Chapter 22
Callie
Melanie and CJ are the first to arrive on the island with their three kids in tow. I put them on the main floor. Andy and Sienna arrive next. They share the suite above with Lilac and Slate.
Grayson has his own home on the island. He’s housing Jack and his wife, Blake. As our resident psychiatrist, her role is primary.
While Loch runs along the beach, I phone her from my deck. “Is everyone ready?”
“Yes. Please make sure to bring him to Grayson’s by ten. We’re set up there.”
My throat tightens. “I hope this works. He had another bad dream last night. I can’t imagine him going off to war like this.”
“Stay strong. You’re not alone. Now, depending on the weather, the kids will either be at the beach or the movies. Then, we’ll have about two hours to pull this off.”
I pace in the early light. Beyond, the sun rises above the ocean’s sparkling water. Far down the beach, my husband races barefoot along the water’s edge, every inch of him a warrior.
I hope he won’t be too mad. I waited a full week for his nightmares to subside but if anything, they’ve gotten worse. If my idea doesn’t work, he’ll reenlist and with his condition, may die. I glance down at the crumpled note in my hand. I’ve been composing it for hours. This has to work, it absolutely has to.
I meet him at the foot of the deck with a towel. “Want to take a walk after your shower?”
“I just ran for ten miles, luv.” He shoots me a heart stopping grin, sweat rolling down his naked chest.
“I know, but I promised a couple friends we’d stop by.”
“Oi, I hate trying to make convo with the locals. I don’t stack up by their standards, yeah?” He pokes one of my ribs, no doubt sensing my sadness but I step back because right now, I’m not ticklish.
“These guys are really nice and I promised. It may be years before we can get back here together.” Tears form, I look away, and blink them back.
If he wanted to reenlist and was in a good place, I might not be his biggest supporter, but I’d not stop him. What he’s doing is suicidal.
He holds me tight in his naked damp body, smelling all good, sexy, and beachy. “Don’t cry, luv. I’ll meet these blokes. I’ll even be nice.”
I punch his arm. “You’re always nice.”
“Nah, but I will be, for you. Let me grab a quick shower.”
Thank God.When the water starts to run, I text Blake a thumbs up, and run back upstairs to throw a dress on over my bikini.
A few minutes later, he drops his towel and grins. Then, he pulls me into his warm damp body, and whispers in my ear. “Sure you wouldn’t rather stay here?”
I laugh, hoping he doesn’t catch my nervousness. “After, I promise.”
“Right then.” He dons khaki shorts and a t-shirt, we hop in my mother’s car, and drive to the other side of the island.
“Bloody hell. Who lives here? Oprah?” His mouth drops open at the sight of the multi-decked, multi-floored, beach front, mansion.
“You’ll see.” I jump out of the driver’s seat and walk the paverstone driveway, up the three stairs, and ring the bell.
The door opens, Melanie squeals and gives me a delighted hug.
Lucky’s mouth drops open. “I’ll be buggered.”
“Please, come upstairs.” She hugs him and over his shoulder shoots me a worried look but I’m resolved.
No backing out now.
Upstairs, his friends gather on the far side of the living room by the outside doors. We walk past a circular stone fireplace. Beyond the wall of open glass doors, a salty breeze cools what would otherwise be too warm a day.
