to five in his mind, trying to stop from grabbing his little boy and squeezing the lifeblood from him. He’d waited for this moment for so long, and now this child, with hair the same blond as his own, stood before him, waiting expectantly as if his father would know what to do, when the truth was he had no idea how to even greet him. But he was back now and that’s what counted.
Before he could drop his pack to the ground the tiny body hurtled forward, grabbing him tight around the legs. Luke barely had time to lock eyes with Ollie again, to see the reaction on her face, before he was thrown headfirst into fatherhood.
“I see you’re not shy, huh?” He recovered from the tackle enough to straighten, bag dropped to the ground, one hand on his son’s head. “Thought you’d be big enough for a handshake by now.”
Charlie jumped back, saluting his dad, a grin plastered on his face. Luke responded in kind, straight-faced, at his boy pretending to be a soldier.
“You’ve been taking good care of the little soldier, huh?” Luke turned his attention back to his wife.
Olivia stood in the hall, her slender body braced by the wall. His eyes flicked over her, at the long honey-brown hair falling over her shoulders, at the slim arms crossed over her chest, and the sad blue eyes staring back at him. He hated seeing her like that. Knowing he was responsible for the sadness in her gaze.
“Aagghh! The poster!” Charlie spun around and motored down the hall past his mom, disappearing from sight. Luke watched for a moment, then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“How are you, Ollie?”
He stood at ease, feet spread evenly. His hands slipped into his pockets as he watched her—watched those beautiful, big blue eyes that were looking straight back at him.
“It’s good to have you back, Luke.”
Olivia’s voice was strained. He tried to ignore it, but it hit him hard. He had imagined this day for a long time, thought about what he’d say and how he’d apologize to her. But now that he was here, expressing himself wasn’t coming as easily as he’d hoped.
“It’s good to be home.” Should he close the distance between them and kiss her? Hug her and say “sorry”? He almost made himself laugh. What would he pick to say sorry for? Leaving her when he’d promised to stay? His royal failure at being a husband, or for being the world’s worst father?
“He’s been so excited about seeing you.” Olivia gestured with her head as a thunder of footfalls echoed their way. “He hardly slept a wink all night.”
Luke understood. How could he not? His son was excited to have him home, his wife wasn’t. He didn’t deserve anything more, but it still hurt.
“He’s sure turned into a pretty special kid.”
“Welcome home!” Charlie stood at his mom’s side, arms stretched wide with the homemade poster. Luke looked at Olivia first, then at Charlie, and he wished things could have been different. That he’d been away a few months, maybe six. That he was coming home to a real family, to a wife who loved him still. The kind of family he had wished for over and over when he was a child.
“I love it,” he said, dropping to his knees to inspect the picture. “You did great, kid.”
His son beamed and grabbed his hand, tugging him in the direction he’d come from. “Come on, Dad.”
Luke looked over his shoulder at Ollie and almost wished he’d stayed away. This was harder than he’d expected, and then some. He’d come home to see his son, but looking at his wife, he was wishing he’d made more of an effort in that department, too. More than an effort, he wished he’d taken the time to make things right.
When Luke looked back at her, gave her that soft smile he used to throw her way so often, Olivia almost broke down, but she was determined not to cry. She had to be strong for their son. It was all that mattered right now.
After all this time, of wishing Luke would come home, to almost wishing he’d never come back into their lives again, he was here. And she had to deal with it.
Those first few months had been the hardest, but then she’d become used to not having her husband around. She’d met other moms, new friends, fitted in in a way she hadn’t thought possible. Developed a new life, like a widow. And regretted all the times she’d raised her voice at her husband, when she should have tried listening to him instead.
She’d well and truly prepared for the fact that he might never come home. Until now. His dedication to the army was something to be proud of, but the way he’d hurt her wasn’t.
Olivia walked bravely into the living room and watched her son, rabbiting on to his father and dumping toys all over the ground as if he was playing show-and-tell. Luke had taken his jacket off and lay spread out on the floor, his uniformed legs eating up the carpet, white undershirt a contrast to the charcoal weave.
She ached to reach out and touch him, no matter how much she hated herself for thinking that, but he was just so damn gorgeous. So handsome, and the memories she had of him were so good. It was as if she needed to make contact with his skin to prove that he was here. Alive. In their house.
But reuniting with Luke wasn’t a possibility. The thrum of hurt still ached like a constant thud, and having him back only made the pain more real. She couldn’t do it again. Not now. She’d finally rebuilt her life, and if she lost him again she’d never recover.
The divorce papers were in her bag; she just had to decide when to tell him. She was sure he’d given up on their marriage long before she had, so now it was just time to make it official.
“Okay, time to let me talk to your mom, okay?” she heard him tell Charlie.
Olivia turned to see Luke pull his big frame up to full height.
“Coffee?” she asked, busying herself in the kitchen for something to do.
He nodded and sat down across from her. She sensed him watching her as she dropped instant coffee into each cup. Scooped sugar into her mug, then refilled the dispenser—anything to avoid his gaze.
“Nice place here.”
Olivia paused and looked at him. “I had to move. It just wasn’t practical to stay in the old house.” Her voice had a bite to it. A snap she hadn’t intended.
Luke raised his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You don’t have to explain.”
Heat hit her cheeks and she turned to pour boiling water into each cup. Of course he hadn’t meant anything by it. She was just jittery and jumping to conclusions.
“Luke, I …” She placed the mug in front of him and tried to find the words.
He reached out to her, catching her wrist as she let one hand rest on the counter. The simple press of his skin against hers made her pull away, recoil. But it also made her flush with something other than anger. Because she still wanted Luke, no matter how much she tried to make herself think otherwise.
“You don’t have to say anything. This is hard for me, too, Ollie.”
No! she wanted to scream at him. You have no idea how I feel, no
