Chapter 2

Dylan stared at me in disbelief. "Both of us?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "You're the guy she loves. If we leave you behind, she's not going to budge. Pack your bags. You're moving into the Ashby residence with her."

I kept my voice completely deadpan, stripped of any emotion. "Her folks already know about you. They aren't going to stand in your way."

It was like Dylan had just won the lottery. He grabbed Eleanor's hand, beaming at her with a massive grin, and immediately turned to pack their things.

Only then did Eleanor seem convinced that I meant Dylan no harm. Her lips thinned slightly, her demeanor softening. "Sorry about earlier. I thought you were here to start trouble with him."

Her entire universe revolved around Dylan now.

It made me think back to the volunteer relief drives, back when Dylan would watch her from the sidelines.

Eleanor would give me a helpless look, yank on the sleeve of my coat, and push me out in front of her. She'd put on this hilariously stern face and tell me to start acting like her fiance to scare off the competition.

Later, we'd collapse into each other's embrace in the corner of the medical station, laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

Alas, Eleanor wasn't mine anymore.

I tugged at the corners of my lips and drove the two of them back to the Ashby residence.

When it came time to introduce me, the living room fell dead silent. A roomful of her relatives was completely paralyzed by how to break the news to her.

So, I stepped up and did it for them.

"I'm the medic from your unit. We served on the border together, and you've always treated me like an elder brother. You used to badger me about my love life, but I guess the amnesia wiped that out."

Eleanor didn't suspect a thing. She let out a bright, easy laugh as she retorted, "Got it. Well, once Dylan is all settled in, I'm making it my personal mission to find you a wife."

In the middle of the night, a harsh orange glow woke me up.

I pushed open my bedroom door and went outside, only to realize that every single memory of our life together was fueling a massive bonfire.

The tactical flashlight I'd bought her, our deployment medals, even the matching engagement rings she'd custom-made out of shell casings—everything was crackling and popping, turning to ash.

A sharp pain seized my chest.

Just then, Eleanor turned around and met my gaze.

"Look, we used to be partners, so I never really thought twice about keeping these things around. But Dylan's living here now. I don't want him getting the wrong idea if he finds these things, so I'm burning them. No hard feelings, right?"

I dug my fingernails into my palms, desperate to keep her from seeing how badly she'd hurt me.

"None at all," I said quietly. "Actually, hold on. Let's burn the stuff from my room, too."

I went back inside, grabbed every last relic of our past, and chucked them right into the flames.

The heat rolled off the fire in waves, but I felt like I was standing naked in a blizzard.

Over the next few days, the yard sounded like a construction zone.

The entire yard used to be packed with herbs Eleanor had planted by hand to help with my chronic pain. Now, she was tearing them all out by the roots to build a vegetable garden for Dylan.

The wisteria trellis we'd built for our backyard wedding reception was ripped down, replaced by a row of basic clotheslines for Dylan's laundry.

They even sledgehammered the brick wall where we'd carved our initials, hauled the debris away, and put down a flowerbed because Dylan wanted one.

And on the day they were putting the seeds in the ground, Dylan cornered me at the yard.