“Yes, you should have.” She hesitated beside him before sitting with a sigh. “You’re really back. It’s actually you.”
“More or less.” He shifted on the hammock, both feet on the ground as he faced her chair, forcing himself not to think about how delicately beautiful she was with her strawberry blond hair, sky-blue eyes, pale skin with freckles all over her body that he’d explored with his mouth. “Are you okay after last night?”
He had to know, wanted to ask a helluva lot more.
“Rattled, but all right. Thank you for your help.”
“I was doing my job.”
“You did it well.”
“I wish we could have caught him.” He wished he could have been boots on the ground, tracking the son-of-bitch who’d dared threaten her. “Anastasia…”
“Don’t call me that. My name is Stacy,” she corrected softly but with a hint of anger. “Why haven’t you come to see me since you returned?”
Now, wasn’t that the million-dollar question? If he’d wanted to stay away from her altogether, he never should have come back to town. This had been inevitable, yet for a month he’d delayed taking that final step. Would she have been safer last night if he hadn’t been such a damn coward these past four weeks?
He settled for the obvious answer rather than the deeper, more complex truth. “You got married. We’re not together anymore.”
Yeah, he’d been bitter for a long time over how she’d found another man to love rather than leave their small country town with him. How could she have given up on the connection they had? They’d been teenagers in the same group home, become friends, then later they’d become way more than friends. He’d lost everything when sheʼd turned away from him. But even in that bitterness, he’d wanted her to be happy. The thought of her at the mercy of someone who would harm even a single hair on her strawberry blond head…
His hand fell to his dog, and he took comfort in Radar’s soft, short fur, a Dutch shepherd, smart as hell and his lifeline. Funny how not too long ago he’d been freaked out by anything bristly or fuzzy, and now he clung to his dog for comfort in a world turned upside down by war.
“Gavin, I still don’t understand why you didn’t let me know you’re back. I’m divorced. Even if I wasn’t or you didn’t know, I would want to hear how you’re doing.” Her chair squeaked as she leaned closer, wind whipping a strand of her wispy, long hair over his wrist. So close, he could have reached out to hold her. “We were friends long before we were lovers. How could you come back and not contact me? Let me know how you’re doing? Are you okay?”
Of course she would notice the scar along his forehead, the jagged line and melted patch even a skin graft couldn’t erase. He wore his hair long these days now that he was out of the Air Force. Not that it really mattered to him what he looked like. “I’m healthy.”
“But no longer in the military?”
“Clearly, I have a new job now. I’ve been medically discharged.”
“And you didn’t think I would want to know? Do you hate me so much you can’t even share a burger and a beer to catch up?”
He smelled strawberries. Definitely more than a memory, the sweet scent teased him, tempted him. “I don’t hate you at all.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
He pulled off his sunglasses and waited. How long would it take her to put together the pieces? To really see and understand that he didn’t wear sunglasses to protect his eyes from the sunlight that warmed the scars along his forehead. To realize his dog wasn’t just a pet, but also a working companion. To discern he wasn’t looking her in the eyes.
Because he couldn’t.
He was blind.
CHAPTER 2
Blind.
The realization stunned Stacy quiet, holding her stone still as she processed a painful truth in front of her. She looked into Gavin’s dark brown eyes, his unfocused gaze settled somewhere to the left of her. His fists rested on his knees as he sat on the edge of the hammock in his backyard. She’d been too distracted by the rest of him to notice things maybe she should have picked up on, her own eyes drawn to mouth-watering muscles and his impressive physical presence. He’d always been a big, bold man, like a wrestler. That strength had turned hotter with age. He’d been good-looking at nineteen.
He was mesmerizing and sexy as sin at twenty-nine.
She pulled her eyes off the hard angles of his face, away from temptation. His dog lay on the grass, body pressed against Gavin’s thick, muscled leg. She hadn’t paid much attention to the dog before other than noting a large, mellow, brindle-colored mutt of some kind. Now, she realized this was a working canine. A guide dog.
The scars on Gavin’s forehead—his service to his country had cost him dearly.
She could still remember the day he’d decided to join the Air Force. She’d been so proud of him and crushed at the same time. They’d spent their teenage years in a group home. He’d landed there as an orphan without any relatives after bouncing through the foster system. Her mother had died of an overdose, and none of her relatives wanted Stacy. Gavin had looked so lost his first day at the home. She knew the others would prey on that. So she’d stepped up to show him the ropes and offer her friendship. She may have been scrawny, but she was fearless back then. She thought she’d already conquered the worst the world had to dish up.
Their unlikely friendship had stuck, shifting to something more on her sweet-sixteen birthday when he’d impulsively kissed her. That one kiss had changed everything for them.
As teens stargazing on the roof of the group home, she and Gavin had dreamed of making a home together. He was going to train to be an EMT. She would become a nurse. They would have a house with a yard…and children.
