Page 29

I replay the scene, spinning each painstaking detail through my head. Logan’s touch, Sara’s sweet cries. The feel of him filling my mouth. I brace for self-hatred and shame. For the familiar blast of guilt and dread and regret.

But none of that comes. What I feel most is…contentment?

That can’t be right. Maybe I’m numb. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Surely the shame will set in at some point. I wait for the sour taste on the back of my tongue. For the ring of my dad’s voice saying I’m going to hell.

The only male voice in my head is Logan’s. It might be his hand on my chest, or his words in the back of my head.

That was unreal.

It was. And maybe that’s what’s going on here. This isn’t the real world, so I don’t feel real panic. As long as we’re here in this place without shame, we can exist in some parallel universe.

I watch Logan’s hand, splayed on my chest as it moves up and down with my breath. That looks pretty damn real. As I stare at his hand, I wait for the self-doubt to come.

I’m still waiting as I drift off to sleep, so fucking content I don’t know who I am anymore.

I’m alone in my suite, sending a payment to our former wedding florist, when the phone rings.

The screen reads Mom and I’m flooded with the same sensation that ran through me each time she called when I stayed out past curfew doing something I shouldn’t.

Having a threesome feels so much more scandalous than sneaking cigarettes with Beck under the high school bleachers. It takes me a few rings to answer.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Trent, sweetie—how are you?”

“I’m good.” I glance out the window and try to recall where I told her I’d be now. The fact that she’s calling means I must not have said I’m deployed overseas. “Just—uh—working hard.”

“That’s great, honey.” She sounds distracted and shaky and my senses shift to high alert. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” What’s going on here?

Something bangs in the background as Mom speaks again. “I hate to bother you, but I wanted to let you know your father’s in town for a few weeks.”

“He is?” Shit. “What’s he doing there?”

“He somehow got wind of your wedding.” Mom lowers her voice and I hear a dull thump and some cursing. “I didn’t tell him yet that it’s been cancelled. I don’t think he’ll take it well, and um…well, I’m holding out hope you’ll change your mind.”

Goddammit.

“Mom—” Whatever I’m ready to say gets cut off by the boom of my father’s voice. He’s cursing and muttering something about cold feet.

Then his voice fills my ear.

“Is that him?” He’s speaking so loudly that he’s probably snatched the phone from her hand. “Trent, son—what the hell are you doing?”

“Working, Dad.” Gritting my teeth, I hold tight to the phone. “I’m OUTCONUS right now.”

At least his position as a submarine missile tech means he knows not to ask for more detail. Out of the country means out of the country and that’s enough said.

But my father snarls anyway. “Were you planning to invite me to your goddamn wedding?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond.

“Eighteen years of molding you into the man you are. Paying for food and the roof over your head—that doesn’t earn me a chance to see you get hitched to that pretty little girl of yours?

What’s her name again? Sonya or Sherri or?—”

“Sara.” I almost hate saying her name in his presence. Like it taints her to give him this minuscule piece of her. “How long are you in Portland?”

If he catches the fact that I’m dodging his question, he doesn’t say so. “I’m here ‘til the seventh. Got some leave stored up just for this.”

That’s way too long for my mother to have to put up with him. Dammit. “Where are you staying?”

“What the hell do you mean where am I staying? In my own fucking house with my own fucking wife?—”

“Okay. I thought you might be over on the coast for training or something.”

He huffs out an exasperated breath. “I’m here to see my only goddamn son get married.” Such a cheerful wedding guest. “When are you getting here?”

“Um, soon.” Jesus, I need to stop this. To get my mom back on the line at least. “Could I please?— ”

“Call your mother when you need to be picked up at the airport.”

And with that, my father hangs up.

I stare at my phone for a moment, wondering if it’s safe to text Mom back. The call came in from her number, so there’s a good chance he’s holding her phone. He’s always been one to check Mom’s messages and calls, so I’d better not take any chance of upsetting him.

Upsetting my dad when he’s alone with my mom is the last thing on Earth I should do.

I settle for sending her a text that says I miss her and urging her to call back when it’s a better time to talk. Hopefully, that’s benign enough.

A heaviness settles in my chest, replacing the light, blissful feeling I’ve had since I left Sara and Logan in bed this morning.

I ducked out before dawn, long before the sun inched over the horizon.

Sara’s always been an early riser, but this was way beyond early.

More like late , if you’re gauging by the still-open bar near the pool.

I crept quietly to the bathroom to splash water on my face, gave a passing thought to showering, but decided it made more sense to go back to my room where my stuff is.

I paused by the bed, debating whether to leave a note. Or whether to leave at all. How nice would it feel to stay there in bed with the woman I love and the man I…

The man I….

What the fuck was I supposed to call Logan, anyway?

Boyfriend?

The thought soured my stomach as I swallowed the lead ball filling my throat. No way was I ready to go there. To put labels on anything or think beyond the next couple days.

Then Sara rolled over, her warm brown eyes fluttering open. With a delicate smile, she squinted at me through the lamplight I’d used to get dressed .

“Trent?” She sounded confused and still half asleep.

I stooped at the bedside, speaking low so I didn’t wake Logan. “Go back to sleep. It’s still dark out.”

“Okay, but—” She rubbed one of her eyes as Logan stirred in his sleep. “Are you coming back?”

“Eventually.” Did she think I was making a break for the airport? “We’re snorkeling later, right?”

“That’s right.” A sleepy smile settled on her face as her eyes drifted shut again. “Maybe later we talk about the future?”

Cold dread pulsed through me, filling my limbs with pure ice. “Sure.” I stroked a hand down her arm, hoping to lull her back to sleep. “I just need a workout and a shower.” That’s as far in the future as I felt willing to plan.

“Mmphm.” She burrowed her face into the pillow. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Logan stirred again, throwing a hand over Sara’s round hip. It lay curled around her, protective and safe. An odd sense of calm came over me then. With Logan in charge, I’d never feel anxious leaving Sara alone.

Leaving her for the morning. That’s all I meant.

“I’ll see you later.” I whispered, so softly that I’m not sure she heard me. The cadence of her breathing said she’d already gone back to sleep.

It was my chance to leave but I didn’t. I crouched there a few minutes longer, watching her sleep. Watching him with his arm wrapped around her.

They looked peaceful and calm, not a care in the world. In that big, king-sized bed, there was plenty of room for another. How easy it would have been to climb back under the covers, fitting my body into the space left for me. I could have done it.

I wanted to so fucking badly.

But duty called, like it always fucking does. I crept out of the room and back to my own, where I’m still sitting now with the phone in my hand .

What’s going on with my mother?

On that long-ago day when my father attacked her, I snapped. Sixteen-year-old me stood up to my dad and made sure he knew to stay gone.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I snarled, putting my body between him and my mother. “We’re all better off when you leave us alone.”

Crying softly behind me, my mother choked out a different response.

“Don’t leave me.” Sobbing so hard she could barely form words, she laid out the terms that we’ve lived by.

“Please, just—I know you can’t help it. We need to stay married.

You just need to stay gone, that’s all. With your job, it’s so simple.

If you just stay away, we’ll all be okay. ”

What a fucking way to live.

But that’s how we’ve done it. What I’ve learned about marriage from watching my parents.

When my phone buzzes in my hand, I look down at the screen with a sigh.

Everything is fine. Your father wants to see you. We love each other, Trent. Being married takes work, but I know you can do it!

Squeezing my eyes shut, I set down my phone with a thick, oily dread in my gut.