m worth taking a chance on, I’m yours until I get the call from The Recovery Project. And, like I mentioned when I called you last week, if I graduate from the program and you want me back, I’ll be here.”

No, it wasn’t general surgery. But he wasn’t up to that yet. Too many things to go wrong. Too many lives depending on his wavy blade. But being a good old country doctor would keep him in the profession and, hopefully, keep him out of trouble.

“Do you really think you can make the transition from being a surgeon to being a GP?”

“There are a lot of things in my life I have to change—including my attitude. And while in the long term I don’t know how well I’ll adjust to life outside the OR, in the short term I know I can’t go back to that right now. Maybe never again. I don’t know yet.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Matt said, tilting his mug back for the last sip of beer. “Last time I saw you, you were yelling at Sloane because you couldn’t find your boots. It was pretty intense.”

“She took a lot of abuse from me.”

That was something he couldn’t forgive in himself. He’d loved that woman more than life itself, but because she’d always been there she’d become the target for all his pent-up emotions. The anger would build up in him, and Sloane would be the one who took the impact of it.

“And it kept on getting worse.”

“Any chance you two could get back together?”

Carter shook his head. “PTSD is a life sentence. I may learn how to cope with it, even divert it, but there’s never going to be a time when it’s not waiting just below the surface. I can’t take the risk of hurting her more than I already have.”

“But you feel confident you can take on the part of my practice we’ve discussed? Because I can’t keep an eye on you all the time. Like I told you before, my practice is growing, and I have a family to take care of. You’re like a brother to me, but I can’t look over your shoulder every minute of every day. So I need to feel good about turning you loose on the tourists, because that whole part of my practice can be a problem. You won’t be treating permanent patients but rather patients who are here for only a few days. You won’t have medical histories on them, and you might run into pre-existing conditions that they haven’t divulged to you. There’ll be all kinds of obstacles in taking on the tourist segment of my practice, and everything’s going to be up to you. I’ll be around if you need me, but for the most part you’ll be on your own. Can you manage that?”

Doctor to the tourists in the many resorts near Forgeburn, Utah. He’d never been a GP, so it was going to be a challenge. But since he never backed down from a challenge this would probably work for him. He hoped so. Because he was ready to turn his life around. This living from moment to moment was killing him.

“My counselors think I can, or they wouldn’t have sent that recommendation to you.”

“But what do you think, Carter?”

“That I’m going to try my damnedest. Like I’ve told you already, I can’t predict anything—can’t even make any solid promises. But I want this to work, Matt. For you, because I owe you my life. And for me, because I want some kind of life back. A lot of people with PTSD don’t get the opportunity you’re giving me, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“And what about Sloane? I know you two aren’t together now, but have you talked to her about any of this?”

“No. The less involvement she has with me, the better it is for her.”

That was the half-truth he always used to convince himself he’d done the right thing in leaving her. She’d taken care of him in the early days. Or tried, when he’d let her. She’d been patient and kind. But he’d given up. Backed away. He hadn’t left her any choice other than to accept what he’d done—which was to leave.

“After she waited all those years for you, you’re not going to try and get her back? Because, next to my Ellie, Sloane is probably the best woman I’ve ever known. I can’t believe you can simply walk away from her the way you did and never look back.”

“Oh, I look back—but all I can see are regrets. Mine. Hers. I can’t go back, Matt. She deserves better than that. Better than me.”

“And she’s told you that?”

No, she had not. But it was what he’d known almost from his first day home.

“I was beating her down. You could see it in her. Day by day, piece by piece, I was taking everything she had away from her. I mean, she’s a brilliant heart surgeon, and such a good person, but I was sucking the life out of her and I hated that. But for Sloane it was like the poet Poe said in his Annabelle Lee: ‘And this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.’That’s all she wanted, Matt. To love me and have me love her back. But it wasn’t in me anymore.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Me too—in more ways than I probably even know.”

And in so many ways that he did know. Ways that kept him awake at night. Ways that reduced him to tears when his thoughts wouldn’t be shut off.

“So, like I said, she’s better off without me.”

“And you? Are you better off without her?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as she’s not part of my life anymore.”

“What is your life, Carter? Other than the job I’m giving you here, what is your life?”

“Damned if I know. But when I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“That bad?” Matt asked.

“That bad,” he said in earnest. “Hopefully getting better, though.”

“Because of your bear rescue program?”

Carter smiled. “Because of what I hope I can do to make my little part of the program successful.”

“Well, that’s the attitude I’m looking for.” Matt extended his hand across the table to Carter. “So, welcome to Forgeburn’s only medical practice.”

Carter took Matt’s hand, wondering if this was too much, too soon. He was still on a high from the success he’d seen in the first part of his recovery program, but would that be enough to the job that needed to be done here?

For a while he’d ridden the crest of the self-confidence wave, but now he was underneath it. That was PTSD, though, wasn’t it? Always trying to rob you of yourself. Always chipping away at the bits and pieces that seemed to be moving forward.

There was a time when his normal reaction would have been to say, I’ve got this. Now, though, he wasn’t sure what he had—and that was what scared him. Before PTSD, nothing ever had. Now, almost everything did.

