Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

"Of course it was." He jerked around to face her, passed her a water glass. "I never thought otherwise."

Did she really think so little of him that she expected recriminations? Jesus. He might have hurt her, but never like that.

Brown eyes wary, she took the cup from him without touching. "You are not moving home because of the baby. Let's get that straight right now. Our reasons for splitting still stand."

He leaned back against the wall, crossing one booted foot over the other. "What were those reasons again?"

"Don't be an ass."

"Ah, reason number one." He drank half the cup of water in one swallow, icy cold along heated anger.

She'd called him a major ass during their fight six months ago about the number-two strain on their marriage. Money.

"I'm sorry." Rena's voice softened. She rolled the cup between her palms. "My temper is right up there on the reason list. I drive you crazy. I know that."

"Oh yeah, babe—" a slow smile crept over his face "—you've definitely always driven me crazy."

Well, hell. So much for smart strategies. But the unstoppable spark between them always had messed with their minds. Apparently still did.

"J.T., damn it." She slammed her cup down on the end table beside a basket of flowers. "That's what got us into this mess before. And again now."

His smile faded. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to pressure you about getting back together." No pressure about it. Slow and steady won the day with his wife.

"You're not?"

"No." Think strategy, not how much easier it would be to kiss her quiet. Not about how tight the knot twisted in his stomach over the thought that even if he made it home, they weren't any better off than before. "You made yourself clear when you pitched my barbells and books out on the lawn six months ago."

And the reason for that final fight? They'd argued over the flipping family Christmas vacation, for God's sake. She'd insisted his lengthy deployments were taking a toll, making growing apart too easy. His fault. He knew it.

So he'd offered to take leave. Not good enough. She'd wanted to rent a cabin in the mountains, something she insisted they could afford now that she was working.

Hell. As if he needed it thrown in his face that he couldn't provide for his family on his own. As if he needed reminding of all the things she'd had growing up. Things he couldn't come close to giving her.

A fact that had been stewing in his gut for twenty-two years.

"Well, J.T., tossing those possessions on the lawn was just the start of venting problems years in the making. Three months ago proved that." She gripped the length of her hair in her hands and began twisting it into a knot on the back of her head. "We'll just draw up a new set of divorce papers."

His eyes tracked the moves of her hands against her glossy curls. He'd always wondered how the hell she did that trick with her hair, had watched her hundreds of times, the memory of those strands gliding through his fingers never failing to make him hard.

He finished his water, pitched his cup in the trash. "Not until you're up and moving again. The doc said you need to stay off your feet for at least two weeks.">He scuffed a gym shoe again just as he'd done at nine years old when lying about dumping his sister's makeup into the sewer system. Squeak. Squeak.

J.T. pinned him with a parental stare and knowledge. "You knew already."

Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Geez, Dad, and Nikki calls me a bonehead. How could you not notice Mom's getting fat?"

"Good God, son. Shh!" J.T. shot a quick glance at Rena to make sure she was still sleeping. "Don't let her hear you say the f word."

"Sorry." Shuffle. Squeak. "I figured it wasn't my place to mention anything and Mom didn't need to be upset in her, you know, condition. Guess this means you're coming home."

He intended to, but no need to raise Chris's hopes. "Your mother and I need to talk first."

Chris slouched, muttering something that sounded like a surly "About damn time."

J.T. bit back the urge for a reprimand on a day already full of enough tension. "Son, I'm sorry to say your car's totaled. The van that hit it wiped it out."

Chris paled under the bronzed complexion he'd inherited from his mother along with the head of dark curls. "Totaled?"

"Afraid so. Insurance will cover everything after the deductible, but it may take a while for the check to come through. There isn't money for a replacement until we get the settlement." And didn't that bite a chunk out of his pride, not being able to provide for his family.