After stomping around outside the cabin for over an hour, Tushar finally stepped back inside, his frustration marginally under control. The ranch where they were staying was secluded and well-protected. Obviously a fence wouldn’t keep out anyone who wanted to scale it and get inside, but the various men working on the ranch were all former military and paying close attention.

The cabin was located far from the main entrance. Reaching it by foot would be treacherous. Rugged terrain would make it difficult. Any approaching vehicle would be heard from far away in the silence.

The bottom line was that Tushar felt safe here. Safe enough to walk around outside—or stomp, as the case may be. Safe enough to set the alarm at night and sleep soundly. Safe enough to keep his stubborn wife from getting killed.

He hadn’t told her everything. His intention had been to spare her from the details, especially so soon after she’d been revived. He’d already been dealing with the threats for weeks.

She wasn’t ready.

But it was time anyway.

He knocked on the door softly and then eased it open to find her curled on her side, facing away from him on the far end of the bed. He wasn’t sure if she was sleeping, but he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and took a few breaths. “I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

She stiffened visibly, telling him she was at least awake and listening.

“The threats started before you first woke up. They were serious. Many were even directed at you personally. Most were directed at me. I was scared to death.”

She pulled her body in tighter, still facing the wall.

“We were the leaders of that team. Word got out and spread fast about the reanimations. I realize the bunker is safe, but the crowd outside the main gates grew by the day. At first there were a handful of people protesting and hoping for an interview. Ryan was already dealing with that before I was reanimated.

“But then the crowd grew, not only in numbers but intensity. They were no longer simply picketing or thrusting cameras in everyone’s faces. They were hostile. I can’t begin to imagine how Ryan felt when Emily was kidnapped.” If something like that ever happened to Trish…

She finally rolled onto her back and turned her head toward him, saying nothing.

“It wasn’t just your safety and mine we had to consider. The entire bunker is in jeopardy. Yes, it’s protected. Yes, it’s guarded at all times. But, Trish, the last thing I want is for a huge mob to breach the gate of that bunker and put everyone inside at risk. Not just the living, but those who are still in cryostats.

“Temple was growing increasingly more nervous by the day. She probably would have preferred moving me before you were awake, but I didn’t want to leave without you. We were dealing with a ticking clock. I did the best I could to give you enough time to spend with Ryan as well as get on your feet. But Temple was growing agitated enough that I knew we needed to get out of there.”

She sighed. “You kept all that from me?”

“You were fragile.”

“Since when have I ever been fragile?”

He forced a half grin. “Hell, I was fragile when I first woke up. I can only compare it to how I felt. You didn’t need added stress. You still don’t. But I can see that moving you to this ranch has increased your stress level and I’ve made it worse by keeping secrets. I’m sorry.”

“So what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait for eternity?”

He sighed. “I don’t know yet. But we left with a lot of fanfare on purpose, so that everyone at the gate would spread the word that the two of us were no longer inside the bunker. Hopefully it will cut down on some of the threats. After all, it’s you and I they’re after.”

“Why?”

He hated to add this last part because he knew it might infuriate her further. “Because I made a public statement saying I was the one who instigated the entire thing. I led people to believe I personally performed the vitrification of all twenty-one people, even going so far as to imply that no one had a choice or knew what had been done to them.”

She bolted to sitting. “Why the hell would you do that?”

He smiled. “To take the heat off the bunker and everyone inside. Our son. Emily. The government. The military. The country. The most important thing is to ensure the safety of those who can’t speak for themselves yet. I may not have made the decision personally to preserve the team, but I did play a key role. I made an arrangement with Temple to take the heat for the team.”

She nodded slowly. “I get it. If everyone believes the rest of the team had no say in their preservation, then they can’t be angry with them individually.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, word got out that we were married and also the last two people standing ten years ago. Your name got tied to me. And even if it hadn’t, there was always the threat you could be kidnapped and held in order to get to me.” He shuddered. He and Trish might be nearly strangers, but she was the mother of his child, and the last thing he would ever want would be for anything to happen to her.

“Do you think Emily’s kidnapping was related in any way to the current threats?”

“No. I think her incident was isolated. That man was crazy, thinking she could somehow bring his daughter back. I don’t think it’s related, but it does go to prove that every one of us will have to spend the rest of our lives watching our backs.”

She stared at him, most likely processing.

He inhaled slowly and continued. “There’s more.”