But this was the opportunity he needed. So it was time to put one foot forward and hope he could stay there for a while.

“When do you want me to start?”

* * *

Sloane Manning looked at the text messages on her phone, then at her phone messages. Still nothing. She’d been trying to call Carter for weeks. At least once a day. Sometimes twice. Not that there was much to say at this point. But she was concerned. Six years of her life had gone into that man—most of it waiting while he was in the military—and it wasn’t easy to detach herself from the life she’d expected to have by now.

After her father had dismissed Carter from his job at the hospital he’d disappeared. Hadn’t packed anything to speak of. Hadn’t said goodbye or even left a note other than a vague text message. The only thing that had told her Carter was gone was that their apartment—her apartment—seemed so hollow and cold now. She hated being there. Hated being by herself there. Because it was their home, not hers.

Which was why she was moving back in with her dad when she got back from this two-week vacation. She’d waited long enough for Carter to make a move. But after three months it was clear he wasn’t going to do that. In fact she didn’t even know where he was. He’d been in Vegas for a while, but after that...

So here she was at the airport, ready to board a plane to one of the places she and Carter had always talked about. She was ready to give herself some good, hard physical licks in the canyons and the desert. Ready to start over on her own.

“Dr. Sloane Manning,” the attendant at the desk called over the loudspeaker. “Last call for Dr. Sloane Manning.”

Hearing her name startled her out of her thoughts, and almost in a panic she grabbed up her carry-on bag and ran toward the check-in before the loading gate shut.

“Sorry about that,” she said to the attendant. “I was...”

What? Daydreaming about a romance gone bad? Everybody had one, didn’t they? So why would the gate attendant care about hers?

“I was preoccupied.”

The gate attendant made it clear that she didn’t care, and that all she wanted was to get Sloane on the plane and start focusing on the next group of passengers, already filing in to catch the next flight.

So, Sloane hustled herself through, took her seat in the third row of the first-class section, leaned her head back against the headrest and hoped people would assume her to be asleep and leave her alone. The way Carter had done the last few months of their relationship. She in one bedroom, he in the other. Barely talking when they met in the hall. Barely even acknowledging each other’s existence unless it was absolutely necessary.

With her eyes shut she could visualize everything. The apathy. The temper. The outrage. But most of all the pain. She could still feel it burrowing in, winding its corkscrew tentacles around every fiber of her being.

“Still no luck?” Gemma Hastings, Sloane’s surgical assistant, had asked, when she’d informed her people early that morning that she’d be gone for a couple of weeks.

“It’s done,” she’d told her. “I’ve hung on too long and too hard. It’s time to get myself sorted and start moving in a new direction.”

What that direction was, she didn’t know. But if she didn’t move in some other direction soon, she was afraid she might never move at all. Her friends, even her dad, had been telling her this was what she needed to do. So, after three months she was finally taking their advice. She was taking some metime to readjust.

As for loving Carter—tossing that away wouldn’t be as easy as stepping onto a plane and hiding out for a while. Still, what was the point in worrying about him when he didn’t worry about himself? Or worry about them?

That was the worst of it. He’d given up on them. And quite easily. But here she was, still hanging on. Why? Maybe her feelings for Carter were some sort of remnant, left over from the days when she’d first fallen in love with him, when he had been kind and good, and the best surgeon she’d ever seen. Maybe her love was nothing more than an old habit she didn’t know how to break.

Because she still loved him?

That was the question she didn’t want to answer, because the answer might scare her. Falling in love with one man, then watching him turn into someone else she didn’t even recognize had been tough. Trying to stay in love with the man he’d turned into had been even tougher, because there had still been parts of the Carter she’d known left and she’d been able to see them struggling to get out.

But she’d also been able to see Carter struggling to keep them locked away.

She thought about the day they’d met. She’d already heard about him from her father.

“He’s supposed to be the best of the best,” Harlan Manning had said. “Good at everything he does and full of adventure—which he says keeps him from getting dull.”

“Will he fit in here?” she’d asked her dad. “We’re a conservative little surgery in most regards. Everybody knows everybody else. There’s never any in-fighting, the way I saw it going on during my residency in Boston.”

Generally everybody got along, did their jobs, and walked away contented. But from the description of Carter Holmes she’d had some qualms, because he’d seemed so—out there. He liked big sports—skydiving, mountain-climbing, motorcycling. And he liked the ladies.

That was only his personal reputation—which she totally forgot when she first laid eyes on him. Carter was tall, muscular. Deep, penetrating gray eyes. Dark brown hair, short-cut in a messy, sticking-out style which looked so good on him. Three days’ growth of dark stubble which had made her go weak in the knees, imagining what it would feel like on her skin. And that smile of his...

OMG, it could knock a girl off her feet, it was so sexy.

He’d put all that masculinity to good use, too, asking the hospital owner’s daughter out after only knowing her for five minutes.

Of course she’d said yes. What else could she have done? She’d been smitten at first sight, sexually attracted at second, and in love at third. Well, maybe not real love. But that had come about pretty quickly when, after their first evening together, Carter never went home. Not the next day either, or the day after that. In fact by the third day he had totally moved in to her tiny apartment, making himself right at home as if he’d always been there.

