Chapter 1 One Year Ago Where was he? He was supposed to be here. He was late. An hour late. Indie Reed tapped the screen of her phone for what had to be the twentieth time. It was almost five. So close to when that call from the nurse was coming. Most IVF nurses didn't call at five. They liked the morning. She'd had to fight for the later call. And she had fought. Because it was the only time Colt could be here. Her gaze moved from her phone to the street through her living room window. Still nothing. Why? He knew how important this was. He should be answering her calls. Actually, no, if he was going to be late, he should be calling her. She breathed in a lungful of air, a tremble starting to skitter through her fingers. She felt sick. The kind that didn't just crawl around her belly. She felt it everywhere. In her mouth. Her limbs. Deep in her body. If the nurse gave her bad news and he wasn't here, she wasn't sure what would happen. Would she crumble? Break? Or would her body just go numb? Six years. Six years of trying and failing to have a baby, each one harder than the last. She hadn't known the world of infertility could be so dark. She hadn't known a lot six years ago. And now? Now she was struggling. Hell, struggling didn't even touch the surface of the hole that had begun to form in her chest. The hole that kept getting bigger and bigger. Some days, she wondered how big it could get before she completely hollowed out. This was their last embryo. After six years of trying, four years of that being IVF, she wasn't sure she was strong enough to go through another round. The hormones, the injections, the procedures. And the hope...the hope that built with every round, only to be squashed by those two words: not pregnant. No. This time, it was going to work. She was pregnant. She had to be. She'd intentionally not tested this round, needing to wait for the results of the blood test. She closed her eyes, the thuds of her heartbeat so strong that she felt them throughout her entire body. Where was he? She tried to be understanding of his commitments to the military. He was a Marine. Most of the time, his life wasn't his own. But right now, he was supposed to be here. His plane had arrived into Bozeman two hours ago and the drive to Amber Ridge was only an hour. She hit his name on her cell again and pressed it to her ear. Pick up. Please, pick up. Tell me you're close, Colt. The click of someone answering lit hope in her chest. "Indie. It's Sylvia." The hope crashed and burned at the sound of her mother-in-law's voice. "Sylvia. Why are you answering Colt's phone? Is he with you?" "We're at the hospital. He'd just gotten to Amber Ridge when I started getting chest pains. I called him in a panic because I thought I was having a heart attack. Thank God I wasn't! He's just talking to my doctor in the hall." Air thickened in Indie's lungs, making her next breath so hard her chest squeezed. He was with his mother. Sylvia knew what time Colt was getting in. She'd also known how important this call was. She'd done this on purpose. She'd done similar things before. But that wasn't what hurt the most. It was that Colt had gone to her. Colt always went to her. "He's not going to make it..." The words were barely a whisper from her lips, the heaviness trying to drag her to the floor. "Oh, the call from the clinic. I'm sorry. I completely forgot. He won't be long." It didn't matter how long he took-the nurse was calling any second now. "I need to go." She hung up and, like clockwork, her phone started ringing, the name of the fertility clinic on the screen. For a moment she just stood there, her heart rate speeding up and stumbling over itself. The fear that came with each beat slipped out to other parts of her body. Alone. She had to do this alone. She had to be strong. With shaking fingers, she hit the answer key. "Indie speaking." "Hi, Indie, it's Nurse Raven from Amber Ridge Fertility Center. How are you?" There was something about the nurse's voice...slow, each word deliberate. Suddenly, Indie wanted to run. To hang up and be as far from this call as possible. Because even though a second ago she'd told herself to be strong, she didn't feel strong right now. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, and the next words had the power to tip her over the edge. "I'm okay," Indie said softly. A lie. Possibly the biggest she'd ever told. Nothing about this was okay or fair or made a bit of sense. "Just waiting for you to call." There was a small pause. "I'm sorry. Unfortunately, the results of your blood test came back negative. You're not pregnant." Not pregnant. The words slipped beneath her skin, so familiar, yet still so much power to hurt. There was no baby. Six years of trying. A million needles and tests and heartache, and she was still exactly where she'd started. How many times could she create space in her heart for someone who never arrived? The nurse continued talking, but the woman's words started to blur as a buzzing sounded between her ears. When her body felt too heavy, she dropped to the couch, her head falling between her knees in an attempt to breathe. To try to stop the devastation, the hopelessness, from swallowing her whole. It was never going to happen. She was never going to get pregnant and hold her baby in her arms. She was never going to hear their little laugh or see what color their eyes were. She'd never feel those chubby fingers wrap around her own. A sob broke out of her throat and tears burned her eyes. All those timelines she'd grieved, and this was just another. But it felt more final. At some point, the phone slipped from her fingers and she just cried. Loud, ugly tears as the pain bled out of her. Time passed, but she couldn't move. And when the front door opened, she didn't immediately look up. She knew exactly who it was. "Indie?" Slowly, she forced her gaze up. Colt's face paled. He moved toward her, fast steps that closed the distance between them. But she shook her head. "Stop." He halted, confusion mixing with the concern in his dark eyes. "Indie-" "You weren't here. I needed you, and you weren't here." Agony twisted his features. "I know. My mom