Julie Miller - Basic Training

“So, are you okay with Ethan marrying someone else? Do you wish things had been different?”

“You mean do I wish I’d married Ethan instead of Barry?” Her resolute sigh spoke volumes. “It wasn’t in the cards for Ethan and me. The chemistry just wasn’t there—not like it is with J.C. Even at eighteen, we were smart enough to know we made better friends than we’d make lovers. On the other hand, I had chemistry up the wazoo with Barry. Sex was always great with him. Of course, apparently, it was also great with all the other women in his life.” She hugged her arms around her own waist as she shared a painful nugget of hard-won wisdom. “I needed Barry to be a better friend.”

Tess had already suspected as much. “So you’re saying that you can’t mix the two—that a man can’t be a great friend and a great lover?”

“It’s been impossible for me.”

Maybe Tess held her sister’s gaze a moment too long and gave something away. By the time she’d turned back to the window to spy on Travis, Amy was wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“That was my experience, kiddo. I’m sure it’s different for other men and women.”

Not for her. Tess had more male friends than she could count. She hadn’t had a lover since…oh, crap…had it really been three summers ago? A forgettable one-night stand with a visiting soldier she’d met in a bar during the Bay Festival. Yikes. How trite.

At that time, she’d been thinking way too much about Travis’s kiss and wondering why no other man’s passion had ever equalled that one, perfect, stupid night. Maybe over the years, she’d idealized what had almost happened between them. So instead of wallowing in what-if’s and why-not’s, she’d thrown caution to the wind and jumped into bed with the eager soldier. Ugh. So much for life on the wild side. She hadn’t seen any action since.

Big sis gave Tess a stern shake. “Hey. The right man is out there for you—one who can flip your switch and you still trust him in the morning.” She peeked out the window. “Who knows? Maybe he’s right under your nose.”

Tess scoffed. “Travis?”

“Why not?” Amy shrugged. “Since I’m currently off men at the moment, and Ethan went and found his own woman, that means it’s up to you and Travis to finally bring the Bartletts and McCormicks together.”

“Yeah, right. You just said men and women can’t be friends and lovers.” Tess managed to smile. “Hal hired me to be Travis’s physical therapist while he’s at home. I’m not his dating service. I’m sure once the ladies of Ashton hear that the ‘Action Man’ is back in town, they’ll be lining up with chicken soup and skimpy negligees, ready to fulfill his every need.”

Amy reprimanded her little sister with stern brown eyes. “Hey. Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll bet Travis or Morty or a dozen other men in this town would love to see you in a skimpy negligee.”

“Two problems with that scenario,” Tess insisted. “One, I don’t own anything skimpy, and two—”

But she never got to the joke about how she knew more about making chicken soup than seducing a man.

Instead, she pulled the curtain aside and held her breath as Travis unfolded himself from the backseat of his father’s car—with Ethan’s help. She frowned as the green camouflage uniform stiffly straightened itself to take the shape and form of the man whom she’d always cared so deeply about.

Travis was a leaner, harder version of his more muscular brother. The athleticism that had fine-tuned his body for battle was still evident, but his balance was off. Travis hauled himself up by the car frame, plopped a cloth cap over his short, burnished hair. Then he held on to Ethan’s arm while he retrieved something from the backseat.

A cane.

“Poor Travis,” Amy whispered in sympathy. “I had no idea.”

Tess’s hand fisted around the edge of the curtain, betraying the concern and compassion that gripped her chest just as tightly.

Once he was free of the car door, Travis shook Ethan off and proceeded up the driveway to the front door under his own power. But Tess’s sharp eye for physical weaknesses and pain could tell that, despite the unwavering set of his shoulders, Travis was relying heavily on that cane. His left leg was stiff—probably from the long drive from the Quantico military base near Washington, D.C. And she suspected that if he didn’t have the hardheaded determination of the Corps drilled into him, he’d be limping.

That perfect body had taken a few more hits than she’d been led to believe.

He wasn’t even smiling.

Whether playing a joke, flirting with a woman, or striking out a batter, Travis McCormick almost always smiled.

Splaying her fingers against the glass at her window, cool from the air-conditioning, Tess reached out to her friend. Ashton’s hometown hero had come home, all right. But he hadn’t made it in one piece.

“Trav,” she whispered, her warm breath close enough to fog the glass.

Travis paused on the front sidewalk, almost as if he’d heard her soft plea.

By the time he turned and looked up, Tess had swiped the pane clear and ducked away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. Somehow, it seemed wrong to be spying on her childhood friend and longtime hero when he wasn’t feeling up to snuff. He’d always been so strong. So sure of himself. So perfect.

Tess retreated another step, pulling Amy with her toward the center of the room. “Did you come up here for a reason?”

She had to change to subject, focus her mind on something else, before she ran downstairs and across the yard to see Travis face to face. To hug him, touch him, ensure with her own two hands that his body hadn’t been damaged beyond repair—and that the scars and weakened leg didn’t mean that his fighting spirit and wicked charm had been wounded as well.

“Mom wanted your opinion on the cake she’s baking for tonight. She said you’d know Travis’s tastes better than either of us. Does he like chocolate? White?”

“Lemon.” Travis had always had a taste for food with a little attitude. Just like his women. “He’d want a lemon cake.”

At least the old Travis would. Now she was beginning to wonder how much of the old Travis still existed—and wonder how she could help heal this newer, harder, humbler version of the man who had always been her best friend.

“I’ll tell her.” If Amy had any inkling of the turmoil spinning inside Tess’s head, the only sign was the teasing tug on her younger sister’s ponytail. “Come on down when you’re done unpacking. We could use your help before the party. Mom’s fixing enough food to feed the entire town.”

Tess nodded. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

By the time Amy left and Tess dared to return to the window, Travis had gone inside the house with his brother.

She’d been patient for twelve long months, ever since she’d first gotten the news that he’d nearly died in that accident.

He was hurt. He was her responsibility as his therapist. He was her friend.

Screw waiting until tonight.

Tess tucked her T-shirt into her denim shorts and dashed down the stairs.

“Tessa, I need…Where is that girl going?”

“Give her a few minutes, Mom.”

Her mother’s and sister’s voices were cut off by the noise of the screen door slamming behind her. Tess jogged across the lawn separating the two houses, and tucked a few stray waves into her ponytail as she slowed to a walk to climb the steps to the McCormicks’ front porch. She knocked, then fixed a grin on her face as Hal McCormick answered the door.

The older gentleman’s welcoming smile reminded her of her late father, who had died the same year Hal had lost his wife to cancer.