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DNA and everything.”
    The ring. That’s what felt odd. Finn looked at it—It wasn’t his ring.
    She was not wearing the ring he’d sold his pickup truck to buy. This ring was bigger, fancier. He suddenly sat up, jerking her hand closer, staring at that ring. “What is this?” he asked. Macy sat up and tried to take his hand, but he held hers tight, staring at that ring, trying to understand it. “Where is your wedding ring?”
    “I…I thought you were dead, and I thought my heart was dead, and I don’t know how I survived it, I really don’t.” She was speaking frantically now. “I hardly remember a thing after those first few days. Time sort of…it slipped away after your funeral. I was in a daze—I just remember trying so hard to think of things, like the way you smile, and the way you’d say my name, and how you cut the arms out of that very nice shirt because it was hot. I tried, Finn, I tried for a really long time to keep you with me, but bit by bit, you began to disappear, and then one day, I couldn’t remember what your feet looked like. And then I couldn’t remember your hands,” she said, grabbing his hand and running her fingers over his knuckles. “And then, I…I woke up one day and realized that life had to go on, that I couldn’t lie around all day trying to remember your hands, could I? I…what I am trying to tell you is that I… shit ,” she said helplessly, and lowered her head, choking on a sob. “I got married again.”
    Finn yanked his hand free of hers.
    Her hands were shaking, and she started twisting that goddam ring, around and around.
    “You remarried?” he asked, his voice sounding strange to him.
    She responded with a sob.
    As the realization slowly sank in, Finn felt something twist painfully very deep within him. This could not be happening. He’d endured three years to come back to her—how in the hell could she not be his ? “When?” he managed.
    “Seven months ago.”
    Seven months ago, when he’d been shivering with cold that had seeped into his marrow, and was fighting the ever-present gnawing hunger, she’d remarried. “ Who ?” he forced himself to ask.
    Macy averted her gaze. “Wyatt Clark,” she muttered.
    Wyatt Clark, Wyatt Clark . Finn knew the name, but he couldn’t remember how.
    “He’s…he’s the land broker,” Macy said.
    It suddenly came back, all in a stomach-churning flood of memories. Wyatt Clark had come around before Finn and Macy had married wanting to know if Finn was interested in selling his ranch. Macy had married that guy? She’d believed Finn was dead and had married that guy?
    Finn reeled away from her, almost falling off the bed in his haste to get away. Three years roiled through him in one long, nauseating wave, making his knees dangerously weak.
    Macy married . But not to him.
    Strangely, of all the things he’d feared he’d find when he came home, that had never been one of them.
    “Finn, listen—”
    “I have to get out of here,” he said thickly, shoving his shirttails into his pants.
    “Finn, I love you—”
    “ Don’t , Macy,” he said sharply. “ Don’t .” He looked at the door and thought, Survive, evade, resist, escape .
    He grabbed his coat and walked to the door, throwing open the bolt. Behind him, he heard Macy phoning Brodie.

5
     
    Two days ago, Macy had flown off to Washington, D.C., and Wyatt Clark had come home and found TV crews sitting outside of Arbolago Hills, the gated community where he lived. They were there the next morning, too. So he’d decamped to his folks’ place and hid there while they were off trailering.
    The media attention infuriated him—he didn’t like his life being exposed. He didn’t like reporters showing up outside his office or house, shouting at him, asking him how he felt now that his wife’s first husband had shown up alive. How did those vultures think he felt?
    This morning, Wyatt was on his way to his house to pick up a few things when he spotted a