“For what it’s worth, Sloane, Carter was crazy about you,” her assistant had said. “Everybody could see that. So maybe if he gets himself straightened out...”

“If,” she’d responded. “Not going to hold my breath on that one.”

But she was. Every minute of every hour of every day. And it was causing her to be distracted in her operating room. Distraction and heart surgery didn’t mix, and if it continued, she’d either have to step down from her position voluntarily, or her father—in his position as chief—would remove her. He didn’t play favorites when it came to patient care, and she was included in that. So, her distraction could conceivably cost her her job. Which was why she had to get away to sort it out. And maybe Forgeburn, Utah, wasn’t the hub of the universe, but it was beautiful, according to Matt McClain, an old friend.

She’d met him through Carter, and liked him right off. He lived in Forgeburn now, so why not visit? Maybe Matt would have a different insight into Carter than she did.

So, her goal was to sort it out, get over it, then get back to a life where she was in control of herself again—her life as it had been before Carter’s PTSD. She’d had goals then: becoming the head of cardiac surgery at Manning, having a family, a beautiful life. Then PTSD had happened and everything had changed.

“Thank you, Carter Holmes,” she whispered as the pilot announced it was time to prepare for landing. “Thank you for nothing.”

* * *

Matt’s clinic was a few miles away. He’d made that perfectly clear. Which was fine, because it was time for Carter to see if his own two feet would hold him up again.

For that he needed space—and Forgeburn, Utah, had plenty of that. He also needed to be successful here, because getting back to his recovery program was contingent upon that. If he succeeded here, he moved forward in the program. If he failed, he moved back to square one and started all over. If he was lucky.

Being kicked out of the program was a setback Carter didn’t want. What was more, if he got sent back to the beginning, did he have enough left in him to fight his way through it again? He didn’t trust himself enough to believe he could.

Of course he did have a job in medicine again, a place to stay, and a small salary. Life wasn’t great, but it was better, and apologizing to his best buddy was the first step in what he hoped would be many more steps in the right direction.

But not in Sloane’s direction. That much he was sure of.

“This will be fine,” he said to Dexter Doyle, the owner of what had to be the worst hotel within a hundred miles.

So here he was in his new home—one room with a double bed, a toilet, mini-fridge, microwave, desk and chair—all of it dated. It wasn’t the best place he’d ever stayed, but not the worst either. Maybe it was more like a reflection of his life. All the right equipment, but all of it dated—almost to the point of no recognition. Well, he was the one who’d walked out on the best living situation he’d ever had, so he couldn’t really complain.

“Is there a liquor store around here?” he asked, tossing his duffle bag on the bed, hoping bed bugs wouldn’t scurry out.

“A couple miles up the road.”

“And a television?” Carter asked, noticing the room didn’t have one.

“Out for repair.”

“I don’t suppose you offer a wake-up call?”

He remembered the way Sloane had used to wake him up. Always with a smile, and a kiss, and a cup of coffee. Often a whole lot more. Her touch. Her red hair brushing across his face. The mintiness of her breath when she kissed him. Yes, those were the mornings he’d loved waking up.

Dexter pointed to the old digital clock next to the bed. “If you want to wake up, set the alarm.”

“Well, then...” Carter said, sitting down on the bed to test it. As he’d suspected, lumpy and saggy. “Looks like I’m home.” For a while, anyway.”

But he was anxious to return to Tennessee, so he could work toward the next part of his life—whatever that turned out to be.

Upwards and onwards, he thought as he settled into his room. Things were looking up. Especially now that he wasn’t around Sloane any longer. So, on the one hand he liked the feeling of freedom and the optimism that went with it. But on the other he missed his life with Sloane.

It was an ache that had left a hole that would never be filled. But for Sloane he had to endure it and follow the course. More than that, he had to get used to the ache—because she couldn’t be part of him anymore. Not in a real sense. In an emotional sense. However, he’d never let her go. Not now. Not ever. Falling in love with her the way he had didn’t leave room for anything or anyone else. Meaning his destiny was set. And it was going to be a lonely one.

For Sloane, though...he’d do anything.

* * *

Next morning, when Carter surveyed his new office, he was neither pleased nor displeased with it; he was mainly ambivalent. That was the way so many of his days seemed to go, unless he made a hard effort to fight through it.

This morning he hadn’t started his fight yet. It would happen, though. Once he got himself involved he’d find his way through, instead of dwelling somewhere in the middle of it like he’d used to do.

He took another look at it his office. It was basic, but well-equipped. Spotlessly clean, with fresh paint. The white on every wall put him off a little, but color really didn’t matter when the basic medical tools were at his disposal.

The truth was, it wasn’t a bad little office, all things considered. Two exam rooms, a spacious storage closet, a reception area and an office. Matt would subsidize his rent at the hotel and the office for now, and then if Tennessee worked out for him, and he was good enough to come back here full time, he would take over the costs himself and buy out this part of Matt’s practice.

If things didn’t work that way... Well, he didn’t know what came after that. As he’d been told, over and over, by his recovery counselor, “Take it one day at a time, and strive to make that day the best day ever.”

In other words, he was not to mess up his mind with the future when getting through the current day was never guaranteed. It made sense—especially since he was given to projecting his future and that, so often, turned into a PTSD trigger.

