Still, I couldn’t help but be glad for myself because I saw my chance. And I took it.”
“But you never told me, even after we began courting.”
“I thought that would have been bad-mannered, a low-down dirty thing to do. And I swear, I didn’t wish for anything to happen to him. I didn’t want to take advantage of you because you were hurting and lonely. I wanted to win you with what I had to offer.” He chuckled. “I admit it wasn’t a lot. Still isn’t.” He’d never revealed so much about himself to her. Ever. “You know about my life…I lost my family early on. I kind of felt like I had one here.”
“Oh, Tanner.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she felt a twisting pain in her chest that reached all the way down into her stomach. Was there anything about this miserable situation that didn’t involve heartache? Where was the happiness she’d finally known, the contentment? First it had been ripped away from her when Riley went off to that damned war and she thought he was dead.Now he was back, and she was put in the middle of the worst dilemma she could imagine.
“When I won you, I thought I was the luckiest man on the face of the earth. All the waiting and hopelessness, and me never able to speak my heart because my conscience held me back—all that was over. We were married and nothing would change it. Or so I thought. Then Riley came back, rose from the dead , the last person I wanted to see.” In frustration, he punched the wall beside him, scraping his knuckles badly enough to make them bleed. “If the circumstances were any different, I’d fight for you—and win—without thinking twice. But how am I supposed to battle a man who doesn’t remember who he is? A man who isn’t legally your husband, who doesn’t remember what it was like being married to you, or from what I can tell, doesn’t remember you or anything about his life here except what he’s been told.” He looked down at the floor. “You might come home to me, and you might not.”
This was as frank and honest as he had ever been with her.
“You assume that I’ll choose Riley over you?”
He shook his head and laughed, but it was a bitter, anguished sound. “Well, you’re my wife, but I’m back where I started. Oh, fate must be laughing at me now.”
• • •
Virgil Tilly was polishing glasses behind the bar when Cole pushed open the swinging doors with Riley dragging up behind him. It had sounded like a good idea when Cole suggested it, but now Riley was feeling overwhelmed. Encountering more strangers who knew him while he remained ignorant of them seemed daunting. Some had known him since he was a boy, and they meant nothing to him.
The small saloon—now promoted as a soda fountain—didn’t look like any of the fountains he’d seen on the way out here, and he suspected it didn’t fool anyone either. He’d seen women and children in those other places, sitting at tables, sipping phosphates and spooning up sundaes. Here spittoons were placed in convenient locations around the sawdust floor, which had peanut shells mixed in. The bar was short and the air veiled in smoke and the smell of bacon. There were four or five tables in the place. The one in the corner by the woodstove was taken by a few customers who were busy with a card game. Between sips of some kind of liquor and adding to the peanut shells under their feet, they shuffled a grimy deck. Stuffed animal heads hung on the walls along with various signs advising customers In God We Trust—All Others Pay Cash , No Spitting on The Floor , and other sorts of warnings and advice.
Before Cole could say anything, Virgil Tilly spotted them.
“Flip my flap, if it ain’t Riley Braddock!” He stopped polishing the glass in his hand and whipped the bar towel over his shoulder.
Cole moved forward but Riley lingered near the doorway, fighting the urge to escape. As if sensing his discomfort, Cole reached out to put a guiding hand on his elbow and
“But you never told me, even after we began courting.”
“I thought that would have been bad-mannered, a low-down dirty thing to do. And I swear, I didn’t wish for anything to happen to him. I didn’t want to take advantage of you because you were hurting and lonely. I wanted to win you with what I had to offer.” He chuckled. “I admit it wasn’t a lot. Still isn’t.” He’d never revealed so much about himself to her. Ever. “You know about my life…I lost my family early on. I kind of felt like I had one here.”
“Oh, Tanner.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she felt a twisting pain in her chest that reached all the way down into her stomach. Was there anything about this miserable situation that didn’t involve heartache? Where was the happiness she’d finally known, the contentment? First it had been ripped away from her when Riley went off to that damned war and she thought he was dead.Now he was back, and she was put in the middle of the worst dilemma she could imagine.
“When I won you, I thought I was the luckiest man on the face of the earth. All the waiting and hopelessness, and me never able to speak my heart because my conscience held me back—all that was over. We were married and nothing would change it. Or so I thought. Then Riley came back, rose from the dead , the last person I wanted to see.” In frustration, he punched the wall beside him, scraping his knuckles badly enough to make them bleed. “If the circumstances were any different, I’d fight for you—and win—without thinking twice. But how am I supposed to battle a man who doesn’t remember who he is? A man who isn’t legally your husband, who doesn’t remember what it was like being married to you, or from what I can tell, doesn’t remember you or anything about his life here except what he’s been told.” He looked down at the floor. “You might come home to me, and you might not.”
This was as frank and honest as he had ever been with her.
“You assume that I’ll choose Riley over you?”
He shook his head and laughed, but it was a bitter, anguished sound. “Well, you’re my wife, but I’m back where I started. Oh, fate must be laughing at me now.”
• • •
Virgil Tilly was polishing glasses behind the bar when Cole pushed open the swinging doors with Riley dragging up behind him. It had sounded like a good idea when Cole suggested it, but now Riley was feeling overwhelmed. Encountering more strangers who knew him while he remained ignorant of them seemed daunting. Some had known him since he was a boy, and they meant nothing to him.
The small saloon—now promoted as a soda fountain—didn’t look like any of the fountains he’d seen on the way out here, and he suspected it didn’t fool anyone either. He’d seen women and children in those other places, sitting at tables, sipping phosphates and spooning up sundaes. Here spittoons were placed in convenient locations around the sawdust floor, which had peanut shells mixed in. The bar was short and the air veiled in smoke and the smell of bacon. There were four or five tables in the place. The one in the corner by the woodstove was taken by a few customers who were busy with a card game. Between sips of some kind of liquor and adding to the peanut shells under their feet, they shuffled a grimy deck. Stuffed animal heads hung on the walls along with various signs advising customers In God We Trust—All Others Pay Cash , No Spitting on The Floor , and other sorts of warnings and advice.
Before Cole could say anything, Virgil Tilly spotted them.
“Flip my flap, if it ain’t Riley Braddock!” He stopped polishing the glass in his hand and whipped the bar towel over his shoulder.
Cole moved forward but Riley lingered near the doorway, fighting the urge to escape. As if sensing his discomfort, Cole reached out to put a guiding hand on his elbow and
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