Silence. Blessed, glorious silence.

Sage had swum the lake many times but never just enjoyed its serenity. She’d always been in too much of a hurry, plowing through the water in a hard breast stroke, revved by thoughts of what she had to do that day, of things she had to organize, of paperwork to complete, and orders to carry out on base. The exercise had always been satisfying but never fulfilling—just another task to cross off the list.

She’d never simply turned over on her back like this and floated. She’d never let the sun warm her face, the breeze flow over her skin, or the water embrace her like a giant swath of liquid velvet…

“Sage!”

So much for metaphors about velvet. Garrett’s bellow might as well have been a bear’s claw ripping through that plush fabric.

She flipped over and gave him a little wave. At first, a smile brimmed to her lips despite his savage tone. Dear God, he was a magnificent sight, even far away on the shore. All those missions he talked about had bulked him in all the right places. His gray tank, emblazoned with ARMY in black letters, was tight against his broad chest. His baggy black shorts hung to the middle of his tree trunk thighs, leaving plenty for her to ogle below that. Even his calves bulged with muscle.

Her expression fell as he stomped into the water, sending a furious spray in his wake. Was he really coming in after her?

“Shit,” she muttered, swimming to the dock. By the time she got there and climbed the ladder at the end, the boards were shaking. Garrett had launched onto them from his end and now marched toward her at a pace resonating somewhere between pissed drill officer and agitated Highlander. She picked up her towel with fingers that trembled despite the summer morning.

“Uh…hey.” Maybe if she pretended he wasn’t pulling a marauding gorilla act, so would he.

No such luck. He halted when he got three feet from her, his glare as scorching as a blow torch. “What the hell are you doing?”

“The last time I checked, it was called swimming.” Sage nodded at the lake. “This big body of water here? You can get in it and float around, and it feels really good. You should try—”

“Are you joking about this?” Forget the blowtorch. His stare went utterly black. The dark energy curled through him, tautening those muscles into a frightening sight. “Damn it, Sage! Do you know what I thought when—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Did you even think to leave a note?”

Her confusion ramped into irritation. “I swim a lot in the mornings, Garrett. Or at least I used to, in the days when I didn’t have to rise every day before sunlight so the rebels, the pirates, the insurgents, and the slave traders wouldn’t find me. This seemed like a nice way to ease into normalcy.” She tugged the towel tighter and started back up the dock. “Whatever the hell ‘normal’ is with you anymore.”

“Wait!”

She didn’t alter her stride. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—handle another second of his chest-beating bullshit. How had she considered this stuff even kind of cute during the trip home? When he’d called her on the flirting act with Ethan and then pulled rank to sit with her instead, she’d labeled the protectiveness kind of cute. She’d outright adored him for it once they got to Sea-Tac and the waiting ocean of media, especially when a lot of the reporters followed them to dinner with Mom, Rayna, and her friend’s small village of a family. She’d been grateful for his blistering glares and dictatorial orders then. They’d been appropriate then!

Not now.

Definitely not now.

She looked out over the water. Just a few ripples remained on the jade and blue surface, reminders of the first peaceful moment she’d known in the last year. But the shimmers were fading fast. Too fast.

“Sage. I said wait.”

She hated herself for stopping. The ire soaked the words she turned and spat at him. “Right. The same way you stopped and waited when walking out on me at the embassy?”

Remorse flashed across his features. It got burned away the next second, as usual, by the overbearing jerk he pulled on more comfortably than those shorts. “Damn it. I’ve explained myself for that. I’ve eaten ten fucking hats with you for that. Don’t go piecing that one together on me again, sugar.”

Before she could help herself, she marched over and jammed a finger in his chest. “Don’t ‘sugar’ me.”

“Fine. But you won’t leave the house again without telling me where you’re going.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, sug—” He jammed his lips together. “You heard me.”

The last three syllables froze Sage’s pulse. No. Not the words. His inflection on them. Low. Anxious. Ominous. Sage raised her gaze and looked at him. Really looked. As she did, slivers of ice shot through her body. Holy crap. She’d been slammed so senseless by Garrett’s fury, she didn’t have time to breathe and remember one of the most basic rules of psychology, practically a tenet for Army Medical Corps members.

Anger was most often spawned by fear.

He wasn’t mad at her. He was afraid for her. From the staunch set of his shoulders to the pulse hammering in his throat, the truth of it came into glaring focus. He was terrified.

Sage pulled her hand back but didn’t surrender her position. “What’s going on, Garrett?” she asked softly. “What are you not telling me?”

He turned his gaze back to the shore. That didn’t prevent her from watching more smoke drop over his eyes. “Just leave me a note the next time you go swimming.”

She blinked. Well, hell. So much for the whole attempt at understanding the ogre. His fist of a tone became a punch to her gut, twisting around everything there in a mix of dread, fury, and frustration.

“Fine,” she spat back. “And I’ll eat my damn cauliflower too. Thanks, Dad.”

It was more than a snarky comment, and she knew they both knew it. The guy who’d contributed his sperm to create her hadn’t been around for her since a drunken rant after her tenth birthday party. She’d been through enough therapy since then to realize she’d likely never speak the word “dad” with affection in this lifetime. Garrett loved her anyway. At least he used to. She wasn’t so sure what he felt for her anymore.

Remarkably, her little bratty test made the slash of his mouth soften a little. He reached and palmed the back of her head, making her breath catch from the warmth it spread through her. When he pressed his lips to her forehead, she released the breath on a sappy sigh.

“You hate cauliflower,” he whispered.

His steps back up the dock were wide, heavy, and resigned.

Sage yanked the towel tighter as she watched him eat up the distance with his strides, letting an equally long thread of bittersweet emotion wind around her heart. A little smile curled her lips. He really remembered…even all the little stuff. And his whisper, given with such tenderness, told her that more than a few sparks of his old self still burned inside his warrior’s shell.

Those sparks gave her hope. Maybe, if those cinders were mixed with the smokescreen he’d billowed to keep the whole world out, they could kindle into something new, someone new. A Garrett who was burned yet better. Different but stronger.

A man who could handle the woman she’d become.

She realigned her stance and held her head high. Okay, there was hope. Yeah, it was going to take more bratty moves, more pissing him off, and a lot more of staying one step ahead of him, especially to find out what had caused that new fear in his stare and that new coil of tension in his shoulders. But the hope was here. The hope was real.

As she let it fill her heart, she smiled and murmured, “Yeah, dork. You hate cauliflower too.” And as she followed him back up the dock, she deliberately set a slow, thoughtful pace. Plans like this took time and care, especially when it came to an attempt at changing the will of her intractable, adorable fiancé. And despite his every-move-you-make watchfulness, she found it funny that Garrett hadn’t grabbed a huge clue about their new reality. The last year had molded her will into an entity as formidable as his. She would not fail this mission, even if she damn near killed herself in the process.