“Dubai. Training, short contract. Thirty-three brigade has given up a spot and we can nab it if we’re quick.”
The provincial police force was supportive of reserve military service, but tours of duty were more tricky to accommodate. “When?”
“Go see the RSM, he’ll get all the details for you.”
An overseas tour was something any soldier wanted, reg force and reservist alike. Rafe hadn’t had a chance before he joined the police force, and he wasn’t sure when or if another short contract would be offered to him. He’d find a way to get the time off.
“And if your wife needs support while you’re away, the regular provisions would be made, of course.” The captain clapped him on the shoulder and moved on, leaving Rafe standing there, reeling. It wasn’t just his decision any longer.
She was fast asleep when he got home. He tucked into bed with her, spooning her from behind. She made some welcome home noises, and he kissed the back of her neck. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered as she wound her arm backwards around his waist.
Jesus, she was going to be pissed at him.
The next morning he got up extra early and made her favourite coffee. They were moving in two days, but the coffee machine would be the last thing packed and the first to come out of the boxes. Outside it was a cold early March morning, still dark, and he had no idea how she’d take the news.
Thirty minutes later, she sat and stared at him for just about as long as he’d expected, her face unreadable. “Is it dangerous?”
He shook his head. “No more dangerous than any other business travel to the Middle East.”
“And you won’t have to go to Afghanistan?”
“No. But I would—if something freaky happened, another large-scale terrorist attack or something. I won’t lie to you about that. I’m a soldier, Liv, that’s my job. I’m not afraid of doing it.”
She tilted her head to the side and stared off into the distance. “I’ll miss you,” she said, her voice small and light. Like the words could float away if he didn’t grab on to them.
“It’s just three months. Ninety days.” The same amount of time he was at Police College and it took them to go from meeting to marriage. A blink of an eye.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She offered a small, sad smile. “I’m not going to hold you back from your dreams.”
“Will you stay here?”
Her head jerked back. “Of course.”
“I just meant, if you want to go back to London, stay with friends or something.”
“No, this is my home now. Besides, your mother would have a fit if I quit for three months to go party while her son was off at war.”
“I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“That’s a given.” She shrugged. “I’ll manage. Maybe I’ll decorate this place while you’re gone. When do you leave?”
“Not until June.”
“Then let’s make the most of the spring together, yes?”
Yes. The tightness in his chest eased. It was going to be okay.
— SIX —
Present day
THE thought of going to a bush party would have made Olivia’s heart ache a few weeks earlier. She’d loved them when she first came north. That first summer, while Rafe was in Dubai, his siblings and friends made sure she was invited to everything. Bonfires, beach parties, barbecues…even though she’d missed him like crazy, that summer had a lovely side effect of Olivia finding her new Pine Harbour self. Sort of. Enough of an identity that she didn’t turn tail and run while he was gone. It had taken another five years for her to find something professional to get excited about.
She refused to think it was sad that her excitement was so high over a six month, part-time gig where she basically waited for a phone call to go take a picture of something. It was still more fascinating than anything she’d done in her life to date. And worthy of celebrating. So when Lynn Howard texted and invited her to a bonfire at Scott Turner’s farm on Saturday evening, it didn’t take long for her to accept.