Then, after he’d seen a television special on Air Force pararescuemen, she’d lost him. He’d chosen a rootless existence. She’d tried to find a compromise, begging him to join the National Guard or enlist in the reserves instead. But in the end, they’d both issued ultimatums with all the fierce stubbornness of two nineteen-year-olds certain they would get their way.
They were both wrong.
She’d followed his career through town gossip at first. He’d become a pararescueman—some called it a parajumper, a PJ. They were like SEALs: supermen with EMT bonus powers and a mission to rescue.
But also so very human. She clenched her fists to keep from stroking back his dark hair and pressing her mouth to his scarred forehead. “What happened to you over there?”
“I lived.” He slid his sunglasses back over his sightless eyes.
Her heart squeezed hard. “You were obviously injured. I wish you had let me know after it happened. I would have—”
“You would have done what? Rushed to my bedside?” He laughed darkly and swung his legs back up, reclining on the hammock. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”
Their differences had seemed so huge when they were young, before she’d known how big trouble could be. “I just wish you’d let me know you were home.”
“I didn’t make a secret of it.”
The stress and tension from last night, hell, from the past six months, came rolling over her. A pain deeper than any knife. “You made it damn hard to find out anything about you once you left town.” Yes, she’d kept track of him those first few years, but after he’d finished PJ training, it was as if he’d fallen off the face of the Earth. “In case you’ve forgotten, officials don’t give up information on military personnel to nonfamily members, especially when that military person works in a Special Operations job.”
At eighteen, they’d exchanged vows by a waterfall in a Kentucky valley. But there’d been no witnesses. No minister. Just the two of them pledging their hearts before losing their virginity. They’d never gotten around to legalizing those vows in the year that followed before they parted ways.
“Worked,�
� he said. “Past tense. I worked in Special Operations.”
The maple tree branches rustled in the late afternoon breeze. The wooden fence protected them from prying eyes. She’d been careful driving over, checking to be sure no one had followed her. And other than quite a few cops on the road today, she’d seen nothing suspicious. Jared usually laid low for weeks after reaching out so directly to terrify her. She had time to plan her escape, time to talk to Gavin before they said good-bye again.
Except she’d never counted on him being so injured. Blind. “Which brings me back to my question, Gavin. What happened to you?”
A half smile pushed a dimple into one side of his rugged face. “A really bad wreck.”
“You weren’t hurt overseas? I assumed…”
His smile faded. “The wreck happened in Afghanistan a year ago. The helicopter I was in got shot down. I was injured. I lived. I’m blind. I can distinguish light from dark, and sometimes I catch hints of shadows, but that’s it. Irreversible damage. End of story.”
She reached out to him, almost touching, needing to feel the warmth of him, reassure herself he was alive. Her hand stopped just shy of his shoulder. “Gavin—”
“The pity in your voice is so thick it makes me sick,” he snapped. “Stop it.”
She pulled her hand away. “It’s not pity. It’s sympathy. Sadness. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t feel those things for all you’ve been through? But I can understand that you would be bitter.”
His head turned toward her, those sunglasses almost making it seem like he held eye contact. “I guess you do. But what about you? How are you after last night? What happened was…”
She considered pushing him on his obvious attempt to change the subject, but the brace of his proud shoulders made her reconsider. “Intense? Terrifying? All of the above?” A sigh shuddered through her. “Now I have a window here where he’ll hide out before making a move again.”
“Damn it, he needs to be locked up.”
“I’ve never been able to prove he’s responsible. I’m surprised two police cars came last night. Half the town thinks I’m paranoid because of what happened six months ago.”
“What happened?”
“My house was broken into.” She’d been stabbed. Jared had whispered in her ear before slipping out of the house. She’d lost so much blood that her account of what happened had been called into question, considered a possible hallucination. “The police couldn’t find any evidence to confirm Jared was responsible. The more I called, the more convinced they became that I have a vendetta against him, trying to get his money because he’s wealthy.”
“Or he’s buying someone off because he’s rich.”
Her head jerked up. How did he know that about her life? Had he kept track of her after all?
More importantly, his comment told her he believed her about Jared. She’d half expected him to doubt her too, and instead he’d come up with a possible solution to why her cries for help were being ignored. “That could be. At any rate, I’ve decided to relocate. Hide and start over before he has a chance to come back.”
“Men like him don’t give up.” He swung his feet to the ground again, sitting on the edge of the hammock. He reached for her arm, only missing by a hint, and God help her, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning toward his hand to make contact.
“Gavin, I don’t have any other choice.”
“Yes, you do.” He squeezed her arm. “Let’s flush out the bastard and put him in jail.”
• • •
Just the feel of Stacy’s arm threatened to shatter Gavin’s self-control.
Since losing his sight, the rest of his senses had gone into hyperdrive. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to soak up everything he could about Stacy to make up for the fact that he couldn’t feast his eyes on her. The silky softness of her fingertips set his nerves alive. Her strawberry scent made him want to bury his face in her hair and just breathe.