Whenever it took him over he could almost feel the impending flare-up course through his veins. His vision blurred, his hands shook, his head felt as if it was ready to explode. He was like a fire-breathing dragon, puffing up and getting ready for his next battle.

Unfortunately Carter’s “next battle” had cost him dearly. His job, the love of his life... And now he was in Forgeburn, running a storefront clinic for seasonal tourists, and a handful of locals who lived closer to Carter’s part of the practice than Matt’s, keeping his fingers crossed that he’d survive this day and make it through till tomorrow.

On the door peg, in the room marked Office, hung a crisp new lab jacket. Carter smiled—maybe the first smile that had cracked his face in weeks or months.

At least he hadn’t lost his license to practice. That was good, despite the fact he’d lost everything else. He liked being a doctor. No, he loved being a doctor. It was all he’d ever wanted from the time he’d been a kid.

When all his friends had been vacillating between fireman, policeman and whatever else all little boys wanted to be at some point in their lives, being a doctor had been it for him, because he had wanted to find a way to cure his brother James. Carter had promised James he would, when he was nine and James had been on his last days, dying from cystic fibrosis.

Two years younger than Carter, James had spent his whole life in and out of hospitals. He’d never been strong enough to walk more than a few steps, and he’d never breathed well enough to go outside and play—not even for a few minutes. For James, life had been all tests and procedures, and somewhere in Carter’s nine-year-old mind he’d thought if he made a promise to save his brother and make him well it would happen. And it would give his entire family some hope to cling to.

But a week after his promise his dad had been sitting on the front step crying when Carter had arrived home from school. And after that, unlike his friends, who had gone back and forth on what they wanted to be, he never had. He’d been angry at the world for taking his brother. Angry at himself that he hadn’t been able to do more. Angry at the doctors who’d always predicted a grave outcome for his brother.

He’d expected them to do better. Expected them to produce a miracle. Expected them to offer hope rather than rip it away. Which was why he’d become a doctor—a surgeon. Because he wanted to do the things that hadn’t been done for his brother. Of course, the closer Carter had come to his goal, the more he’d realized that some outcomes would break his heart no matter what he did. That was part of the profession. But that hadn’t discouraged him, because many more outcomes were good. And it was those outcomes he always dedicated to his brother—without fail.

But now—well, now he was a GP. And he was grateful for that. Maybe it was the only thing left in his life he had to be grateful for, since he’d destroyed everything else that mattered.

“It’s nice,” Carter said to the twenty-something girl who’d been following him from room to room: Marcie, his new receptionist.

Her father owned the building and had seized the opportunity to lower the rent if the medical practice employed her. Apparently, Marcie had never worked a day in her life and this was to be her first ever job. Matt had hired her since, legally, this was his practice.

“Daddy had it painted fresh,” she said, her nose in her phone, scrolling, scrolling... Short skirt, long vest, tall boots, pinkish yellow hair... Not the professional image he’d hoped for. But a discount was a discount, and he’d have to make the best of his workforce virgin.

He actually chuckled. If his life weren’t so pathetic this could be funny. It wasn’t, though. Nobody could screw up so many things the way he had and call it funny. But, like he’d told Matt, he was a good doctor. That was the only sure thing he had to hang on to—his medical skills. Maybe—somehow—he wouldn’t mess those up, too.

“So, how about we open up for business tomorrow morning?” he asked Marcie.

Her reply was a head nod as she continued to scroll.

Who was it that had said something about fastening up for a bumpy ride? Well, this was his bumpy ride, but he wasn’t sure he was fastened up enough for it.

Time would tell, he supposed.


CHAPTER TWO (#u0da0b8af-1494-53ab-a305-16aa83793a03)

SO THIS WAS FORGEBURN. Sloane looked up and down the main drag, not sure whether she liked it or not. For sure, it was remote. And small. So small, in fact, that she could see both ends of town from her vantage point at the gas station in the middle.

It did have some appeal, she decided, as her gaze came to rest on a good-looking foothill that seemed as if it needed an experienced climber on it. It was red clay, not too steep, but steep enough that she knew her climbing skills—the skills Carter had taught her—would get her to the top. Something she would definitely do, since she was booked here in Forgeburn for the entire two weeks of her vacation.

Hiking the desert, climbing the rocks, dropping down into some of the canyons—these were all things she’d never done Before Carter, as she called it now. But they were things she loved doing now, along with scuba diving, parasailing, mountain biking, and so many other outdoor recreational activities.

She missed all those—missed doing them with Carter. Missed the way he’d congratulate her when she achieved something she’d never done before. First the congratulatory hug, then the congratulatory kiss, then the congratulatory run to the bedroom for the best congratulatory practice of all.

Yes, she missed all that. Missed the emotion and the elation. Missed the physical contact, even if it was a hug of condolence when she didn’t achieve what she’d set out to do.

So... Forgeburn—she could see why Carter had talked about it so much. They’d planned on a visit—something longer than the two or three days off they usually got. And here she was, with all the time in the world. But alone.

She could have gone someplace else. Anyplace else. And maybe she should have. But here, with so much to remind her of what she no longer had, maybe she would start to remind herself that she no longer had Carter either.

