Beside me, Deb straightened. “There he is.”

  It was something like Schrödinger’s reunion. The man walking toward us was Joshua—and yet he wasn’t. He’d changed a great deal. For one, he was tanned. Really, really tanned, which made his light green eyes stand out almost unnaturally. He was Joshua’s height but didn’t carry himself at all like Joshua. The strides were easy and confident, not military at all, more like those of somebody who’d hiked a million miles and still had a million to go. His dark brown hair was buzzed short enough to look almost black. A pair of rimless polarized sunglasses were pushed back halfway over his head, and he had a large rucksack hoisted over one shoulder, carried like it didn’t weigh a thing. Ever since Deb had said “French Foreign Legion” I’d expected to see him in some kind of uniform or camos at least, but he was wearing comfortable-looking scuffed jeans and hiking boots. T-shirt and a windbreaker. Eminently practical, and a far, far cry from the suit-and-tie ensemble that I remembered him in.

  Or not wearing anything at all, eh, Chris?

  He looked around once, but then his gaze landed on us. And then right on me.

  My heart jumped.

  He hesitated.

  Then he came closer.

  And closer.

  I should have waited in the van. I shouldn’t have come at all. But I couldn’t help staring at him. The old Joshua had had a softness—freshness, youth, maybe. I’d practically grown up with him, and I’d thought his younger self would always stay with me, every detail of his brow and the shape of his nose and lips. But nothing of that remained.

  The suntanned stranger in front of us had none of that—as if every hint of softness had been scraped off his bones and from under his skin. He looked tough, worn and too lean. And the eyes… In this kind of face, they looked all different. They’d always had exactly the color of green glass you could find at the beach, pale and softened by years in salt water. This gaze was all different. Like he was looking at us and then way beyond.

  He stopped in front of us and put the rucksack down, then straightened and subtly opened his arms. Lean lips twitched, and then they smiled. A smile much more in keeping with the Joshua I knew. Boyish, tentative.

  He silently embraced his sister and then turned to me. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  There. That was the different-but-still-the-same voice Deb had mentioned. Still the same voice, if maybe rougher around the edges, and with a distinct accent that he hadn’t had before.

  I cleared my throat. “I…didn’t think you would either.”

  He laughed, and for the first time, I really saw Joshua in him. His mother had always said his laughter could light up a room, and that was one thing that time, the sun and God knew what else hadn’t taken from him. He met my eyes and stepped closer. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you came.”

  And then he hugged me. He was so much more toned, so much leaner than he’d been six years ago, but yes, this was definitely him. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, gritting my teeth against the flood of emotions. I didn’t want to let him go, but I also wanted to shove him away and put a fist in his face to make up for all the hell he’d put me through by “dying” five years ago, one year into his two-year mission.

  In that strange French accent, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Chris.”

  That almost did it. My throat ached with the threat of tears even as my chest tightened with latent rage. All I could think to say was, “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  He let me go, and when our eyes met, his were dry. Mine, however, were not, and I quickly swiped at them.

  Deb gestured at the baggage carousel, which was nearly empty now except for a few orphaned suitcases. “We should get your things.”

  He picked up the rucksack at his feet. “This is all I have.”

  Her shoulders sank a little. “Oh. You’re, um, not planning to stay long?”

  “What?” He pulled the strap onto his shoulder. “No, no. I mean this is all I have.”

  “That’s—” She craned her neck to look at the rucksack. “Everything you own is in there?”

  “Well, not everything.” His mischievous grin made me shiver. “I left my weapons with a friend. Didn’t want to argue with the airline about it.” Rolling his eyes, he clicked his tongue. “Fucking TSA.”

  Deb and I both jumped. Joshua never swore. Ever.

  “Well. Um.” Deb cleared her throat. “No reason to stay here, then. Come on. Car’s this way.”

  I held out my hand. “Do you want me to carry anything?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head as we followed his sister. “I’ve been carrying this thing forever. A little longer won’t kill me.”

  I eyed the bag, wondering just what the hell was in it.

  Deb glanced at him as she pulled her keys from her purse. “Are you hungry, Joshua? We—”

  “Julien. Julien Sargent now.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Julien?”

  He grinned. “Changed my name. You like it?”

  “I…” Had no idea anymore. Just…no idea. “Why?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s what the recruiter called me. He misheard my name. I liked it.”

  The… Right.

  At the van, he lifted the rucksack into the back and then climbed into the passenger seat. I wasn’t going to protest. If he wanted to sit right next his sister, I wouldn’t get in the way. It gave me a good look of his tanned, powerful neck, though.

  “Are you hungry?” Deb asked.

  “I could go with a coffee and a bite. Should probably get used to the time zone ASAP.” He pulled a note from his pocket and unfolded it. “I’m staying at this hostel for the moment.”

  Deb took the note and checked the address on her GPS. “Let’s see what’s in the area.”

  Traffic wasn’t so bad now. We flew up the freeway from Sea-Tac toward downtown Seattle. The drive was mostly silent. Deb watched the road. Julien watched the scenery. I watched Julien.

