Operation Homecoming. Justine Davis
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killed,” Walker said.
“Quinn wouldn’t let that happen.”
“No man’s infallible.”
“He’s pretty darn close,” Hayley said cheerfully, and Amy liked how she refused to let her brother’s supposed concern now, when it was far too late, matter. “And of course Cutter would never let that happen, either.”
On his name the dog let out a sharp yip, and Amy had the satisfaction of seeing Walker’s head snap around.
“He go with you everywhere?” Walker asked.
“Pretty much,” Hayley said.
“He’s a loyal sort,” Amy said.
She didn’t realize until she’d spoken the words that they could be interpreted as a jab at Walker. But he didn’t react, and she risked turning her head enough to where she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking over the backseat at Cutter, who was staring back at him. But from that angle she could see his jaw was tight, set.
“He’s also an excellent judge of character,” Hayley said, and Amy gave her friend a startled look, wondering if she was taking a shot at Walker, as well. It was hard to interpret the timing of that comment as anything else. And another glance back at Walker told her he knew it.
But he didn’t protest. He said merely, “So I should be glad he hasn’t torn my throat out, is that it?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s made up his mind yet,” Hayley said, her tone still cheerful as they reached the turnoff for Foxworth. Having visited it several times helping with the wedding, it was familiar to Amy.
“This was the perfect setting,” she said as they drove down the winding drive through the trees. “You were lucky you had such a gorgeous day for the wedding,” she said.
“We were. Winter’s not usually so cooperative around here.”
“And Cutter did his job as ring-bearer perfectly.”
“He did, didn’t you, my sweet boy?”
Cutter made a sound that was half bark, half whine, amazingly like “Yes,” in sound and “Of course” in tone.
“And you couldn’t have scripted the eagles’ flight any better. That was so amazing.”
“It was gasp-worthy, wasn’t it?”
“Nothing like having a soaring stamp of approval from our national symbol in front of everyone,” Amy said with a laugh. “Quite the salute.”
Walker said nothing. But when she glanced once more as she got out of the car, Amy noticed his right hand was clenched atop his knee. And his knuckles were white with the pressure as they talked about the wedding he’d missed.
Good, she thought. And didn’t feel the least vindictive for it.
Well, wasn’t that just a pleasant drive?
Walker had never been so grateful that a trip was over. He told himself neither woman had been sniping at him, that Hayley and Amy were quite naturally talking about the wedding because it had been held here and because that’s what women did.
It didn’t make him feel any better. Nor did looking out at the meadow beyond the anonymous, three-story green building, and trying to picture what it must have looked like set up for the ceremony. He’d seen the photograph of Hayley and Quinn on the table in the living room, and the others along the stairway wall when he’d gone up to take a shower. Something about every one of them had jabbed at him—how beautiful Hayley had been, the way Quinn looked at her as if she were the treasure at the end of the rainbow and the number of people there he didn’t know, yet another part of his sister’s life he had no place in.
And how amazing Amy had looked in the royal blue dress that had skimmed every curve and set her hair off like quiet fire. She’d worn those blue glasses, matching the dress, and he wondered if she’d bought them for that reason. And how many pairs she had. Little Amy had come a long way. Despite the difficulties of her childhood, she’d made a success of herself. In the end, she’d done a heck of a lot better at it than he had.
That it wasn’t entirely his fault didn’t matter much at this point.
The dog, who had been on his feet from the moment they’d turned off the road, was antsy now that they’d come to a halt. Hayley hit the button that raised the back liftgate on the SUV and the dog was out before Walker even had his door open. He watched as the animal trotted toward the door of the building.
A quick glance around showed that the dark blue SUV he’d seen Quinn leave in was parked a few feet down. At the very end of the gravel drive sat an older, rather nondescript silver coupe, like thousands of others on the road. A few yards closer, in between the coupe and Quinn’s vehicle, sat an older, dark gray pickup.
“Liam’s here,” Hayley said.
“He’s that cute Texas boy, right?” Amy said.
“That would be Liam,” Hayley said with a grin.
Cute Texas boy? Walker wondered.
And then he was completely distracted by the sight of his sister’s dog raising up on his hind legs and batting at something near the door. It was, he realized, an automatic door opener, like a handicapped entrance. He wondered if they had regular visitors who needed it, or if they’d put the thing in just for the dog.
The door swung open, and Cutter vanished inside in a rush.
“He’s in a hurry,” Amy said.
“He’s never quite happy if Quinn and I aren’t together.”
Amy laughed, and it was a light, airy thing that made him feel as if a feather had brushed his ear. “And neither are you and Quinn.”
Hayley grinned. “Nope.”
He should be happy for her, Walker thought. And he was happy for her. It was himself he was feeling ridiculously sorry for. He’d known this would be tough; he just hadn’t expected it to be this tough. He thought he even preferred his sister’s anger to this nonchalance, as if he were barely there, or didn’t matter to her at all.
What did you expect?
He reminded himself that he’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and it was a bit early to be giving up. He tried to put himself in her shoes, or better, in Quinn’s. If he loved somebody as much as Quinn obviously loved Hayley, and he came face-to-face with someone who had hurt her so badly, what would he do?
I have no idea. I’ve never loved anyone like that.
He caught the door just as it was about to close behind Amy. For a moment he found himself standing stock-still, watching as she walked into the building. From behind, she looked...amazing. Snug jeans and that blue sweater that had a white tribal sort of design around the bottom edge at the hip. It seemed to emphasize her shape, that sexy curve, the taut backside. The red-brown hair fell halfway down her back in smooth waves, unlike the wild orange curls he remembered. The coloring that had drawn so much unwanted attention to her.
The freckles, he thought suddenly. They, too, had smoothed out, or perhaps she just stayed out of the sun enough that they had faded. He remembered that summer Amy had gone with them on a trip to the coast. He’d been maybe twelve, so Hayley—and Amy—would have been about eight. She’d gotten so sunburned it had been pitiful. But she’d learned her lesson and made sure it hadn’t happened next time.
That was also the trip when he’d first learned of her life. He’d been amazed—and more than a little annoyed—that she exclaimed with wonder over the simplest things. “You really wouldn’t mind?” was the phrase he heard most often from her when his parents acquiesced to something as