Page 45 of In Every Chapter

“So what do you say?” I said to Flo. “Am I good enough to come back to work?”

Flo sniffed and shifted a few books around on her desk. “If you’re up to it, I’ll see you next Tuesday morning.”

“I’ll be here with bells on.”

Her eye twitched—the exact reaction I was hoping for. “I sincerely hope not,” she said with a final harrumph.

Chapter eighteen

Greyson

On Saturday, before we were due at my parents’ house for the celebratory playoff-win barbecue, I holed up in my workshop behind the house, trying to finish the latest custom bookshelf I’d promised a customer.

My dad had always been handy, and I’d taken after him in that department. Be it wood or cars, building and fixing things were my stress outlet. It had been Paisley who initially encouraged me to start selling the pieces I crafted after we got married, since she was obsessed with the bookshelves I’d built as her wedding present. And the extra income didn’t hurt either, especially when I got to do what I loved at the same time.

Last I’d checked, Paisley was inside, resting on the sofa, book in one hand and arm hanging down to pet Rosie with the other. I tried not to hover, and when I’d come into the house for my second glass of water in a thirty-minute window, she shooed me out with a look that told me she was onto me. But I’d left the back porch screen door open, so if she needed something, I’d know.

My phone rang next to me on the workbench, and I winced at the name flashing across the screen. Keegan Tate wasn’t a bad guy; he was a fellow retired Marine starting up a new security-detail company—a fancy name for bodyguards, really—that employed veterans. It was a way for them to use their training in a civilian way, and honestly, it was brilliant. He’d offered me a job, but the main problem? The start-up was in Tennessee.

Paisley and I had been discussing it before the accident. But now . . .

Sighing, I wiped my hands on a rag and tapped to answer. “Keegan.”

“Grey, my man, I hope you got good news for me.” Keegan’s voice was too bright.

My gut clenched, but I kept my tone even. “Not the news you’re hoping for.”

“So you’re not moving forward? You sounded pretty stoked about it before.”

Stoked was a strong word. I was considering the option, nothing more. “That was before.” I cleared my throat. “My wife was . . . in an accident. Moving isn’t a good plan right now.” While it was a good gig, Tennessee was a long way from home.

Keegan swore softly. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Pais has amnesia. She doesn’t remember our conversations about the job offer. I can’t uproot her right now.” Not when she was struggling to figure out where she belonged.

“It’s a lucrative offer,” he said enticingly. “A lot to give up for a woman.”

“Not any woman. My wife,” I ground out through gritted teeth.

Keegan wasn’t heartless, but he was a divorced, uninvolved dad who put the casual in dating. He wouldn’t understand.

“Is she okay?” he had the courtesy to ask.

“Yeah, just . . . working through a lot.” Keegan and I weren’t super close, so I wasn’t about to spill my guts about all the hiccups we’d come up against.

“Okay, man. I mean it’s your choice, and I can’t promise the position will still be here when she figures her life out or whatever, but call me if you change your mind, okay? Good luck.”

“Gonna need more than luck,” I grunted. Then pulled my phone away from my ear to stare at the blank screen. “And goodbye to you too.”

I shook my head and dropped the phone back on the workbench, keeping it handy in case Paisley texted. Two seconds later, it rang again.

“Keegan, if this is you . . .” I muttered but stopped when Gabe Carson’s name popped up. “Gabe, hey.”

“Hey, yourself. I heard what happened. Sorry it took me so long to call. We were on a training exercise.”

I chuckled wryly and sank down on the workbench. “After this week, I almost envy you.”

“How is she?”