Sighing, Sloane finished pumping gas into her car, then took one more look around before she headed down the road to Red Rock Canyon Resort—her home away from home for the next two weeks. Right now she felt—nothing. Carter had told her he’d felt that way much of the time and now she finally understood it herself. It was so empty. So lonely.

Good move coming here? Or bad move?

Either way, she was here, and there was plenty to do—or nothing, if that was what she chose. Her real choice, however, wouldn’t happen, because that involved sleeping out under the stars somewhere, listening to the coyotes howl. Curling up with Carter in a single sleeping bag. Making love under the stars. And this evening promised a sky full of beautiful stars.

“Could you tell me if there are any evening hikes in the desert?” she asked the concierge as she checked in to the Red Rock Canyon Resort.

“We have one leaving in about an hour. It’s five miles, and it leads into the desert to explore various constellations that are visible only because there’s no city lighting getting in the way. But you must have your own hiking gear, as our rental facility is closed.”

“Sounds perfect to me. If there’s space, sign me up.”

“We have other less strenuous options in the morning,” said the concierge, Diego Sanchez. “Perhaps you’d rather wait, señorita?”

“No. I’d rather go tonight. And strenuous is good. Just what I need.”

“Then I’ll pass your name along to our tour guide. He’ll contact you shortly about the equipment you need to bring. You do have equipment, don’t you?”

Everything that Carter had ever bought her. She’d thought about throwing it all away and starting over, but for now it was all she had, and she hoped she would be able to use it without too many memories hiking along with her.

Even so, as she went to her room to get ready, memories were already creeping in—like how his temper had flared for no reason. When he’d panicked at an unexpected loud noise. And then there had been the nightmares, the flashbacks and triggers. And finally, a slow-growing lack of trust in her.

Before he’d gone into the Army he’d trusted her implicitly. When he’d come home he’d seemed wary of her at first. Then eventually mistrusting. That had maybe been the worst of everything. Planning a life with someone who didn’t trust her. That was when she’d started to wonder if she should, or could, go through with their marriage. Or simply put it on hold for a while.

After all, she’d already invested six years—what was another year or so on top of that?

Carter had answered that question by leaving before she’d had a chance to decide.

Up and down. That had been her life with Carter after he’d come home. That and her concern for his health, since he’d refused to see a nephrologist about his kidney condition. He’d needed to keep the remaining kidney healthy, but everything he’d done had seemed to contradict that.

Still, she’d stayed with him even when it had become clear that their feelings for each other were eroding, because she’d known who was underneath all that trauma—known the man he really was even though he hadn’t anymore. And because she’d loved him, and some of that love had still been hanging on for dear life.

In the end, though, love hadn’t been enough. And now here she was in Forgeburn, getting ready to look at the stars, hoping to find the one thing that would turn her in the direction that led her away from Carter once and for all. Because she sure wasn’t headed toward him now.

After lacing up her hiking boots, then tucking a few necessary supplies into the pockets of her cargo vest, Sloane looked at herself in the mirror. No wrinkles yet, which surprised her, with the way she worried. But there were bags under her eyes. Still cosmetically fixable, but there all the same. Yes, she definitely needed this vacation, she thought as she pulled her wild copper hair into a ponytail, then put a cap on her head.

“Ready,” she said to herself as she headed toward the door. But was she really? If it was rest she needed, and time to think, why was she already filling her schedule with activities.

Because if she kept herself busy she wouldn’t have to think. And sometimes thinking hurt too much.

* * *

“Are you a walk-in, or do you have an appointment?” the young girl at the desk asked Sloane, without looking up. The girl was buried in her phone.

“Walk-in. All I need are a few stitches for this cut on my leg.”

One of the other night hikers had knocked her into the face of a rather jagged rock in his enthusiasm to get a better look at Venus and Mars, which were less than a degree apart. He been all excited that Jupiter was also nearby.

It had been a beautiful sight, with Venus by far being the brightest of the three. Of course when she’d managed to distinguish Venus from the rest of the planets her mind had drifted off to something far less astrological. In fact she had been contemplating Venus as the Roman goddess of love, sexuality, beauty, prosperity and fertility when the night hiker had clipped her and sent her into an undignified sprawl.

Now she needed stitches and antibiotics.

She could have gone to see Matt, but he would be such a reminder that she wasn’t sure she was ready to face him. He and Carter had been so close once upon a time. Like brothers. But, like everything else with Carter, that friendship had died as well.

She would look Matt up. It was inevitable that she would see him at some point in her stay here. But not now—she wasn’t ready. So as soon as morning had forced her to open her eyes, she’d asked about the nearest doctor. She had been told there was a tourist doctor nearby, and where she could find his office, and now here she was, seeking medical care.

The young girl leaned over the desk to appraise the cut, then settled back down into her chair.

“I’ll put you on the list and he’ll see you as soon as...” She shrugged. “When he’s ready.”

It was a plain office. Not much to look at. No outdated magazines to read. But it was freshly painted. She could still smell the remnants of new paint.

“How long have you been here?” she asked the girl.

She looked up from her phone and said, “We’re new. Just opened.”

“Is the doctor Matt McClain?” she asked, hoping it was not.

