. . Can he deal with it? Will he finally be able to let go and say good-bye? She wanted that so much. Her heart ached for the grief her husband dealt with. Time heals all wounds—except Ryan’s apparently, she thought. She felt selfish in the face of her husband’s turmoil, but wanted, no needed back the man she’d married. After the first year passed, he’d held it together. Seemed to be getting through the loss and beginning to come out the other side whole. Then a few months ago, something changed and the Ryan she knew, the Ryan she loved, began slipping away from her all over again. Grabbing a fresh washcloth from the linen closet, she ran it under the cold water and held it to her eyes, hoping to bring down some of the puffiness and signs she’d been crying. She didn’t want Ryan knowing she was upset. "Honey, everything okay in there?" "Fine. I’ll be right out." Tossing the cloth into the hamper, Rose straightened, checked her reflection one final time before opening the door to the bedroom. She pulled the clip from her hair as she entered, the waves cascading over her shoulders and spilling halfway down her back. Ryan lay sprawled in their king-size bed, his muscled shoulders resting against the pillows piled high against the padded chocolate brown and cream-colored headboard. His whiskey-brown eyes gleamed in the dim light from the bedside lamp on the night stand, its soft glow illuminating the room. He gave a soft whistle as she stopped at the foot of the bed.
