I froze. “Wait, what?” I looked at the bag, head moving faintly. “I don’t know—I don’t cook, Lala.”
“It’s cooked. Just warm it up at three-fifty for a few minutes. It’s Peter’s favorite.” Before I could object or maybe ask again what was happening, she reached out and touched my arm. “Emma, please. I’ll be there after checking on the Allens and getting them settled with some food.”
“Okay,” I said softly and twisted around to pick up the remaining bag. Once she was getting out, I opened up my own door and followed the path to Reed’s door.
Trying desperately not to think about the last time I’d been there and wondering what horrible thing had led to me being there then. Because I knew I wasn’t supposed to be the person bringing food and comforting people.
That was Lala.
Not someone who was a virtual stranger.
The door swung open less than a minute after I knocked, revealing Peter. Hair wet and sticking out in every direction . . . shirtless.
I shifted my stare just past him as he said, “Reed isn’t here.”
Disappointment dipped in my stomach even though I’d already known he wouldn’t be. “Yeah, I think I’m actually here for you.” I cleared my throat and forced myself to meet his stare. “Lala sent me.” I held out the bag awkwardly and hurried to explain, “With food.”
He stepped back, letting me in, and shut the door behind me.
Putting me in a house alone with a man I didn’t know.
“I’ll be back,” he said, giving me a tight-lipped smile as he started away from me. Turning to walk backward, he pointed off to the side. “Kitchen’s back there.”
Right.
Because I was supposed to be making something for him.
If Lala hadn’t been so devastated, I would hate her for the position she’d put me in.
By the time I finally started walking toward the kitchen, I was shaking and on alert, watching for when Peter would return. Listening to every sound as I set the bag down on one of the counters and slowly began taking containers and dishes out. Looking at the displayed utensils and knife block as I looked around for the oven and turned it on.
“This isn’t necessary,” he said when he came back, making me jump. His steps too quiet to be natural for how tall and broad he was.
I whirled around to find him running his hands through his hair and looking over everything on the counter . . . wearing a shirt.
“Lala didn’t need to go through the trouble, and she didn’t need to send you here. I’m sorry she did.” He gave me an apologetic look, then leaned up against the counter, folding his arms over his chest.
“It’s fine.”
Amusement left him on a huff at the clipped words, a smile slowly pulling at one side of his mouth. “Sounds like it.”
“It is.” I tried to sound assuring, but I was standing feet from a man I’d seen for maybe a minute before then. I’d never been alone with a man who wasn’t Reed.
Not by choice, anyway.
It had every guard rising. It had every fear creeping to the surface until I was choking on them.
“You remind me of someone,” Peter said, pushing from the counter and grabbing at a few of the containers to help me since I clearly didn’t know what I was doing. “She’s like my little sister, and she’s the only part of Texas I miss.”
“You’re from Texas?”
He grunted in response, then groaned when he lifted the lid on the casserole. “Ah, Lala . . .”
“She said it was your favorite.”
“It is,” he said as he picked the dish up and took it over to set it in the oven. “She made it the first night I came here. Decided I was adopting your grandma and staying here forever right then.”
A little smile shaped my lips as I closed the lid on the rice to keep it warm.
“Savannah,” he said when he shut the oven, “that’s her name.”
I looked back at him, eyebrows drawn together.
“She’s kind and sweet and caring, but if you cross her?” He made a face that was at once adoring and fearful. “Well, just don’t cross her.”
“The girl who’s like your sister,” I said in understanding.
He nodded.
“You said I remind you of her, but you don’t know me.”
A laugh broke free. “I can’t get my guy to shut up about you.”
As if just the mention of him had summoned him, the front door opened and shut, and Reed called out, “Forgot my keepers.” Voice low and rough and sounding exhausted in a way that went so far past anything I’d been feeling from my sleepless nights and the tireless work at the store.
The heavy sound of his boots on the wood floors had my heart pounding and instincts rising to the surface. When he cleared the hallway, my body went still—the same as his. The sight of him in uniform had my stomach twisting with disgust, all while something deeper yearned for him. Ached.
“Hey,” he said slowly, looking between Peter and me, dark brows drawing together in confusion and question.
“Lala,” Peter answered as he walked out of the kitchen, as if her name explained it all.
Reed waited until he’d disappeared before starting toward me, steps cautious and expression wary. When he was a handful of feet away, he said, “I’m gonna keep coming toward you until you tell me to stop.”
I nodded, the movement jerky and rough as I watched him come closer, my body completely at war. Every defensive instinct thrashing, begging to be set free. But all I said was, “You might want to stop before you knock me over.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth as he stopped directly in front of me. “Can’t tell you how much I hate finding you in my house alone with my roommate,” he said, words all a rough confession as he held his hand out between us. “But I needed this.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I said honestly, slipping my trembling hand into his and melting against the counter when he lifted it to pass his lips across my palm exactly the way he’d done that morning as we were saying goodbye.