  From time to time, they exchanged a few words, but it wasn’t the easy banter they’d shared as kids. She was the eldest child, he was the eldest boy, and they’d been extremely close, especially as their younger siblings came along. If they’d been twins, I had no doubt they’d have been one of those pairs with their own secret language. For all I knew, they did anyway.

  But now, the smiles were tense and the comments brief and superficial. Even she seemed like she’d been replaced by a stranger. Whenever he stumbled over an English word that any native speaker should have known—it was so weird, hearing him struggle with his own language—she quietly filled in the correct word but didn’t tease him or even giggle like I would have expected.

  I just sat in the back and didn’t say anything. Deb had had a year to adjust to the fact that her brother was alive. I’d had a few hours. I needed…more.

  Forty-five minutes or so after we’d left the airport, we turned down Broadway, the main street running through Seattle’s gay community, Capitol Hill. Really? He was staying up here? Maybe the cheapest or safest hostels were on Capitol Hill. Or maybe he really was blatantly staying in the gay part of town.

  Deb didn’t seem entirely comfortable—she eyed our surroundings as we passed clubs and racy specialty shops. A few years ago, I would’ve been the same way. Now, I lived up here. In fact, not long after we pulled onto Broadway, we passed Wilde’s, the bar where I was supposed to be working right now. Good crowd tonight. Parking lot was full, three cabs on the curb.

  Then, a few blocks up from Wilde’s, the GPS told Deb to go left. She followed a few more turns and finally stopped in front of the hostel. It didn’t look like anything special from the outside, but then he just grabbed the bag and jumped out, jogging easily to the building and then inside. Deb and I looked at each other, exchanging a smile somewhere between fondness and exasperation.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I’m…not there yet. No idea. But you’re right.”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “He’s not a scammer. It’s him, all right.”

  Just all grown up and like he’s stepped out of an outdoors calendar.

  “I’m just glad he showed up.” But she still looked puzzled and like she too was still finding her feet with him. It was awkward. And I’d have sworn we were thinking the same thing. That we couldn’t see him right now, and that meant he could just have vanished again. He’d done it once already—the hostel might have a back exit, and he’d be gone and we’d never…

  And there he was, loping casually toward us.

  Part of me tightened. Some other part relaxed.

  He pulled open the door and climbed in again. “Ready.”

  Deb found a parking place, and from there we went to a nice little café, like absolutely nothing had happened, like we were just out for a chat and general catch-up. Like Joshua wasn’t Julien or whatever. All this was just too bizarre for words.

  So we sat there with our paninis and coffee, and nobody really knew what to say. We should’ve been making conversation—five years of nothing. No doubt Deb had a cute story to tell of her kids. But we all just sat there, pretending our paninis had to be carefully watched or they might evaporate.

  Deb had a decaf, while Joshua’d ordered an “extra shot”, which was one of those things he wouldn’t have done before. But the old Joshua hadn’t flown halfway around the world either. And he didn’t strike me as particularly Mormon anymore anyway. Me, I went with a latte, no extra shots. My heart was thumping already, and I was more in the mood for something much stronger to calm my nerves. So there we sat, paper cups in one hand, nibbling paninis.

  Joshua—Julien—shifted a little, picking at the edge of his panini. “So, um. Chris.” His eyes flicked up and met mine, his expression guarded and his posture cautious. “What are you doing these days?”

  “Something tells me your answer to that question will be much more interesting than mine.”

  He flinched and lowered his gaze again.

  I sighed. “Sorry. I…” I cleared my throat. “I’m bartending. In between going to school.”

  “Bartending?” His eyebrows rose. “Never thought that kind of work would suit you.”

  About seven hundred variations of “And I never thought you…” stopped at the tip of my tongue. “It pays the bills. Hours are flexible.” I shrugged. “I can’t complain.”

  “Where are you working?” he asked.

  I didn’t imagine he was that interested in where I worked, but it was conversation, so I ran with it. “I work at Wilde’s. On Broadway.” I gestured down the road. “Few blocks that way, actually.”

  He nodded. “And you’re going to school? At the U?”

  “Community college, for the moment.” I stared down at my panini and used my thumbnail to dislodge a piece of melted cheese from the crust. “I’ll transfer next fall, though.” Yes, Joshua, my college and career plans got derailed. Yes, I’m just now going to a damned community college instead of being finished with a master’s. Yes, I’m tending a fucking bar in a club full of half-naked men, and you’re damned right I’ve fucked a few of them. The piece of cheese came off, and my thumb smacked into the plate harder than I’d expected, startling all three of us.

  Deb glanced at me, eyebrows up, but then went back to picking at her own sandwich. Julien tensed slightly but otherwise didn’t move.

  He picked up his coffee and took a drink. “So what’s your major?”

  Discussing my less-than-stellar academic life with Mr. Perfect Mormon was more humiliating than I’d anticipated. I squirmed in my seat. “General studies. I’ll figure out a major when I transfer.” Before he could press, I changed the subject. “Where the hell have you been for five years?”

  This time, he really jumped. So did I. Deb looked like she was about to crouch under the table and wait for it to be over.

