thout a backward glance at Shannyn’s desk, went through the door with his physiotherapist.
“Hey, Kirkpatrick.” Carrie paused, then pierced Shannyn with a questioning look. “Isn’t Kirkpatrick the name of…”
Shannyn confirmed it with a twitch of her eyebrow.
Carrie grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it close, plopping down. “Then it is a ghost.”
“He’s very real, I’m afraid.” Shannyn took Mrs. Gilmore’s file and handed it over, torn between wanting to talk about it and wanting to pretend he wasn’t back at all.
“Did he even recognize you?” The file went forgotten in Carrie’s hand.
Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn’t recognized her, although after all they’d shared there was little chance of it. It might have been easier to take though, than the cold reception she’d been given.
“Oh, he knows who I am. He just doesn’t seem to care. Which is just as it should be.” She tried hard to be glad Jonas had been so cold. If he wasn’t interested in her now, it made her life a whole lot easier.
Carrie looked at her watch. “I wish we could talk. I’ve got to run or I’ll be behind. We’ll chat later, okay?” Carrie reached over and gave Shannyn’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
There was nothing for them to talk about, not really. Jonas would move along soon enough, and she’d still be left behind. After his impersonal greeting this morning, it was very clear he didn’t hold any lingering feelings for her at all. That was for the best. Dreams were well and good, but reality was a whole other ball game. She’d learned that the hard way, a long time ago. Everything would be much easier this way in the end.
Shannyn sighed. Jonas would be temporary, no matter how much she’d never been able to completely let go. But temporary wasn’t good enough. Not anymore.
Shannyn attempted to go back to her monthly reports, but her heart wasn’t in it. She kept picturing Jonas’s limp and wondered what he was going through with his therapy. Wondered what had brought him to this point in his life.
Questions she had no right to ask.
After an hour had passed Jonas reappeared at her desk. She looked up at him over the counter. Goodness, he was tall. It was one of the things she’d always really liked about him. Jonas was easily six-one and seemed to stand even taller after his physio session.
“I need to book my next appointment.”
“How frequently are you supposed to have sessions?” Shannyn tried to keep her voice professional and light.
“Once a week, for now.”
She opened up the schedule. This was ridiculous. They were talking over appointments like they were complete strangers. Yet bridging the gap, making it personal, she’d tried that already and he’d been cool and dismissive. She straightened her shoulders. “Next Thursday, two-thirty in the afternoon is all I’ve got.”
“That’s fine.”
She wrote it on a card for him and started to hand it over the gray counter. But when his fingers closed on it, she knew she couldn’t let him go without asking one question.
“Jonas…your leg. It’s all right?”
“My leg’s fine.”
“How long are you on base, then?” Her heart stopped as she finished the question, not knowing which answer she preferred—the short or the long.
For a moment, just the space of a breath, his eyes spoke to her, delving in, acknowledging that he wasn’t as cold as he seemed. But then he shuttered it away. Shannyn knew she hadn’t imagined it. There was still a connection. Perhaps it was only the memory of what had been, but it was there, and she wished it wasn’t. It would be much easier if she felt nothing at all.
“This is my station. I have no plans to be going elsewhere in the foreseeable future.”
Here, for good? She swallowed. A short trip would have been easier to take. Certainly less risky. But she also knew that “for good” was a relative term. No one in the military was ever in one place for long.
“All right then,” she replied dumbly.
He turned crisply and went to the door, his limp slightly less pronounced than it had been before his appointment.
He left without looking back.
He was really good at that. And she’d do well to remember it.