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He recognized the shift in her eyes. Back then, that moment when her eyes began avoiding his and she began withdrawing into herself represented her self-doubt.

At least he was pretty sure that was what he had figured out.

He didn’t know that then, of course, but he’d realized it later.

Maybe he’d said he wasn’t in the mood to watch a movie, for instance, and in her mind she’d translated that as, “Why would I want to watch a movie with you? The fact that you want to watch a movie at all demonstrates to me how different we are. In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t love you anymore.

Maybe I never did. Also, have you put on weight?

Peace out, yo.” And sure, maybe that was all a bit extreme, but he’d had a lot of time to replay and analyze segments of every conversation they’d ever had.

He would swear that a time or two she’d interpreted whatever harmless (to him) thing he was trying to say as pretty much exactly that.

That was the one thing he would do differently if he had it all to do again. He would be patient and take the time to understand

how his words made her feel. And then, once he did that, of course he would learn how to communicate better. He would be patient

with himself and take the time to say the right words. He’d put in the effort. He would also make sure she knew that there was nothing

she could ever say or do that would cause him to stop loving her. And of course it would have been much easier to convince

her of that if he hadn’t, in fact, walked out on her with what must have felt very much like a “Peace out, yo.”

Okay, so there was actually a lot he would do differently. And if he could pick only one thing, he would have stayed. It seemed

so simple now, though it certainly hadn’t then.

“Hey.” Wes smiled as Addie maintained her sliver of presence in the doorway and wet hair fell in front of her eyes once more.

He was so tempted to brush it away again, but he was legitimately worried any sudden moves might startle her at this point.

She appeared to be so lost in thought. Maybe so lost in guessing at and analyzing his motives. And he wished he could ease

her mind and clarify that it was no big deal and that she was overthinking it. But this conversation over breakfast had the

potential to be a very big deal. “I really do need to talk to you. It’s important. But also, for the sake of full disclosure,

you should know I can’t really cook. I will gladly pour cereal or, if the conditions are right, toast you some Pop-Tarts.”

“And what exactly are the proper Pop-Tart conditions?”

“I mean, I’m tempted to say 1996, maybe? A little Matchbox Twenty on the radio? Last night’s X-Files cued up on the VCR?”

She chuckled and stood straight. “Cereal will be fine. Be there in a minute.”

***

He rolled up his sleeves as he ran down the stairs and then hopped to the bottom landing from the third step. Jo was standing

over an end table in the living room, carefully arranging a stack of magazines, and looked up at him in disapproval when he

landed with a gentle thud.

“I’ll thank you not to scuff up my hardwood floors.”

Wes hurried over and stood behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “And I’ll thank you not to be mad at me for how rude

I was last night.”

She raised her hand and slapped him gently on the cheek three times. “I’m more worried about my floors.” He backed up, and

Jo turned and faced him. “Everything okay?”

“Addie is going to be down in a minute.” He leaned in and spoke quietly. “Is anyone else around? Would it be okay if we had

the dining room to ourselves for a little while?”

“Now those are two very different questions, and I’m not sure the answer of one has much to do with the other.” She began

walking to the kitchen, and Wes followed her. “The Wainscots just checked out—”

“Already? It’s 6:30 a.m.”

“We’re called the Inn Between for a reason, you know. We were their stopover on the way to Denver. They were the only other

guests, and I’m just about to go have breakfast at the Bean. So yes, you’ll have the place to yourself.” She picked up two

oven mitts and slipped them on before lowering the oven door and pulling out a casserole dish. “But as to whether or not that

will be okay... I guess that depends on whether you want to be in the middle of what’s going on with Addie and Doc.”

He tilted his head and leaned back against the counter. “What do you mean? Why would that—” Oh. Of course. “They’re fighting because he found out I’m in town?”

Jo closed the oven and tsked as she removed the oven mitts from her hands. “It’s really not for me to say. You know I don’t

like to put my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Yes.” He nodded and smiled as he picked a crispy piece of burnt cheese off the side of the dish. “Your discretion is legendary.”