“Nope. He takes care of the cowboys. We’re strictly here for the tourists, who get injured doing things like whatever it was you were doing that got you cut up.”

“Do you need my name for your records?” Sloane asked.

“Doc will take care of that.”

“Will he take care of my insurance papers as well?” This was an oddly run practice and she wondered what kind of doctor allowed it.

“Well, he won’t let me do them, so I guess it’s up to him.”

Definitely odd. And if she’d needed something more than stitches she’d probably have gone looking for Matt. But she was here now and, since there’d been no other cars in the parking lot, it shouldn’t be too long before she got called in.

She was right. Within another couple of minutes the receptionist gave her a wave to go on back, without so much as looking up from her phone.

So she took it upon herself to wander down the hall, find the exam room, then sit up on the exam table and wait. Another minute passed before she heard footsteps heading down the hall and her blood froze in her veins.

No, it couldn’t be. She knew those footsteps. Knew them by heart.

Consequently, when the doctor pushed open the door, Sloane’s head started to spin. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to hold back on her wobbly voice.

“Sloane? What are you doing here?” He closed the exam room door behind him but made no attempt to walk over to her.

“I asked you first,” she said.

“I’m trying to start over. Matt gave me a job here. He needed help, I needed help...so it worked out. Now you.”

“Vacation. I came here because—Well, I didn’t know you were here. Last I heard you were in Vegas.”

“Actually, Tennessee,” he said. “Vegas before that.”

“Now you’re here? Seriously?”

“As serious as it gets. So, I’m assuming you want me to stitch up that cut on your leg?”

She’d almost forgotten about that, she was so flustered. “It happened last night. I was out stargazing and met up with the sharp end of a rock.”

“Since when do you stargaze?” he asked, finally walking over to the exam table.

“Since last night.”

“And what did you learn?”

“That Venus shines the brightest and it’s best to stargaze on your own, or with a sure-footed friend.”

“Meaning...?”

“Meaning I did the tourist thing and now I’m paying for it. So, why here, Carter? I’m assuming Matt gave you an opportunity, but you’re clearly not working as a surgeon. More like what? A GP?”

“Exactly,” he said, as he bent to assess the cut.

“But you’ve never done that kind of work.”

“And you’ve never gone stargazing. So, I suppose we file it all under ‘first time’.” He looked up at her. “Everything has to start somewhere, doesn’t it?” Then he ran his hand down the calf of her leg.

Sloane shivered to his touch the way she always had. “Why are you touching me that way?” she asked. “We’re over. You quit touching me that way months ago.”

He took his hand off her leg, stood up and smiled.

“Actually, that was a perfectly good GP’s assessment. I wanted to make sure your leg wasn’t too warm, which might indicate an infection setting in.”

“I’m a doctor. I know to disinfect it.”

“And I’m a doctor, too. A doctor who’s trying his hardest to be a good doctor.”

“You always were good, Carter. Nobody ever questioned that. It was everything else that went with you...”

“My attitude?”

Sloane let out a deep sigh. She hadn’t come on vacation to start this whole thing over again. She was trying to get away from it. Sort it out and put it behind her. But how could she do that when Carter was here?

“I’ve said all there is to say about your attitude. So how about the stitches?”

“I’d prefer to butterfly it. Less chance of scarring.”

Butterfly stitches were not exactly stitches, but thin strips with an adhesive backing used to close small wounds.

“Oh, and when was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“Good on the butterfly stitches. Much better than needle and thread. And as for the tetanus shot...”

She shrugged her shoulders. She should know, but she didn’t. Like most people, she didn’t keep track of those sorts of things. Although she could have told him the exact date and time of the last gamma globulin shot he had taken.

It had happened because of a needle stick. One of his patients—a child—had got belligerent and whacked Carter a good one as he’d been trying to give the boy a shot to calm him down before an appendectomy. Carter had already administered a mild sedative when the boy had started flailing and caught Carter’s hand. The one with the used hypodermic needle still in it.

The puncture hadn’t been bad, or deep, but hospital policy had demanded a visit from the old gamma globulin needle to help give Carter a temporary boost in his immune system. Which had turned out to be a good thing since, as it had happened, the kid had been in the very early stages of chickenpox.

That had been one month and thirteen days before he’d shipped out to Afghanistan. So why did she remember that when she couldn’t remember her own last tetanus?

“No clue,” she told him, recalling the sexy way he’d dropped his pants so she could stick him in the butt with the needle. It had been slow, seductive, and it had definitely raised her libido a notch or two. In fact, had they not been in one of the hospital exam rooms, the way his pants had slid over his hips would have definitely led to something very unprofessional. And very good.

Even thinking about it caused heat to rush to her cheeks—and for a redhead that was a disaster, because it made her look like a beet.

“You OK?” he asked as he pulled the necessary supplies from a cabinet next to the exam table.

“Just tired. Which is why I came here.”

“Well, that color you’re wearing right now isn’t your I’m tired color. Normally that’s more pasty and white. In fact, as I recall, that color is your—”

“Just stop it, Carter! I didn’t come here to rehash old times. I need some stitches and a tetanus shot. If you can’t do that, I’ll go find Matt and ask him to.”

