Return to Glory (Hqn) by Sara Arden

obvious.”
    He opened her car door for her. “Beyond the obvious? Did you? Before you made your declaration, did you stop to wonder what would happen if you got pregnant?”
    She studied him hard as visions of every possible outcome blared through her mind like a siren. All the talk of babies forced her to imagine what it would be like to have a child with him. “I don’t imagine my life would be much different than it is now.” Only then she’d have a piece of him that belonged wholly to her. A piece that she could keep safe and— God, what was she thinking?
    Only what any woman would think when looking at Jack McConnell. Even as damaged as he was, Jack was still what dreams were made of. At least, her dreams.
    “That look on your face is terrifying, Betsy,” he whispered.
    She started the car without looking at him. “What do you mean?”
    “It’s that hero worship again. When I was a kid, I loved that you looked at me like that. I would have done anything to keep that, but now I’m just waiting for you to realize I’m not who you think. When that goes away, I’m never going to have that look again.”
    Then it all made sense. Why he pushed her away so hard, why he kept telling her she didn’t want him. He wanted to be the one to decide it for them both so it didn’t hurt him.
    The realization only strengthened her resolve.
    “Jack—” she turned in her seat to face him “—I don’t expect you to be anyone but who you are. We did have sex, but that doesn’t mean I’m assuming we’re in a relationship. You just got home and you’ve had trauma. I get that. The only thing I expect from you is to stick to the parameters of our deal. Give living a chance before you decide that you’re dead. That’s it. Just a chance. I don’t need you to promise me shining armor, or white horses, or some castle in the clouds.”
    “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he confessed.
    “What do you want to do?”
    “You keep asking me what I want.”
    “Well, yeah. Haven’t you thought about it?”
    “No, not really. It’s never been about what I want. It’s been about what I’m supposed to do.”
    Betsy knew exactly how he felt. “Your obligations here are only to yourself. That’s something you should think about. Didn’t you ever wonder what you’d be if you weren’t a SEAL?”
    “No.”
    “You can be anything you want when you grow up.”
    “I wanted to be a SEAL.”
    “You were, but now that’s passed. It’s time for something new.”
    He seemed to be thinking over her words, and she thought it was a good sign that he hadn’t snapped at her. He was angry, and Betsy understood that. She knew he had to mourn the part of himself that was gone—both the physical and the mental.
    “See you at the house.” He closed her door and went to his car.
    Betsy tried not to focus too hard on the flame of hope that burned in her chest as she drove the short distance across town to his house.
    She parked on the street and couldn’t stifle a yawn when they met again on his porch.
    “I’ve exhausted you already?”
    Betsy tried not to think about the ways she still wanted him to exhaust her when she answered, “I keep early hours. I have to be at the shop by four so I can get things ready for the morning rush at six.”
    Most of the shops downtown didn’t open until eight or nine, but Betsy wanted the breakfast crowd. It was where she made the majority of her income, aside from wedding cakes and parties. In fact, it was what kept the business afloat when things got tight.
    “Then I guess we should go to bed, if you’re still staying.”
    She followed him inside silently. Betsy didn’t trust her voice. She focused on the broad planes of his back, the contours of his biceps and what it felt like to be in his arms. Would he hold her while they slept, or would he—
    “There’s a guest room upstairs.”
    “Really?” Betsy asked, arching an eyebrow. She’d sooner sleep naked in Haymarket