But the fear in her voice held him back from acting on those impulses. She needed him. The way she talked about having no choice except to move away leveled him. He, of all people, knew how important it was for her to stay here in her hometown. When he’d left, he’d been convinced she would follow him. He’d kept tabs on her, waiting, until the day he’d learned sheʼd married Jared Lewis, a local rich guy who could offer her the home and stability she’d always craved.
Gavin had thought it best to let her go. If he’d put aside his pride and maintained the friendship, she would have had someone to turn to. Guilt hammered him. He had to keep her safe and to do that, he needed to remove the threat. Permanently.
“Let’s go inside and talk. Bring me up to speed on everything that happened with him, where he’s been living, where he might be now.”
“Just like that you and I are a team again? It’s not that simple.” He could picture her shaking her head.
“For me, it is.”
“Then why didn’t you call me when you came back?”
“Because I didn’t want your pity,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I thought we covered that already. And if I’m hearing you clearly, you’re saying it’s not okay for you to need me. But it’s fine for me to need you.”
“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“That is such a macho load of crap.”
He stood, resting his hand on the handle attached to Radar’s collar. He loved his dog and hated that he needed him, especially now, in front of Stacy. “Anastasia, are you coming inside with me or not?”
Without waiting for her to answer since standing around without being able to see her face was tearing him up inside, he started walking toward the back door. After three strides, he heard her follow with a sigh of exasperation. He mentally counted the paver stones on his way to the back door, then the three steps leading into the duplex, including the last step that was shorter than the others. He ducked his head and entered the kitchen, aware of Stacy following.
She stopped in the middle of the tile floor. “I brought the lemonade back inside. It shouldn’t go to waste. Do you mind if I get glasses from the cabinet and pour us each a fresh drink?”
Stacy always did babble when she was nervous.
“Sure, go ahead. I have ham and cheese sandwiches in the fridge, already made.” He hadn’t wanted her to see him fumble around. He was getting better at making his way through the world, but there was so much unpredictability. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to read her face put him at a disadvantage. Did she hate him for leaving? Or worse yet, was she indifferent?
So many years wasted holding a grudge over their last fight, the ultimatums issued in their tiny studio apartment. If he’d swallowed his pride, he could have helped her. He could have seen her at least one more time before going blind. “We can talk about a plan to prevent a repeat of last night.”
“You’re serious.” Ice clinked from the pitcher into the glasses as he heard her fill two of them.
He paused at the refrigerator. “Do you doubt I can help you? Because I’m blind?”
“No,” she said with a quick assurance. “I doubt because I’ve seen how determined he is. Nothing I do makes a difference. Can we talk about something else instead? Just…catch up? Be two normal friends who haven’t seen each other in years?”
Could they pull that off? He might have thought so twenty-four hours ago. Now that she’d touched him, now that he’d heard her voice again? His feelings for her were so much fiercer than friendship.
But he would play along for the moment, if that’s what she wanted. “Sure, have a seat and I’ll get the sandwiches. Do you still like grapes?”
“I do, thank you.” The chair scraped against the floor as she sat at his wooden table.
He used the old furniture from his apartment before the accident. Familiar items helped ground him as he figur
ed out how to build images without sight.
“Your dog is magnificent.”
“His name is Radar.” Gavin pulled out the Tupperware container of sandwiches. He preferred mayo, but since he remembered she liked spicy mustard, he’d just made them all the same. He set the food in the middle of the table, then picked up the colander of grapes, added two plates, and took a seat beside her. All without tripping or dropping a thing.
He felt the brush of Stacy’s fingers an instant before she pressed the glass of lemonade into his hand. The heat of resentment almost matched the heat of desire flaming from that simple touch.
Her hand slid away. “How did you get matched with a service dog?”
He exhaled hard, his body still rigid from wanting her. “One of my teammates has a wife who works with search and rescue dogs. Her name’s Rachel. She had connections to partner me with a service dog. My squadron raised the money to pay for the training and transport. I didn’t know that part until later. I was told the dog was covered by my insurance. I was too drugged up on pain meds to question it. By the time I found out the truth, Radar and I had…gotten close.”
He more than depended on Radar. Their bond was tight.
“Is it okay if I pet him? He’s working, right?”
“As long as I give him permission. Radar, boy, this is Stacy, my friend.” He patted the dog’s rib cage. “Hold out your hand for him to sniff, then you can stroke his ears.”
His dog held still, but Gavin could feel the acceptance flow between them.
She angled back. “What a good boy, and clearly so smart. I would imagine a comfort too, back then.”
“He was, and he is. But I still don’t like charity.” He picked up his sandwich.
“Hmmm.” The sound of her chewing filled the space between them as they slid into old routines, the years melting away. “You figured out a way to pay them back for Radar, didn’t you?”
He stayed silent, biting into his sandwich more for something to do than for food. The spicy mustard filled his taste buds, but he’d eaten worse out in the field on missions.
Way of the Warrior Page 7
