Yeah. She’d go right in. Easier said than done. Josie took a deep breath, steeled herself, and walked inside, her attention instantly captured by the male figure perched against the hospital bed.
For the briefest of seconds, time stopped. Memories flooded through her mind, her body, maybe somewhere deeper until her lungs forgot their job. That quickly, she was helpless with the need to heal him. Coughing, she forced air down her throat and took a good look.
Several bandages were strapped across Shane’s muscular torso while a splotchy purple lump rose from his forehead. His long legs were encased in bloody jeans, and he’d crossed his thick boots at the ankles. He sat bare to the waist, his scarred chest and packed abs betraying a life of combat. The new wounds would fit with the rest.
Those scars broke her heart all over again.
His gray eyes lasered in on her, and she fought the urge to run. Pain, need, and familiarity swirled through her brain. Her skin warmed. Damn, he looked good. Dark brown hair swept back from his battered face, and even with the bruises, his rugged features spoke of strength and masculine beauty. Fierce and dangerous like a wolf.
His hair had grown to his shoulders and added a wild new edge to the danger.
She had a lot of layers, and he’d appealed to her on each one by providing security and fulfilling her desperate need to belong. Until he’d abandoned her. She faltered and clutched her handbag strap until the leather cut into her skin.
A throat cleared. “Mrs. Dean?”
“Josie.” She shifted her focus to a man in a rumpled brown suit who leaned against a poster depicting the inner ear. The room was small—examination table, smooth counter with sink, one rolling chair for a doctor. Yet she hadn’t even noticed the other man until he made a sound. “Detective Malloy?”
“Yes.” Shrewd eyes the color of his suit studied her, and he began scribbling in a notebook. “Is this your husband?”
The quiet power of Shane’s presence yanked her attention back to him. Even after all this time, he commanded her body’s responses. He cocked his head as if awaiting her answer.
She nodded. “This is Shane Dean.” This couldn’t be happening. The helplessness she’d felt as a frightened and hurting child in the hospital closed in on her. The need to flee made her knees tremble. She focused on the closest person she had to family, struggling to keep her lips firm. It was really him. Really Shane. “They said you have amnesia.”
Shane gave a short nod. “I can’t remember a damn thing.”
The familiar rumble of his voice slammed into her solar plexus. Emotion washed through her edged with a sharp pain. Two years. Two long years since he’d left her. “What happened?”
The detective stopped writing. “We were hoping you might provide an explanation. Where was your husband going today?”
She barked out a laugh. Seriously? “I have absolutely no idea. We’re separated.”
Shane stilled, the air thickening with tension around him. “We are?”
“I haven’t seen you in two years.” Her voice shook, and she fought to settle raw nerves. She would not let him affect her. “I didn’t even know you were back in the country.”
“What country should he have been in?” the detective asked.
Like she’d know. “He’s in the marines based out of Pendleton. Call them.” Wait a minute. “How did you know to call me if you didn’t know he was in the military?” She took a small step back to study her husband. “And what are you doing in Washington State?”
Shane shrugged. The paper on the table crinkled as he moved. “Dunno. Probably coming to visit you from my home in Oregon? I have an Oregon driver’s license as well as a card with your name and phone number in my wallet… along with our marriage license. Am I from Oregon?”
Her thoughts began to swirl. “Yes. I mean, I think so.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You don’t know?”
“No. I didn’t know much about you, Shane. We met in California and married there.” Within three weeks of meeting each other—the one and only time in her life she’d taken a risk and been spontaneous. Of course it had ended in disaster. She had been so stupid. What had she been thinking?
The detective cleared his throat. “Your husband isn’t wearing dog tags. He was found down by the river, which is miles across the city from your home. To your knowledge, does he know anyone else here in Snowville?”
“No.” At least, she didn’t think so. More than 100,000 people lived in the eastern Washington town. Shane might know somebody else who lived there.
Her knees began to tremble, and she forced them still with stubborn pride. She dug her nails into her palms to quell the urge to caress his bruises. Her romantic notion of being able to heal him, to show him love was possible, had earned her a broken heart. Rightfully so. It was over. They were over. Her body needed to freakin’ remember that fact. As did her heart.
Shane’s eyes sharpened. “When did you move to Washington?”
“Two years ago.”
“When we separated.”
“Yes.”