“He didn’t tell you I was here? Because what are the chances that you’d simply bump into me in the middle of nowhere?”

He picked up a bottle of disinfectant and squirted some on her leg.

“When I saw you sitting on my table I assumed you were here to find me.”

“Trust me, Carter. You’re the last person I wanted or expected to find here. And, no, Matt didn’t say a word.”

Which made her wonder if Matt was trying to get them back together. Surprise meeting in a desert in the middle of nowhere? Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe not. Right now, she didn’t care. She just wanted Carter to fix her leg so she could get out of there.

* * *

Carter hadn’t expected to see Sloane in Forgeburn, of all places, and now that she was here he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Stay away from her altogether? Allow a small amount of cordiality in? Just what was the etiquette here? What etiquette was involved in meeting up with the woman you’d loved for so long, then dumped?

He knew Sloane in every way one person could know another, so it wasn’t as if they were strangers caught up in a chance meeting. Something like that would have been easier to deal with. They could have shared general chit chat, a string of pleasantries, talked about the weather—except, Sloane deserved more than the weather forecast.

The problem was, he didn’t have more. Not for her, anyway. It was too difficult, too painful, and he didn’t want to go on hurting her over and over.

“The wound is clean and, as cuts go, the edges are good. So I’m going to use about ten butterflies, then wrap it in gauze. If you’re still here in a couple of days come back for a check. Or go to your own doctor when you get back home.”

Which he hoped she would do—go home. Today. Right now.

“I’m here for two weeks,” she said. “It’s the first vacation I’ve had since... Well—that week you were on leave from the Army. You came home and we took a cruise down to Mexico. What was that? Four years ago?”

He knew exactly when it had been, but he didn’t want memories of that week popping into his mind. It had been too nice, and they’d gotten so close. Closer than they’d been even after two years together. It was when he’d proposed to her. Well, it had been a pre-proposal—one of those If I were to ask you, would you marryme? sort of things.

It hadn’t been until almost two years later that he’d done the real asking. And then it had been by satellite hook-up. It had been her birthday, and her friends and family had been having a party. He’d been left out, of course, being overseas. So when they’d talked later that night the question had simply popped right out of him, surprising him almost as much as it had her.

Marriage had always been his intention, though. Women like Sloane didn’t come along every day, and he had been so head-over-heels crazy in love with her, almost at first sight, he hadn’t been about to lose her. But he’d wanted to wait until he got home and do the proposal the right way, on a romantic weekend on the beach, or maybe up in wine country.

Somehow he’d seen it happening at dawn, not dusk. They’d be strolling hand in hand, wherever they were, and when they stopped for a break he would pull an engagement ring box from his pocket. Or they would be having brunch, sipping mimosas, and he would discreetly slide the ring box across the table.

That had been the other Carter Holmes, though. The one who’d replaced him didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Even reminding himself of the things he’d thought before made his hands shake.

“I’m going to give you a prescription for an antibiotic. There’s a pharmacy about ten miles down the road. You can fill it there. If I remember correctly, you were allergic to—”

Damn, why did he have to remember so many things about her? He’d been trying not to since he’d left, and on good days he sometimes succeeded. Now, though, everything was coming back. More than he wanted. More than he could deal with.

“Penicillin,” Sloane said, sliding off the exam table then bending down to straighten out her pants. “So, how much do I owe you for today?” she asked as she straightened up and looked him directly in the eye.

“Really, Sloane? Do you think I’d charge you for this?”

“To be honest, I don’t know what you’d do. I didn’t expect you to leave me without an explanation, but you did. I didn’t expect you not to return my calls and texts for three months, but you did. I didn’t even expect you to join the Army, but you did. So, tell me... How am I supposed to anticipate your next move, Carter? How am I supposed to know what you will and will not do?”

“I know I didn’t do things the way I should have, but...”

But what? What was his excuse? He’d been doing it for her? She wouldn’t believe that, even though it was the truth.

“But what’s done is done, and I can’t go back and change things.”

“No, you can’t. Neither of us can.” She headed for the exam room door, then stopped and turned back to face him. “Look, us being here at the same time is a coincidence. But could we find some time when we could get together and talk? I have questions, Carter. And I deserve answers.”

“Let me figure out my schedule, then I’ll get back to you. Do you still have the same cell number?”

“I’m not the one who changed, Carter. You are. Yes, it’s still the same. I didn’t want to change it in case you actually did try to call or text me.”

During his few hazy weeks in Vegas the last thing he had wanted to do was return her calls and have her figure out that he was even deeper into the pit than he’d been before he’d left. His drinking had been worse. He’d been taking those pills. And gambling... All the things that had distracted him from what was real.

Then in Tennessee cell phones had been confiscated and handed back only for emergencies and once-a-week contact with family or a loved one. Since he’d had no family then, or even a loved one, there’d never been any reason to ask for his cell phone back for that one allotted hour.

“I wasn’t exactly in a position to reach out to anybody. It was rude, and I’m sorry, but that’s who I was then.”

“And not now?” she asked him before she left his office.

“It’s complicated, Sloane.”

And he couldn’t make promises, or even lead her in the direction of thinking that he might be getting better because he didn’t know if he was. Time would tell, he supposed. Time and new surroundings. But how could he tell her that? How could he tell her that she was part of the past he was running from?