“Lala sent you over with dinner.”
“But I don’t know why.” The words came out slow and unsure as I studied his eyes for the first time.
Flat and dull and filled with the same exhaustion I’d heard in his voice. Not at all matching the way he was looking at me as if he was trying to appear unaffected.
Peter had the same look when I’d forced myself to meet his stare.
“She’s next door. She said she’d be here soon,” I finished, then flinched from his grasp when the muffled sounds of people talking came through his earpiece, loud enough for me to hear.
The effect was immediate.
The instinct to run. To hide whatever shouldn’t be seen. To protect a woman who had never protected me.
Alarm covered Reed’s face before a devastating realization set in. His head dipped slowly, his hand coming up to grip at the back of his neck. “I have to go. I was just swinging by to grab something.”
“Keepers,” I whispered, recalling what he’d said when he walked in. Not that I had any idea what those were.
A muffled laugh left him, bemusement kissing his lips as if he couldn’t understand how he’d forgotten them in the first place. “Yeah.” He started stepping away but stopped, rocking back to face me. “Can I see you in the morning?”
My head moved in a mixture of a nod and a shake as I struggled to speak around everything choking me. “If you want. You seem . . .” My shoulders bunched up. “I don’t know what happened, but something clearly did, or I wouldn’t be standing here. Do you need to be here for Peter?” I searched his eyes again, my voice lowering. “Or just by yourself?”
Reed’s voice was all strained gravel when he said, “I’d like to see you.”
My chest ached at his veiled pain. At the words he didn’t say but still hung between us as if he’d shouted them.
I need to see you.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?” h
e asked, brow creasing as hope flickered in those gray eyes.
“Yeah, but I’ll understand if something changes.”
He let out something that might’ve sounded like a laugh if it wasn’t so weighed down. “It won’t,” he said as he left the kitchen, the sound of his boots echoing in my mind and mocking me as he went.
I jolted away from the memories when a frantic knocking sounded on the door, my head snapping in the direction both guys had gone.
When neither appeared, I hesitantly started out of the kitchen and in that direction, hoping Lala was finally coming to help and maybe explain whatever was going on.
But when I opened the door, the woman on the other side wasn’t Lala, and she looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Cradling her swollen stomach and choking back sobs as she blinked up at me.
“Oh . . . um . . .” She forced a swallow, looking around her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”
I stepped away and called out for Reed.
The woman looked at me again, eyebrows twisting up with worry. “Is Peter not—Peter.” A hiccupped sob escaped her as her stare caught on something past me.
I turned in time to see Peter falter in his steps, his expression falling before he was rushing for the door.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, stare darting all over the woman. Taking in everything about her before settling on her face, his hands hovering just over her body without actually coming in contact as if it was taking every effort not to touch her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in disbelief. “Are you okay? I just heard, and I can’t—” Her head shook wildly as she pressed one hand to her mouth and placed the other to her stomach. “Oh God.”
“Let’s go sit down, yeah?”
She waved a hand at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I’m no one,” I said quickly from where I was stuck against the wall unless I wanted to touch Peter.
I didn’t.
“This is Lala’s granddaughter,” Peter said without ever taking his eyes off the woman in the doorway, looking at her as if she placed the stars in the sky every night. As if that fact pained him.
Her eyes went wide as she turned to look at me, her mouth forming an O shape before her head snapped back at Reed’s deep, soothing voice.
“Leah.”
Her mouth trembled before another sob burst from deep within her. “Hey. Are you—”
“We’re fine,” Reed answered before she could continue. “You shouldn’t be all worked up like this though, you need to be resting. How did you even get over here with this big guy in the way?” The question was all friendly affection as he passed his hand over her stomach and clearly worked as intended because she choked out a laugh and pushed him away.
“You jerk,” she mumbled halfheartedly, eyes rolling and missing the way Peter was staring at her stomach.
At the exact spot Reed had touched.
Longing and jealousy burning deep before he forced his gaze away and swallowed forcefully.
“Hey.”
I looked away, finding steel-gray eyes on me and the sweetest invitation between us. Placing my hand into his without hesitation, a warm shudder moved down my spine when he lifted our hands and pressed his mouth to my palm.
“I’ll wake you,” he promised, voice soft and rough.
My head dipped on a delay when he started walking away, and I somehow managed to force out, “See you,” before his fingers slipped from mine.
“Oh, this is very fun,” Leah whispered, pulling my attention to where she had moved into the entryway to stand directly next to Peter, staring at me as if I were fascinating to her.
“Excuse me,” I murmured and followed after Reed, calling his name and catching up to him halfway down the walkway.
He held up a hand and rocked back a step when I neared him, saying something into his mic too low for me to hear and then taking another step away as he seemed to listen to the response.
I didn’t move.
I just waited, trying to block out everything that was happening as he muttered something else before closing the distance between us while reaching back to mess with something on his belt.
“You won’t hear anything now.”