  I chewed my lip. The words had come out sharper than I’d intended, with all the venom I’d been holding in. Part of me wanted to take them back. Part of me said I was entitled to a goddamned answer after grieving for my best friend—and more?—for all this time.

  Julien sat up straighter and looked me in the eyes. “I’m guessing you’re not interested in me pulling out a map and literally showing you where—”

  “No. Not really.”

  Our eyes locked. His expression was completely blank.

  Then he lowered his gaze and absently swirled his coffee as if it were a glass of wine. “It’s a long story, Chris.”

  “I have tonight off.” I folded my hands in my lap. “Take your time.”

  He glared at me.

  Deb leaned forward again, resting her arms on the table and forming a subtle barrier between her brother and me. “He’s going to be here for a while.” She glanced at him, eyebrows up as if searching for confirmation. When he nodded, she turned to me. “Maybe he should have some time to rest, and you should have some time to…adjust. Then you guys can talk things over.”

  I couldn’t argue with her. He was jetlagged. I was shell-shocked. Maybe this could wait another day or two, as long as he didn’t slip away again.

  “Okay. I can live with that.”

  Julien just nodded.

  His sister relaxed and finally took a bite of her panini. I hadn’t eaten since before she’d dropped the bomb on me earlier and still didn’t feel like it. Maybe later. When I was alone. After I’d bitched at Jim Beam and his good pal Johnnie Walker.

  Julien took a bite too. After he’d washed it down with some coffee, he said, “If I am going to be here for a while, I might look for a job. I’m fairly well set for money, but I could use something to do.”

  Now there was a glimpse of Joshua. We’d joked that he’d been a workaholic since kindergarten, and apparently even the French Foreign Legion hadn’t knocked that out of him.

  I looked his toned physique up and down and playfully said, “Well, if you’re interested in being a bouncer, I think Wilde’s is hiring.”

  His lips quirked, and I realized a second too late he was actually considering it. “Good to know. Maybe I’ll look into that.”

  Awesome. Just fucking awesome.

  Not only would it be damn near impossible to avoid looking at him, but every guy with a pulse would be drooling all over him. Damn, wasn’t like he couldn’t defend himself. Still… Having him around me at work seemed like way too much way too quickly.

  I took a bite, more or less just to do something. “You could always give me your phone number. I can give it to the boss.”

  Julien looked up and straight in my eyes. Same eyes. Totally different man. Same damn reaction—my throat tightened, my balls tightened too, and apprehension and nervousness were a terrible mix when you were trying to think clearly.

  “Don’t have a phone.” Julien grinned. “Might get one, though.”

  Deb and I exchanged that same look. That means we can’t reach him if he decides to vanish again.

  “Joshua, are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?” she asked. “We do have a guest room. The house is pretty busy, though. The kids and all.”

  “I’m all right.” He reached over and touched her hand, squeezed it gently. “Thank you.”

  “I have a couch,” I told my panini. When nobody answered, I looked at Julien, who was fixing me with an intent stare. It honestly wasn’t for any more ulterior motives than knowing where the hell he was. Tracking him, maybe. Maybe that was how all societies kept track of their members. Rent and damned cell phones. “But if you want it. No use staying with strangers if you have family and friends close by.”

  “I…” Julien paused, then looked from Deb to me and back. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  Old Joshua again. So very considerate.

  “You’re not. It’s not much, but at least…” I shrugged.

  “All right. Though I’m going to crash soon tonight.”

  “That’s fine.” I took a last bite and put the panini down. That was as much as I’d manage to keep down. “I have the night off, so I’ll set you up and leave you in peace.”

  “If you need anything…”

  “I’m good, Deb. Thank you.”

  Chapter Three

  “Well, this is the place.” I waved a hand at the interior of my apartment.

  Joshua—Julien—set his rucksack down beside the door. “It’s nice. No…” His eyes lost focus, and he made a frustrated gesture. “Uh, no… Fuck, what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers. “Roommate. You don’t have a roommate?”

  “No roommate.” I smirked. “Relearning English, are we?”

  He laughed, and his cheeks colored. “You’d be amazed how quickly another language takes over.”

  “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you who were practically fluent in Spanish while the rest of us were still trying to remember how to say ‘water’.”

  Julien chuckled. “Still, it’s different when it’s all you’re speaking. It was hard at first, but before I knew it, I was even thinking in French.”

  “Wow.”

  Our eyes locked.

  God, so many questions.

  Before I even realized I was speaking, I whispered, “Why, Joshua?”

  He lowered his gaze and ran a hand through his short hair. “Would any explanation I gave you change anything?”

  “It might make things a little easier to stomach.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I lost my best friend.”

  “I’m back now.”

  “For how long?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Sighing, I pressed my shoulder against the wall, just looking for some support since my knees weren’t all that reliable when he was around. “I lost my best friend. I… God, I lost my mind after I found out.”

  He flinched. “I’m so sorry, Chris. That’s… I don’t know what else I can say.”

  “Just tell me why.”

  Without looking at me, he said, “It wasn’t you.”

  I blinked a few times, wondering how the hell to take that. “It wasn’t me? Except it was me—and everyone else—you left behind.”