They were alone. Completely alone for the first time in months. No kids. No guests.
No interruptions.
Kicking the door closed, he ambled toward the table, hands in pockets, slow, deliberate, sexy. "Does she really have a thing for one of the guys in the squadron?"
Rena's brain stuttered as she tried to follow his conversational shift. Then it hit her. They always talked about their children to disperse tension and avoid deeper discussions.
A wise course of action tonight with plenty of tension snapping along the air between them.
"Nikki has been coming home more often since we roped her into helping out with the games at the squadron children's Christmas party. And of course she spent as much time as possible home right after…" Rena swallowed, forced herself not to sidestep the hard topics. "After you were released from Rubistan. But she's never mentioned any particular man to me."
"Good."
"Why so?" Had she soured his thoughts on marriage that much? "Don't you want to see your daughter settled? Have grandkids someday?"
"Someday. Not now." He jerked a spindle chair around, straddled it backward. "And not with a crewdog."
J.T.'s words shocked her silly. What an odd statement from him, a man so devoted to the Air Force. "No question, this isn't always an easy way of life. But I would think the load would be lighter for a couple meant to be together, in sync with each other."
She watched for a reaction from him, some sign that maybe this new perception of his might bode well for them on some level in dealing with their future, even if that future didn't involve them as a couple. A thought that still stung.
But she found no softening from him, just his regular closed expression, dark eyes with full-strength defenses in place. It was almost as if the man wasn't even with her. His body was at her table going through the motions, doing what was right, but his mind was somewhere else.
Definitely not with her.
Major sting.
She speared another buffalo wing off the platter, twisted the bones apart. Crack. Crack.
J.T. shot up from his chair.
Rena lowered her hands back to her plate. "Something wrong?"
He stared at the broken chicken bones in her fingers. "Are you ready to go upstairs?"
Did he have to sound so ready to get rid of her? "I'm still eating, but if you want to go up, I can maneuver a few steps. You don't have to stay."
He dropped onto the vacant chair beside her. "I'll wait." His heels were dug in deep. She sighed her surrender, tossed aside the last wing and wiped her fingers. "Okay, fine. I'm ready. Thank you."
He stood, slid his arms under her, lifted her in a smooth sweep. Their faces were inches apart, and this time no one would open a door or interrupt.
J.T. cradled her against his chest and started down the hall. He turned sideways to angle up the stair, his gym shoes padding quietly on the wooden steps. Framed school photos and family portraits lined the walls, up, faces growing younger and happier with every step.
He cleared the top stair. "Do you, uh, need help getting into the shower or anything?"
"I took a shower at the hospital. I'm okay for now. And I really can use the crutches with no problem most of the time."
"No shower then."
Was he disappointed? She couldn't tell by the rigid set of his square jaw. More frightening, was she disappointed?
Their bed sprawled big and inviting and lonely ahead of her with four large oak posts, wedding ring quilt, fluffy pillows in matching shams.
So many memories.
He lowered her to the giving softness as he'd done often before, except this time easing away. "Shout if you need anything. I'll be right back with your crutches, and then right across the hall."
In Nikki's old room, no parking his boots under their bed. "J.T.?" she called, not sure what she would say, just certain she wasn't ready to see those broad shoulders leave through her doorway yet.