My stare darted to his, awe moving through me and warming my chest at the gesture. At his obvious acceptance that I would tell him when I was ready even though the longing to understand swirled deep in his eyes.
I nodded in gratitude and blinked quickly, trying to remember why I’d followed him and why it was dangerous to let him take more and more of my heart. “Um . . .” I glanced back to the open doorway—to where Leah was crying all over again, and Peter was trying to comfort her without ever touching her—and gestured that way. “I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?”
“Because everything about this feels wrong,” I said adamantly. “Lala was meant to be here. Not me. It feels like I’m stepping somewhere I shouldn’t. And people are crying, but you’re saying everything’s fine, and Peter’s laughing and saying I remind him of a girl who’s like his little sister.”
Reed’s stare drifted behind me for only a second before he jerked his chin in that direction. “You mean Leah?”
My mouth had been opened to continue but shut at the unexpected comment. “What? No. He said . . .” I pointed behind me, my head slanting. “You think he views Leah like a sister?”
“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “She’s Nick’s sister, which means she’s basically our sister.”
I pressed my mouth into a firm line as I remembered the way Peter had watched her and had been so careful not to touch her when Reed had touched her pregnant stomach so casually as if it had been nothing.
It would’ve meant something to Peter.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, but that isn’t the point. Lala was clearly wrecked and so is Leah, but the two of you are acting like nothing happened. And whether or not something happened, I shouldn’t be the one doing whatever it is Lala wanted me to because I don’t know Peter.”
“We’re not acting like nothing happened. We’re dealing,” Reed said, voice grave. “We all have our own ways, and what you’re seeing—laughing, joking, normalcy—is how Peter deals so he doesn’t spiral. Leah coming over sobbing is going to make it a hell of a lot harder for him. If Lala does the same . . .” He shrugged.
I studied his eyes, watching how they seemed to dull in front of me, and wished I knew how to comfort him. That I had the ability to comfort him. “What exactly happened?” When he didn’t answer, I said, “If you think I can’t handle—”
“I know you can,” he muttered, a deep ache weaving through his voice. “Emma, I haven’t even scratched the surface with you, and I already know you can handle anything put in front of you. But you don’t want to hear it from me—not right now.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist as a sliver of unease wove through my confusion. “Okay.”
“When we were overseas, we saw things we never imagined we’d come across. When things happen in the military or in our current line of work, they have to be categorized because, otherwise, there’s no going on in that minute, and there’s no surviving after it’s over. So, you push it into a part of your brain, you continue doing your job, and you process it however you need to later so you don’t lose yourself. And right now? I can give you the details of what happened, but that’s all they’ll be: Details. Because I need time before I start processing. Understand?”
I understood better than I probably should, and it made me hurt for him even more. For what he’d seen and whatever had taken place that day. “Yeah.”
Appreciation swirled in those dulled eyes as he stepped back. “As much as I hate the thought of you in there with him, let him laugh. He’ll process tonight, but he needs things to be normal today. If he doesn’t have that? He’s gonna be bad off . . . trust me.”
“Of course. I’ll—” My head moved in a mess of nods and
shakes because I had no idea what I would do or say to ensure that happened. “Normal. He’ll have normal.”
“Thank you.” The words were weighed down with some emotion I couldn’t begin to fathom as he continued backward, his eyes shouting that he wanted to be closing the distance instead. “See you in the morning, Emma Wade.”
“Goodnight,” I whispered as he turned, hand already reaching back to turn on his radio again.
With a fortifying breath, I headed back into the house, opening the door as I went and letting out a relieved breath when I heard Lala’s voice coming from the kitchen area.
But the relief faded when I followed her voice and found her in front of the stove, heating up the rice and green beans as she spoke to Peter, tears falling freely down her and Leah’s cheeks.
Peter was standing there, stiff and stone-faced, with his arms folded over his chest.
He wasn’t even looking at Leah.
And I felt utterly lost right up until the moment Lala took the casserole dish from the oven, and Peter didn’t so much as move.
I walked into the kitchen, ignoring Lala’s questioning look, and went through cupboard after cupboard until I found the plates. Pulling four down, I set them onto the counter and then went about looking for silverware and cups.
“Emma, what are you doing?” Lala asked. “We are not inviting ourselves over for dinner—we are leaving Peter in peace.”
“You made enough to last them days,” I said matter-of-factly. “You’re already feeding them Thursday, and the chances of you feeding them tomorrow are high because, well . . . because you feed them constantly. So, the probability of the two of them getting through everything you made them is low, I’m starving, and I’m sure Peter won’t mind having to share a meal with three women.”
Lala’s voice was all shocked mortification as Peter barked out a laugh. “Emma Wade, what in God’s name has gotten into you?”
“Ah, Jesus,” Peter sighed in amusement. “I’m adopting her too.”
“Forgive her,” Lala began, cutting a warning look my way. “Peter, honey, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you a plate. Then we’ll get out of your hair.”
Lie to Me Page 18
