He couldn’t read her voice. “I’d like a chance to…” To what, explain? Justify? Beg? His mind remained blank. “Can I come in?”

She pulled back. “No.”

He’d expected that. The muscles in his chest tightening and the ache in his throat, he hadn’t. “Five minutes, then I’m gone.”

“No.” She inched the door closed but didn’t click it shut.

The Sarah he knew had been bubbly and smiling. This surprised version of his wife seemed hardened. How someone could give an impression like that while only showing an eye and saying a few words, he didn’t know. But he knew he couldn’t leave. Not yet.

“Three minutes.” How would three minutes make a difference when he couldn’t string his thoughts together and—

“Fine.” She swung the door wide.

He lost his thoughts again. It’d been weeks since he’d seen her. Titan missions lasted that long, but today was different, and wasn’t she the most beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on.

Her petite frame that always fit under his arm, her perfect freckles that he could map in the dark. The way her auburn hair fell over her shoulders. How familiar it always smelled, like sunshine and summer.

“Three minutes. Then it’s good-bye.” Nothing in her tone was sunshine or summer.

He nodded, words not coming.

Her brow pinched. “If you’re coming in, then come in, Brock. Otherwise—”

“No, I’m here. Coming.” He stepped through the threshold into a small living room that very much reminded him of his mother-in-law. Doilies and pristine furniture. A few cardboard boxes were flattened and leaning against a wall. The kids had toys strewn on the floor, and he’d kill to have a Barbie to step over in the middle of the night again.

The living room opened into a kitchen, and he followed Sarah to the table. A newspaper had been laid out. Pen marks and circles decorated what looked like the classifieds. Heaviness hung on his chest. She’s slipping further away from me.

He tried to read her notes without being obvious. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she countered, sitting down and snagging her pen.

Sarcastic Sarah. Again, not expected. “I didn’t mean…” God. Could he really not form coherent thoughts around her?

She studied him then tilted her head to the side, slowly twirling the pen. “I’m looking for a job.”

“A job?”

“You know, what people do to make money? Not everyone kills and maims in order to put food on the table.”

He deserved that one. Time was ticking, and he had no response. “I’ve missed you like crazy, angel.”

Angel had just popped out. It was natural, more than saying her name, but maybe not appropriate. Too bad. She had always been his angel. Nothing had changed for him.