Her eye widened, but her brows drew together too.

“Someone is working that crowd. Someone has information about us, and they’re selling it to anyone who’s willing to pay. The man who kidnapped Emily bought her details. A reporter also bought Emily’s information even before her name was public. I’m certain there are others.”

“No one knows who’s doing this?”

He sighed. “A man was arrested, but he was working for someone else. He doesn’t know who he was working for. He was in it for the money.”

“So they’re at a dead end?”

“So far. Temple is working every angle she can, but it’s not easy. Meanwhile, we don’t know how far this goes, what the motives are, or how deep their pockets are.”

“How the hell did someone get all those details?” She visibly shuddered.

For a moment, Tushar considered keeping that last piece of information to himself, but then he shook away the idea when he realized she would probably kill him in his sleep if she found out he held anything back.

It turned out his hesitation gave Trish enough time to figure it out on her own. Her eyes widened. “There’s a mole?”

He nodded. “I have to assume so.”

“Shit. There aren’t that many people working in the bunker. Can’t Temple figure out who it is?”

“There are more people there than you would think. Too many people have had access to the details of everyone working on the project. Not to mention the number of government officials outside the bunker who are informed. It could be someone we don’t even know.”

She slowly leaned against the pillows on her back again. Her body was shaking. “Thank you for informing me. Don’t you dare keep shit from me again.” She rolled onto her side to face the wall again.

His breath caught. That went well. “Promise.” Great. This little chat was so helpful to his cause. Renewed frustration made him shove off the bed and leave the room. He shut the door silently behind him and headed for the kitchen area. Thank God his kind hosts had stocked the fridge with beer. He needed a few.

He also needed to figure out his next move. Obviously coming clean with her hadn’t done him any good. It might have made her angrier.

He stared out the small window over the sink, sipping the beer. The cabin was going to feel awfully small very fast if they were at each other’s throats. He could only do so much traipsing around outside. For one thing, it was cold. For another thing, he didn’t like to leave her alone. She wasn’t stable yet. Not physically or emotionally.

His stomach grumbled. It was midafternoon. Neither of them had eaten anything since breakfast. He should figure out something to eat. It would take his mind off the elephant in the room for a while.

After staring into the fridge for several moments, he decided to make spaghetti. How hard could it be?

Apparently pretty hard. He was quickly in over his head, the small kitchen covered with pots and pans and utensils and cutting boards and a ridiculous assortment of raw food.

“What are you doing?”

The voice coming from the doorway to the bedroom made him look up from the onion he was chopping. He smiled. “Cooking.”

She lifted a brow. “Since when do you cook?” She looked so sweet leaning in the doorway. Young. For a moment he had a flash of her in her early twenties when they’d first moved in together and she found out he couldn’t cook.

He’d felt sheepish then, and he did again now. Nostalgia made him wish he could sweep her off her feet and kiss her senseless like he would have done all those years ago. How would she react?

“Since right now.” She wasn’t wrong. He’d still never cooked in his life. He had a basic idea of what might go into spaghetti, but that was about it. “I’ve seen your mother make meat sauce and pasta. I figured it couldn’t be too hard.”

She leaned her hip against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “How’s that working out?”

He glanced around at the partially butchered onion, the green pepper he had cut in half and then wasn’t sure about the seeds, the jar of sauce he’d already poured into a pan before deciding that probably wasn’t supposed to be the first step… “Not well.”

She finally smiled, dropped her arms, and shuffled closer to the kitchen area. “You’re going to need to throw away the outside of the onion. We don’t eat the brown parts.”

“Got it.” He grabbed the small trash can, dragged it closer, and pushed the outer layers into the trash. “What about the center of the green pepper?”

She shook her head. “Toss that too.” She glanced around. “Are we expecting company?”

He frowned. “No. Why?”

“Because if you chop up that entire onion and green pepper and use the whole jar of sauce and two pounds of ground beef, we’ll be eating spaghetti for a month.”

“Well, at least we won’t have to cook again for a while.”

She might have smiled again, but the best part was that she joined him in the kitchen, putting a pot of water on to boil and lighting a flame under a small skillet. She poured olive oil in it next and then took the chopped vegetables from him and sautéed them in the pan. At least he thought that was the meaning of the word sauté.

With very few words, she pulled his meal together, tucking used dishes into the dishwasher as she went along. There wasn’t enough counter space for everything.