***

“I mean, I kind of had my taste buds all set for Raisin Bran or something, but I suppose this will do.” Addie took another

bite of the sausage and green chile frittata and moaned in satisfaction. “You’re not only a better chef than I expected, you’re

very speedy.”

They sat across the large oak dining table from each other—Addie dressed again in her jeans and sweater from the night before,

hair still damp, and Wes properly buttoned.

“Well, it was the least I could do. Especially considering I might be at least somewhat responsible for the fact that you’re

staying at the inn and wearing yesterday’s clothes?” He grimaced.

Addie rolled her eyes. “Jo and her big mouth.”

Wes chuckled. “Yes. So I suppose the truth is more accurate. It was the least Jo could do.”

She raised her cup of coffee. “I’ll drink to that.”

They ate in silence, and he watched her focus on her plate. Occasionally her vision and attention would wander off to a far

corner of the room. They were alone, just like he’d wanted, and the only thing keeping him from diving straight in was how

much he was enjoying staring at her without her knowledge.

He’d never known anyone as beautiful as her. And the thing was, she probably never would have been hired as a runway model

or even been “discovered” by some guy pulling together a local ad for Woolworth’s, back when there used to be local ads for

Woolworth’s. Back when there used to be Woolworth’s. Brynn had always been the local beauty of that nature within their group. And then Laila was the one who made every guy she encountered fall just a little bit in love with her by simply smiling and lighting up the air all around her.

Addie was different. There was so much depth behind every smile and so much substance wrapped up in every glance. She had

big brown eyes that, frankly, had seemed a little too big for her head when she was young—though she’d grown into them nicely.

And maybe her mouth was just a little too wide, if you were searching for flaws. Of course, when she laughed and that mouth

was on full display, you understood how perfectly those full, slightly asymmetrical lips suited her. She’d hated her nose

and the way it turned up a little at the end, and the tiny little gap between her front teeth, but Wes had always thought

those two “flaws,” as she had viewed them, were among her sexiest features. And now he marveled at how youthful they made

her appear, even while she carried the burdens of adulthood.

“Um, Addie?”

The tines of her fork were resting on her bottom lip when he got her attention. She pulled her eyes away from the far window

of the dining room and looked at him, but the fork stayed in place. “Hmm?”

“I need to tell you something.” He set his fork down beside his plate and switched over to the chair at the head of the table

so he could sit beside her instead of across from her. “And I need you to know that I didn’t know this until last night. Well,

this morning, actually.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “No, last night. When we were talking about whether

or not you missed the CIA and you mentioned that Joel was CIA too.”

“What are you talking about?” She set her fork down with a shaky clank on her plate, and Wes instantly understood that he

was already on the verge of messing this up. Not that there was any sort of rule book for this sort of thing, as far as he

knew. “What didn’t you know?”

He turned in his chair to face her at the corner of the table.

“I’m on the Senate Intelligence Committee.

” He desperately hoped his eyes conveyed compassion and care.

That’s what he was feeling. That was definitely the reason he had been scouring through thousands of pages of encrypted files from a locked-down server on his phone all night.

His forty-one-year-old eyes would have thrown a parade in his honor if he’d switched over to his laptop, but something about opening classified government files on a computer using guest Wi-Fi at an inn in Adelaide Springs, Colorado, just felt like a no-no, whether it actually would have been a problem or not.

Not that using the data plan on his phone was necessarily any more secure.

“And last night, when we were talking, I finally remembered where I’d heard the name Elwyn . ”

Her fingers continued to tremble, and the tips turned white as she squeezed the edge of the table in a failed attempt to still

them. “You’re on Senate Intelligence? Is that true?”

His heart fell inside his chest at her question. “Is that true?” He didn’t blame her for asking. No matter who he was to her, in the past or the present, this was a tricky situation. Even

if she had only been the wife of a CIA officer who lost his life in the line of duty, she would understand the importance

of discretion. She wouldn’t be keeping the secrets surrounding her husband’s death just because she was told to. Just because

she had agreed to. Not even because actual, legitimate penalties and jail time were on the line. No, secrets were kept because