called me, hysterical that she was having a heart attack. I meant to call you when I reached the hospital but my phone died. I'd just plugged it in when Mom answered your call." Of course she'd said she was having a heart attack. If she'd used the same "chest pains" excuse as last time, Colt wouldn't have gone to her before the IVF clinic called. But a heart attack? Yeah, that worked. He stepped closer. "I'm here now. And I need to make sure you're okay-" "I'm not." The words cut into the air like a knife. Her voice almost cracked, but she forced it to remain steady. "I haven't been okay for a long time." "I know." Two whispered words from him. "Trying to have a baby has been challenging-" "Challenging? Colt...it's destroying me. I've been stuck in this place of trying to have a baby for six years, and I'm losing hope. I'm losing strength. I'm losing my ability to see any light in this world. And today, I needed you!" "How can I fix this?" Fix it? As if this was a broken chair that needed a nail or some glue. Or a cracked shard of glass in a window. This wasn't fixable. She was broken. They were broken. And in a couple of days, he'd go back to the Marine Corps and she'd still be here, alone, wondering how on earth she was supposed to get through another day. It wasn't his fault that he had to go back to work. "I can't do this anymore." The whispered words tumbled from somewhere deep inside her, and the second they were out, she wanted to tug them back. But she physically couldn't bring herself to do it. Because something did need to change. Otherwise, she wouldn't make it. An expression crossed his face. Confusion...panic. It looked so out of a place on the man who usually carried the world on his shoulders. "What do you mean, you can't do this anymore?" "It's too hard. Every day is too hard." Had been too hard for so long. "Indie-" "I can't breathe, Colt." Her voice broke and she couldn't inhale a full breath. "Some days get so dark I wonder if I'll ever see light again. Between infertility, wondering if you're going to return after your missions, and dealing with your mother, I'm drowning." "My mother?" "My head is underwater," she whispered. "I just...I need something to change. I need a break." "From me?" "From everything. From the world I've created for myself. I need to figure out how not to feel broken." Colt's world tilted. No, it fucking spun off its axis, and he had no idea how to pull it back into place. He stepped forward, craving her touch. "Indie. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me. But you can't end this marriage. I love you. And you love me." A single tear slid down her cheek, and it gutted him. Everything about this moment made him feel like there was no version of him that could get out of this whole. Another step forward, the need to touch her suffocating him. "Please...let me be here for you. Let me make this right." He reached out a hand. "Don't-please." He stopped, the agony in her voice weaving inside him. He was so used to having answers. Being decisive. In his line of work, you had to be if you wanted to survive. But this? He had no fucking clue what to do. This pain in Indie's eyes wasn't new. He'd known she was hurting. Known she'd been struggling for a while. Infertility was hard. But when had it gotten this bad? When had she become this despondent, this deep in her grief? He'd missed it. Yes, he worked a job that demanded a lot of him. Yes, he was away a lot, but Indie was his wife. He should have seen how bad things had gotten. "Don't ask me to leave," he whispered. "Fight for us. Fight for me." Another tear slid down her cheek. "I've been fighting, Colt. I've been fighting for so long, and now I'm just tired." Her breathing hitched. "I need it to end." It? Meaning the pain? Or them? It didn't matter. Either way, she wanted him to leave. To step out of their house and accept this break. But he couldn't. His feet wouldn't fucking move. "I can't lose you," he pushed, the shake in his voice something he'd never heard before. "You already have. Because I'm not the Indie you married. I think I lost a little bit more of myself after each round of trying. I don't know how many more pieces I can lose before I just disappear." "Then we'll stop trying. We'll take a break from that, not us." Her breathing grew faster. So fast, she pressed a hand to her chest. "No. I need you to leave. I need..." Her chest heaved. "Let me be here for you." She shook her head. "I need space to breathe." When he didn't move, her voice grew louder, desperation coating each word. "Please, Colt, let me breathe without you here. Let me figure out how to save myself." The urge to tug her into his arms consumed him, pulling at his limbs. But he fought it. Fuck, he fought it. Because every time he got closer, the ache in her eyes deepened. The tears became thicker and the panic more intense. He couldn't fix this. Not right now. And he loved her. Shit, he loved her so much he would tear his own damn heart out of his chest if it meant saving hers. So he stepped back, the move feeling unnatural. "Okay, Cricket. I'll go. But this isn't over. I'll be back. We will survive this." It took every ounce of his strength to turn. To walk out of the house they'd bought together and pull the door closed behind him, feeling like he was leaving his wife in the middle of a hurricane. He didn't leave the porch right away though. He couldn't. Instead, he waited. Then he heard it. Indie's crying. The sound was loud, and it destroyed something inside him. Made him feel like a fraction of the man he thought he was. He pressed his forehead to the door, wanting to go back in. To break down the door that separated them, and hold her. Keep all the fractured pieces of her together. He didn't. He forced himself to go to his car. But again, he didn't leave. He lifted his phone and texted Clara, Indie's cousin and best friend. Ten minutes later, Clara pulled up in front of the house and ran up the walk. He waited until she'd stepped inside before finally turning on his engine. That's when he made the decision. He had one more year until his contract was up-then he was coming home, and he was fixing his marriage.