of his mother’s head. It was both surreal and right.
With a deliberate move, he dropped the duffel bag, then wrapped both arms around his much-shorter mother and gave her a hard hug. “Hi, Mom.”
She pushed back, gave his chest a playful slap and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re really here. You must be hungry. I’ll go fix you something—”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, knowing nothing could stop her. Connie Wyatt treated all difficult situations as a reason to feed people.
“Won’t be a minute,” she said, then shot her husband a quick glance. “I’ll bring us all some coffee, too. You stay in that chair, mister.”
Bob Wyatt waved one hand at his wife, but kept his gaze fixed on his son. As Connie rushed out of the room and headed for the family kitchen, Sam walked over to his father and took a seat on the footstool in front of him. “Dad. You look good.”
Scowling, the older man brushed his gray-streaked hair back from his forehead and narrowed the green eyes he’d bequeathed to his sons. “I’m fine. Doctor says it wasn’t anything. Just too much stress.”
Stress. Because he’d lost one son, had another disappear on him and was forced to do most of the running of the family resort himself. Guilt Sam didn’t want to acknowledge pinged him again as he realized that leaving the way he did had left everyone scrambling.
Frowning more deeply, his father looked over to the doorway where his wife had disappeared. “Your mother’s bound and determined to make me an invalid, though.”
“You scared her,” Sam said. “Hell, you scared me.”
His father watched him for several long minutes before saying, “Well now, you did some scaring of your own a couple years ago. Taking off, not letting us know where you were or how you were...”
Sam took a breath and blew it out. And there was the guilt again, settling back onto his shoulders like an unwelcome guest. It had been with him so long now, Sam thought he would probably never get rid of it entirely.
“Couple of postcards just weren’t enough, son.”
“I couldn’t call,” Sam said, and knew it sounded cowardly. “Couldn’t hear your voices. Couldn’t—hell, Dad. I was a damn mess.”
“You weren’t the only one hurting, Sam.”
“I know that,” he said, and felt a flicker of shame. “I do. But losing Jack...” Sam scowled at the memory as if that action alone could push it so far out of sight he’d never have to look at it again.
“He was your twin,” Bob mused. “But he was our child. Just as you and Kristi are.”
There it was. Sam had to accept that he’d caused his parents more pain at a time when they had already had more than enough loss to deal with. But back then, there had seemed to Sam to be only one answer.
“I had to go.”
One short sentence that encapsulated the myriad emotions that had driven him from his home, his family.
“I know that.” His father’s gaze was steady and there was understanding there as well as sorrow. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, but I understand. Still, you’re back now. For how long?”
He’d been expecting that question. The problem was, he didn’t have an answer for it yet. Sam ducked his head briefly, then looked at his father again. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” the older man said sadly, “that’s honest at least.”
“I can tell you,” Sam assured him, “that this time I’ll let you know before I leave. I can promise not to disappear again.”
Nodding, his father said, “Then I guess that’ll have to do. For now.” He paused and asked, “Have you seen...anyone else yet?”
“No. Just Kristi.” Sam stiffened. There were still minefields to step through. Hard feelings and pain to be faced. There was no way out but through.
As hard as it was to face his family, he’d chosen to see them first, because what was still to come would be far more difficult.
“Well then,” his father spoke up, “you should know that—”
The elevator swished open. Sam turned to face whoever was arriving and instantly went still as stone. He hardly heard his father complete the sentence that had been interrupted.
“—Lacy’s on her way over here.”
Lacy Sills.
She stood just inside the room, clutching at a basket of muffins that filled the room with a tantalizing scent. Sam’s heart gave one hard lurch in his chest. She looked good. Too damn good.
She stood five foot eight and her long blond hair hung in a single thick braid over her left shoulder. Her navy blue coat was unbuttoned to reveal a heavy, fisherman’s knit, forest-green sweater over her black jeans. Her boots were black, too, and came to her knees. Her features were the same: a generous mouth; a straight, small nose; and blue eyes the color of deep summer. She didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. And didn’t have to.
In a split second, blood rushed from his head to his lap and just like that, he was hard as a rock. Lacy had always had that effect on him.
That’s why he’d married her.
* * *
Lacy couldn’t move. Couldn’t seem to draw a breath past the tight knot of emotion lodged in her throat. Her heartbeat was too fast and she felt a head rush, as if she’d had one too many glasses of wine.
She should have called first. Should have made sure the Wyatts were alone here at the lodge. But then, her mind argued, why should she? It wasn’t as if she’d expected to see Sam sitting there opposite his father. And now that she had, she was determined to hide her reaction to him. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d walked out on her family. Her life. She’d done nothing to be ashamed of.
Except of course, for missing him. Her insides were jumping, her pulse raced and an all too familiar swirl of desire spun in the pit of her stomach. How was it possible that she could still feel so much for a man who had tossed her aside without a second thought?
When Sam left, she had gone through so many different stages of grief, she had thought she’d never come out the other side of it all. But she had. Finally.
How was it fair that he was here again when she was just getting her life back?
“Hello, Lacy.”
His voice was the deep rumble of an avalanche forming and she knew that, to her, it held the same threat of destruction. He was watching her out of grass-green eyes she had once gotten lost in. And he looked so darn good. Why did he have to look so good? By all rights, he should be covered in boils and blisters as punishment for what he’d done.
Silence stretched out until it became a presence in the room. She had to speak. She couldn’t just stand there. Couldn’t let him know what it cost her to meet his gaze.
“Hello,