* * *

“Life is complicated, Carter,” she said. “For everybody in some way.”

He sounded so—not bitter, more like apathetic. As if he’d given up or given himself over to his battle.

“So you’ve given up?”

“It’s called hitting rock bottom.” He took a couple steps toward her, then stopped, as if a barrier had been lobbed into his path. “And my choice is to not drag anybody else down with me.”

“You owe me an explanation, Carter.”

“For what? For losing one kidney and a spleen to shrapnel? Damaging my other kidney? For PTSD after too much gunfire, too much death, too many people to save that I couldn’t? Is that what you want to hear? Because if it is I’ve said it all before and look where it’s gotten me.”

She wanted to see some emotion—some of the old Carter trying to fight back. But what she saw in his face was—nothing. His eyes were blank. His expression resigned.

This wasn’t the Carter she’d used to know. Used to love. Not at all. This was a different man. One she didn’t understand. Couldn’t explain. One who seemed to be calculating every facial expression and every word. She’d been through so much with him, but this—it broke off another piece of her heart.

“You still drinking?” she asked him, not sure why she was even bothering.

He shook his head. “Gave up the pills, too. Momentary interruptions in my process are only that—momentary. Then it all comes back. So, what are you really doing here? Come to save me from myself?”

“I’m on vacation, like I told you.”

But she wondered if subconsciously she’d chosen Forgeburn not so much expecting to find him here but to be closer to a part of his life when his life had been good. He and Matt had made so many plans about biking, hiking and climbing over the years, and it was something Carter had talked about so often. Getting back to his roots, he’d say, even though he wasn’t from the area. Maybe the sentiment had appealed to him, or maybe it had simply been the need to step out of his problems for a while.

Whatever it was, could she have actually come here expecting to find answers? Or even expecting to find Carter himself?

“You’d talked about the area so often—maybe I thought I could find some kind of closure here. You took that from me, you know.”

“I know I did,” he said.

His voice was soft now. The animosity was gone, replaced by a sadness he couldn’t conceal. At least not from the woman who’d loved him for so long.

“It was never my intention to hurt people—most of all you. But that’s how it turned out, and in the end who cares? Who really gives a good damn?”

“I do—did,” she said, fighting back tears.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. That no matter what Carter said or did she wouldn’t let him reduce her to that again. But here she was, fighting it because her heart was breaking yet one more time. For her—and for Carter.

“I cared.”

“You should have never waited for me, Sloane. You could have had better. We both knew that.”

For an instant his expression changed. Did she see regret? Or a sadness deeper than anything she’d ever seen from him before? It was there and gone so quickly she didn’t know, but in that instant she’d seen Carter. The real Carter. He was still there, which did give her hope. Not for their relationship. That was over, and she had to reconcile herself to that. But she did hold out some hope for Carter—something she hadn’t done in a long, long time.

“Maybe that’s what you thought,” she said, “but it’s not what I thought.”

Standing on tiptoes, she brushed a light kiss to his cheek, then backed away.

“What I knew was that I still loved you, but you didn’t still love me. That’s a difficult adjustment to make after so many years. I wish I could have done better at it. But I suppose that’s a moot point, isn’t it? Since you made the final decision about us without me.”

* * *

Sloane didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Sitting in her rental car in the parking lot, she was too unsteady to go anywhere yet. Maybe the kiss had been a mistake—maybe it had been the last thing he wanted from her—but it had told her something she wasn’t prepared to know. She still loved him. Maybe not in the breathless way she’d loved him at first, but in a more deep-down sense. It was something more profound—something she didn’t understand and wasn’t ready to think about.

Carter was a handsome man and, while she’d rarely let a man turn her head, she’d always reacted to him. He’d taken off some weight since she’d last seen him, and it looked good. Was he working out again? Because for the first time since he’d been injured he looked toned.

But he’d always been a head-turner, hadn’t he? Sometimes he’d shown up for work in tight leather pants, which had given all the ladies quite a show before he gave himself over to his day and changed into scrubs.

She’d loved that side of him because he’d known what he was doing—had had fun with it. He’d loved having people looking at him, speculating about who he really was—a bad boy or simply a narcissist. In truth, he had been neither. Carter Holmes had simply been a man who’d enjoyed life. He’d liked to play around with it to see what turned up. And he’d taught her to enjoy it along with him. To be spontaneous. To let go occasionally and live in the moment.

That hadn’t been her when they’d first met. After her mother died she’d been raised by a loving but very serious father who’d overwhelmed her with his serious world. Yet Carter had made her life so—good. So much fun to anticipate.

Those days were so far in the past, though, she almost wondered if they’d happened at all. Nothing seemed real anymore. It hadn’t for such a long time. Even now—being here and discovering Carter was here as well—was an altered reality, and the pieces of it hadn’t come together in her mind yet.

“I didn’t want to stir the pot,” Matt said to her an hour later, when she went to his surgery and challenged him about not telling her that Carter was in Forgeburn.

“So you just let me bump into him accidentally?” She shook her head, angry because of so many things.

“There was no guarantee you would bump into him.”

“Yeah, right. This is Forgeburn




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