Chapter 1 Angela Summers had always believed that marrying Gideon Holt had used up every ounce of luck she would ever get. He was young and accomplished, aloof and patrician, already a unit commander-the brightest figure anywhere on base. To her, marrying the man she loved felt like plucking the cold moon right out of the sky with her bare hands, and the thought alone sent little bubbles of happiness through her chest all day long. So she treated him well-so well it bordered on self-abasement. She rose before dawn to make his breakfast, pressed his uniform until it held a crease like a blade, and when training wore him down, she simmered broth after broth to build him back up. She told herself that if she was good enough and loved him hard enough, sooner or later she would warm that winter-locked heart. Everything held until one evening when the sky opened and rain hammered the base. Word had it his unit was hosting a mixer at the rec hall. Worried he would be drenched, she grabbed an umbrella and went to walk him home. The place crackled with energy. She had barely reached the door when the cheers rolled out into the hallway. "Captain Holt! Come up and say a few words!" "Yeah, Captain! Tell us what it's like to marry the one you love. Give us a few pointers!" "Everybody, a round of applause-Captain Holt!" Angela lingered at the threshold, a shy, hopeful smile tugging at her lips as the noise swelled inside. What would he say? They must have nudged him onto the stage. His voice came through the mic-cool, steady, achingly familiar and every syllable hit like an ice pick, freezing her in place. "I don't know what it's like to marry the one you love." The room quieted a beat. He paused, then went on in an even, merciless tone. "Because the woman I married is not someone I love." The smile on Angela's face went stiff. The umbrella slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a flat snap. "So," he continued, as if delivering a training report, "I can only speak to marrying someone you don't love. I go home to a table set just for me and have no appetite. When she fusses over me, all I feel is irritation. When I catch that careful, eager look in her eyes, all I want to do is look away." "Every day feels like a duty I can't avoid. It is dull, airless, even punishing." "So," he concluded, voice tempered in ice, "unless you have no other choice, marry the person you love. Otherwise, the rest of your life will be bitter.' You could have heard a pin drop. After a long minute, someone finally squeaked, "C-Captain... aren't you afraid your wife will hear that and Gideon's reply stayed cool, utterly certalll, won't. She can't leave me." It hit her like a blast. The world tilted. Everything in front of Angela buckled and blew apart. Her face drained white; she was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Footsteps shuffled inside as if someone were heading toward the door; she flinched like she'd been burned, spun on her heel, and stumbled headlong into the deluge. Cold rain pelted her cheeks, mixing with tears so hot she could no longer tell which was which. She ran as if speed alone could outrun the pain drilling through her chest. It had been ten years-an entire decade. She had loved Gideon Holt for ten whole years. From fifteen to twenty-five-from first crush to a wedding ring-the brightest decade of her life held nothing and no one but him. They had grown up in the same base housing. He had been the best-looking boy on officers' row-straight brows, sharp eyes, a high-bridged nose, lips held in a disciplined line, and that keep-your-distance chill about him. When other boys were skidding through mud, he sat beneath the locust tree with a book, white shirt sleeves rolled with crisp precision. She trailed him like a small shadow. One glimpse of his tall, straight back set her heart pounding like a trapped rabbit. He never smiled at her. He rarely even looked her in the eye. His coldness spared no one-except Elaine Ward. Elaine, the arts committee rep, was pretty and sweet-voiced, a proud white swan. Only she could stir the still surface of his gaze. He carried her books, talked her through math problems with patient care, and when rehearsals ran late, he waited at the school gate with an umbrella and a bottle of her favorite soda. Angela watched again and again until her heart felt pricked with a hundred fine needles. But what could she do? That was his choice. She hid in corners to be sad in private, then buried her feelings deeper and chose to bless them from afar. Later, Gideon and Elaine began dating, as naturally as if it had been decided long ago. They were speaking of marriage when he vanished on a mission. The word that came back to the unit was brutal: he was likely gone. Elaine wept herself empty for a month. Then, under steady pressure at home, she married someone suitable. Angela refused to believe he was dead. She waited day after day, year after year, and when everyone else told her to let go, a miracle happened. Gideon came home. He was wounded, but alive. He came back alive, but the woman he loved had married someone else-Elaine Ward was another man's wife. He drifted in that fog a long time. Then Gideon's mother fell gravely ill, her last wish a simple one: see Chapter 1 her son start a family. She had always been fond of quiet, well-mannered Angela. So he listened to his mother and married the girl who had loved him in silence for years. She still remembered their wedding night. She wore a white lace dress, heart thudding like a deer trying to leap from her ribs. She thought it was the beginning of her happiness. But as candlelight flickered, when he moved over her, the name he mumbled into her hair was "Elaine." In that instant, her heart flash-froze, then shattered so violently she almost convulsed. She shoved him away, curled into the corner of the bed, and cried without sound. He only hesitated, turned his back, and said nothing-no explanation, no comfort. By morning, staring at the same hard profile as always, she wiped her own tears, ladled him oatmeal, and gave him an out. She told herself it was all right; there was a long life ahead, more than enough time to make him love her. She soothed herself. And after that, she always did. She found a photo of Elaine tucked into the hidden slot of his wallet; she cried, then soothed herself. When Elaine's husband died unexpectedly, Gideon emptied their savings without a word and wrote the largest check toward the funeral costs; it hurt, but she soothed herself. Countless times, one call from Elaine pulled him away; Angela swallowed the disappointment and digested every slight alone. No wonder he sounded so sure when he said she couldn't leave. For a long time, she believed it too. Ten years is a lifetime. How many tens of years does a person get? All of her best days were tied in a neat bow around one man. Letting go felt like digging out her own heart. And yet there in the icy rain she discovered she was not that pathetic after all. She had loved him for ten years; to let him go took only a single, searing second. All that love, all that effort, all the stories she told herself-one casual, ruthless sentence about a lifetime of bitterness ground them to dust. This time, she could not talk herself down. Chapter 1 Florence Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She's also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.