There was an easy bag of salad in the fridge which she tossed and set on the table at the last second. And then they were eating. Two normal people having a meal. Not speaking much but sitting at the same table.

When they were finished, she helped him clean the kitchen and then lowered herself onto the sofa. Without a television, they were going to have to get creative. Especially if it snowed.

Normal people—married or otherwise—would probably spend their days in bed, taking advantage of the getaway to reconnect.

Sex.

As he lowered into the armchair across from her, he took in this small woman who was his wife. She was curled in a ball on one end of the couch, her chin resting on the arm, her feet tucked under her.

She was just as attractive as the day he met her. No one would know she was forty-six. No one would ever suspect she was really fifty-six. It was obvious the ten years in suspension truly preserved them at their previous age. It was very strange to wake up only fifteen years older than his son.

Trish was a beautiful woman. Her long, blond hair had quickly returned to its wavy bounce. Her pale skin and blue eyes would always draw the attention of anyone around. Her features were soft. Kind. Loving.

From the moment he met her in a chemistry class at West Point, he’d been mesmerized by her easy mannerisms and her classic blond looks. What she’d seen in him was a mystery, but thank God she had because he couldn’t imagine his life having led a different path. Except perhaps for the ten-year vitrification part.

He was a second-generation American citizen born of Indian parents who gave him his darker skin, nearly black hair, and dark eyes. People had always done a double take when they saw the two of them together. Night and day.

Tushar’s mind was on the day he first saw her when she suddenly spoke. “I can’t remember when we started growing apart.”

He swallowed.

She continued, lifting her gaze to his. “It wasn’t intentional, I don’t think. At least not on my part. It just happened. Maybe lots of married couples get too comfortable after twenty years and neglect each other.”

He nodded, his throat too choked up to contribute.

“I don’t know you, Tushar.”

He flinched. He knew she was right, but it hurt.

“We’re strangers occupying the same space.”

Her words stung. “We just need to get to know each other again.”

She sighed. “I don’t even know who I am right now. I’m not sure I have the energy to figure out who you are too.”

He froze. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know, Tushar.”

“Ryan said Emily struggled with finding herself when she woke up too. She’s still working toward a new identity. It takes time.”

“I’m sure it does.” She took a long slow breath. “It’s like everything I was is gone. I can’t even be the doctor I was. I don’t know a thing about the latest developments. The thought of going back to school to catch up brings bile to my throat.”

He totally understood what she meant about being behind on the latest advances. That was one of the hardest struggles. After being at the top of his field for two decades, he woke up to find out he was way behind, as if he had a ten-year amnesia. Unlike Trish, he had been looking into the possibility of taking classes. It sounded like fun. He loved learning. But it wasn’t for everyone.

“You don’t have to stay in medicine if you don’t want. You get to reinvent yourself. Be anything you want to be,” he offered, hoping to sound upbeat but not too cheery. She didn’t look like cheery was going to work for her today. She hadn’t been cheery since the moment she awoke three weeks ago.

She leaned her head back on the arm of the sofa. “I don’t have the foggiest notion what that would be. I’m a medical professional. It’s all I ever hoped to be. I don’t want to start over, and I don’t have a backup plan.”

“You don’t have to make any decisions today. Take some time to relax, get physically stronger. The mental side will fall into place eventually.” He hoped.

“It’s hard to concentrate on anything with you constantly hovering around me walking on eggshells. It’s driving me crazy.”

He flinched. “Are you saying you want to split up?” Because that is not at all what I want. Tushar wanted his wife back. He wanted to woo her like he did twenty-five years ago by his clock. He was still attracted to her. Was she no longer attracted to him?

“No. It wouldn’t even be an option if I did want to. It’s costing the government money to protect us. It would put an added strain on Temple if she had to provide two sets of bodyguards.”

Those words stabbed him harder than any others. It sounded like she would walk right out the door in a heartbeat if it weren’t for their predicament. In any case, if this was the only glue holding them together, he needed to take advantage of it and use it to get her back. To get them back on track. To put their marriage to rights. Whatever that might look like. “I’m not in favor of splitting up, Trish. I’m willing to do the work. I hope you are too.”

Another deep sigh. “I don’t know. I need time. I need you to let me find myself. Stop hovering. Give me space.”

Space. Where the hell could he possibly go to give her space? He swallowed his fear. “Okay. I can do that. Whatever you need.”

Just don’t leave me.