The Marine's Embrace

Small steps count.

She frowned. How did Dr. Porter’s voice always know when to pop into her head? It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Small steps count, the voice repeated stubbornly. Take enough of them and you get where you’re going. Win enough small victories and you’ll eventually win the war.

Well, the man did make sense. And while she wasn’t sure she’d ever be completely cured, she could get better. Dr. Porter told her all the time that she was smart enough, strong enough to take her life in a new direction. She just needed to work harder at living up to his confidence in her. To making it true.

And she’d start today. Right now.

It took willpower—surely more than it should have—but she turned to the right instead of heading upstairs, then skirted around the huge center island and crossed over to the coffeepot next to the industrial-sized stainless steel fridge.

“Honey,” Damien said softly, “what are you doing?”

Winning the battle.

“Getting a cup of coffee.” She poured some into a mug, added a small amount of cream and sipped it before grabbing a napkin and helping herself to one of the cranberry–white chocolate scones cooling on a wire rack.

Even small victories deserved to be celebrated.

“No, I mean what are you doing with Shane?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, all faux serenity and innocence, popping a bite of scone into her mouth.

Damien frowned, which, for some reason, brought out his dimples. “You’re not fooling me. I know a walk of shame when I see one.”

It was then she realized that she was still in her robe and hadn’t even bothered to wash her face or brush her hair.

Heat washed up her neck and into her cheeks. With her fair skin, there was no way Damien could miss her blush. Hoping she could ride it out—at least until she wasn’t glowing red—she ducked her head, pretended great interest in pouring more coffee into her already almost-full cup, adding a drop of cream and stirring.

Damien inhaled deeply then heaved a long, drawn-out sigh—as if sucking in patience before huffing out the weariness that came along with dealing with her.

Her mother often did the same thing. It was a wonder they didn’t hyperventilate.

“Ignoring me won’t work,” he said as he took eggs out of the fridge. “Neither will pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not ignoring anything.” But it took a moment before she was able to meet his eyes. “And I’m not on a walk of shame—I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She and Shane were husband and wife.

Sort of.

Even if they weren’t technically married at the moment, being with him could never be wrong.

Damien shook his head. “He left you. He divorced you.”

Though his voice wasn’t unkind, the words still had the power to make her head snap back.

“Thank you,” she managed, but had to stop and clear her throat before continuing. “But I don’t need to be reminded of those facts.”

If she did, she’d only have to ask Maddie. Lord knew her best friend had never held back when it came to listing Fay’s mistakes or telling her how she should live her life. She loved to remind Fay what Shane had done.

As if Fay didn’t remember the pain each and every day.

“Then why did you sleep with him?” Damien asked, taking a large ceramic bowl down from an open shelf.

She broke off a corner of the scone, raised it to her mouth, only to set it down again. “Things are different now. Between me and Shane. He’s changed.”

Damien cracked an egg into the bowl, then another. “If he’s so different, why did I catch him sneaking out—”

“He wasn’t sneaking out.” But she couldn’t help but think of how she’d discovered him getting dressed in the dark, as if he was going to leave without waking her. Without saying goodbye. Like a one-night stand eager to escape.

“It’s barely daylight,” Damien said, adding another egg to the bowl. “And you were running after him.” He nodded sharply as if he’d just cracked the case along with his eggs. He grabbed a large whisk from the crock next to the stove and pointed it at her. “He snuck out.”

“We said our goodbyes upstairs. And the only reason he left so early is because he has a job interview.”

“Before 6:00 a.m.?”

At her friend’s incredulous look, Fay stared into her coffee, wishing she could somehow dive in there and swim away from this conversation. “He had to go back to his hotel. Shower and change and...and prepare for it.”

Another sigh, this one of the you-poor-thing variety. “Honey, he crept out of here like a thief. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he came down and realized he wasn’t alone.”

“I’m sure he was just surprised to find anyone awake so early. Anyway, we’re getting back together,” she continued, though why the words came out so quickly, why she sounded so tentative, she wasn’t sure.

She licked her lips. Linked her hands together at her waist. It was only a matter of time before people knew she was seeing Shane again. They’d need to understand that Shane was back in her life for good.

“Shane and I are back together.”

There. That was better. Direct and to the point. A statement of fact and not some wishy-washy hope.

Damien stared at her, narrow eyed, mouth tight. “What?”

“He wants us back—me and the boys. He wants us to be a family again.”

“Uh-huh. I see. And did he say this before or after you had sex?”

“I don’t see why that matters.”

“Before? Or after?”

She squirmed. Forcing her body to remain motionless, she said, “Before.”

Damien looked at her as if she was some brainless idiot. “Don’t you see? He just said that to get what he wanted.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Damien hadn’t been there last night. He didn’t see how Shane looked at her. “He meant it this time.”

“I know you want to believe that, but he’s using you. It’s the same thing every time. He calls in the middle of the night—”

“It wasn’t that late.”