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The EOD crest. His old unit.
    What the fuck?

Chapter Five
    Harry stood up, stretched, and stifled a giggle when Matt groaned as he slid out of her. He hadn’t disappointed. Here’s to fantasies coming true. She grinned at him in the mirror, but his eyes weren’t on her face—they were on her back.
    He swept her hair across her shoulders. Ah, he must have seen her tattoo. “It was my husband’s unit. EOD,” she said, hoping that would be enough information. But no.
    “I know what it is, and most of them are divorced. EOD doesn’t only stand for Explosive Ordinance Disposal. It also stands for…”
    “Every one divorced.” She turned to him. “I know. And I’m not divorced.”
    He stared at her, a rush of different emotions passing over his face. “I’m sorry.” He backed away and grabbed his pants. “I know a lot of good guys who aren’t here anymore.”
    “I knew just one.” Damn. How had this conversation become so out of control in the space of about thirty seconds? She wished she could dial it back in. Clearly this wasn’t a great conversation for him, either; he hadn’t looked at her since he said he was sorry. “It’s okay. It’s been seven years since he died. I’m fine. Please don’t feel sorry for me.”
    “Seven years? Maybe I knew him. What branch of service?” He was practically dressed now, as if he was layering on armor. She would laugh if he didn’t seem so… distressed?
    “Air force. Danny McCantry.”
    His jaw dropped and his head was shaking before he said anything. “Danny’s wife was called Marko.”
    How would he even remember that? Shit and hellfire. This was a whole other kettle of fish. His teeth were actually grinding. She grabbed her shorts and tank and sat next to him on the bed. “My maiden name is Markowitz; Danny and I met when we were twelve. He always called me Marko.”
    “Danny was my best friend. I just fucked my best friend’s wife.” He ground the words out, and her heart dropped along with her stomach. Nausea rose, and she took some deep breaths to steady herself. Memories of Danny talking about his unit buddies flooded back. Stories, photos. She’d never met many of them until the funeral. And she barely even remembered the funeral, just the faces of the people that visited afterward.
    She touched his arm, but he jumped away as if her hand was white-hot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, running his hands through his hair. His voice was low, but it had the intensity of a shout. He grabbed for his clothes and was dressed before she could formulate an adequate response to this nightmare.
    “I’m sorry you’re upset. This was… unfortunate. But Danny died years ago. I’ve moved on.” Wow, she’d said it so often she nearly believed it herself. Yes, she’d moved on sexually, professionally, and physically, but not emotionally. Never.
    “I haven’t.” He said the two words as two distinct sentences. “How could you just sleep with me like that? Doesn’t Danny’s memory mean anything to you?”
    Fury flashed through her. Heat throbbed through her head. “How dare you.
How dare you.
Get. Out.”
    He slammed the door behind him.
    Harry curled up on the bed. Hot tears already ran down her face. How dare he judge her? How dare he say the words that only she could say to herself? Damn him. She sniffed and pushed her chin up in defiance, swiping the drips that fell from her face. She wasn’t crying for Danny. It was the humiliation. As if someone was calling her out on the doubts she’d always had about the proverbial “moving on” widows were supposed to do.
    Damn him to hell. This wasn’t her. Why the hell was he getting to her like this? She lived life to the full, every second she could. She knew she would eventually end up with Danny somewhere, so how she lived her life here was completely up to her. She loved life, and she was damn well going to live it the best way she knew how. Adventures, being beholden to no one, and lovely,