by Jodie Bailey
She met him fully, slipping her arms around his waist and drawing him closer.
His hands wound deeper in her hair, trying to get as close to her as possible, to communicate his emotions in a way his words couldn’t. Everything else slipped away and there was nothing but this woman, filling all his senses and awakening every dead place inside him.
He was going to drown in her if he didn’t come up for air.
Travis pulled away slightly, brushed a kiss beside her eye, then held her tight against him, pressing his cheek into her hair and taking in the scent of her. Right now, he could give up everything else and ask her for the rest of her life. They could work the rest out as they went. He could do it all, as long as she was with him.
Slowly, Casey slipped her arms from his back and brought her hands between them, pressing against his chest.
He resisted at first, then let her ease a few inches away.
She stayed in the circle of his arms, her cheek pressed against her hands on his chest as though she wanted to break away but couldn’t find the strength.
Pressing a kiss to her temple, Travis dug deep for a way to tell her what was on his heart and to say the words he’d almost said before.
The words he should have said before.
But he couldn’t. If he said them, he could never take them back, not without hurting her even worse than he had the first time. His life wasn’t his own, and he couldn’t promise her a future when he could die on any given deployment. The way things were shaping up around them now, either of them could die right here on home soil. The thought pulsed through him, hot and paralyzing.
Casey had to sense his tension. She stiffened and slipped out of his embrace. “I can’t do this.”
The softly spoken words were a blow. “Casey, I—”
“You’re not sure what you want, even now. Getting over you was... No, I’m not over you. But I can’t let you pull me in and then shove me away again. You don’t get to do that. I won’t let you.” Without ever lifting her head, she slipped around him and walked away.
Hot shame washed over Travis, heating him from the inside out as Casey disappeared into the trees that hid the farmhouse from view.
Travis’s shoulders sagged. His muscles strained to chase her and tell her he loved her and there was a way to work this out.
But as the distance grew between them, so did the certainty her walking away was the right thing. He’d hurt her before, and he’d have to let her go and let God take his time healing her.
And he needed a lot more time with God, because his future grew muddier with every moment he spent in Casey’s presence.
THIRTEEN
Travis scrubbed his hand across his forehead, still damp from physical training. He stood in the quad at the battalion and watched soldiers filter out to grab showers and hot chow. He ought to follow them—his stomach urged him hard—but he couldn’t. Instead of taking care of himself, he planned to use this brief bit of free time to drive by Public Affairs and make sure Casey was safe.
He couldn’t shake the thought he wasn’t doing enough. Not only was someone coming at them from the outside, he’d ripped her apart on the inside. Travis kicked at the ground, frustrated by his own double mind. “This grass needs to be cut, Luke. Can’t they find somebody who needs a little extra discipline to get on this mess?”
Behind him, Lucas laughed. “Are you seriously about to go all Martha Stewart about the grass around the battalion?”
“Maybe.”
“This isn’t about the grass, man. It’s about you wishing you were across post instead of here.” The knowing sheen over Lucas’s words was almost too much. Like he knew how Travis was feeling right now. Like he’d ever had to sit helplessly by while the woman he loved dodged danger.
Then again, he was probably one of the few people who knew exactly what Travis was feeling. Last year, Lucas had spent whole nights camped out on his front porch, keeping an eye on Kristin’s house when someone threatened her, denying the whole time he was in love with her.
It had been Travis who’d harassed him until he admitted it. He rolled his eyes skyward then turned to face Lucas, who was standing about ten feet away. “Payback is a beast, huh?”
“Not for me. I’m the one dishing it out.”
“Right.”
“Get your feet moving so we can grab some chow. I’m hungry. I’ll even let you drive by Casey’s office on the way.” Lucas started walking toward the company, the grin slipping from his face. “You know, you never should have let her go. Of all the dumb things you’ve done, leaving her was—”
“Don’t start.” Hammering away at his stupidity after the fact was pointless. Yeah, he’d let Casey go. He’d chosen his career over her when she hadn’t even given him an ultimatum. He was paying for it all now in a firestorm of confusion and uncertainty, the flames extra high after watching her walk away this morning.
“You realize I saved your life after that.” Lucas’s voice lifted with a tinge of amusement. “I had to almost physically keep Kristin from coming after you and giving you a need for reconstructive surgery.”
Travis choked on a laugh. He didn’t doubt it. Lucas’s fiancée was the toughest woman he’d ever met, and she was a fierce defender of the ones she loved.
His amusement took a dive straight into his running shoes. Travis had hurt her best friend. He wouldn’t have argued if Kristin had come at him. He’d have deserved it. Still did. It was a little bit surprising she hadn’t marched across the street the other night and given him a piece of her mind, three months after the fact.
“Sooner or later,” Lucas said, “you’re going to have to quit running scared.”
“Scared?” Now he was pushing it a little bit too far. Stopping as they reached the sidewalk, Travis crossed his arms and leveled his best platoon sergeant glare on his buddy. “The only thing I was afraid of was hurting her.”
“Of being happy.”
Travis arched an eyebrow and dug his fingers into his biceps. He didn’t get mad often, and almost never at Lucas, but right now the pin on the grenade was dangerously close to slipping out.
“Don’t look at me like you’re going to punch me in the face. I can take you, Heath.” Lucas stopped walking and held up a hand to keep Travis from speaking. “You act like you’re Mr. Fun-and-Games, but you’re covering this fear that if you let yourself be happy, it will all get snatched away because you somehow don’t deserve it. I get it. Your family lost everything when you were a kid. You watched a buddy die right in front of you. Kristin’s brother was taken out by a shot he never saw coming. Sure, any of us could die at any second, but you can’t live your whole life afraid.”
“Knock it off.” Lucas had zero idea of what he was talking about.
“You’re next to impossible.” Lucas threw up his hands, his voice hard. “What was it you said to me once? ‘If it’s my time, it’s my time. Any of us could die sitting on the couch just as likely as in a war zone.’ Those words came out of your mouth.”
If he’d ever said such a thing, he must have been out of his head.
“You know, we’re all going to die someday. All of us. But God never intended any of us to live like we’re already dead.”
Travis clenched his fists and leveled Lucas with a glare, anger blowing hot through his very soul. “You keep talking and you’re going to have to back up what you’re saying with—”
“With what? What are you going to do? Throw a punch? You wouldn’t. I know you. You think you’re angry right now, but it’s not anger. It’s fear. You’re so tied in knots you don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“And you don’t know what you’re saying. It wasn’t death I was afraid of when I broke it off with Casey.” Though it sure was now.
“I think, deep down, it was. The death of that relat
ionship. You were scared it would end one day, so you made it end on your terms. And another thing... You’re still alive. Your buddy isn’t. I get it. But somewhere you came up with this twisted idea God wants you to live a life full of penance, and you’ve got some calling that demands everything you’ve got. You need to ease up on yourself. Talk to God and see if it’s His voice you’re hearing or if it’s survivor guilt doing a number on you. I let it go when you dumped Sergeant Wilson’s sister right before we deployed, because she wasn’t right for you. Casey, on the other hand...”
Travis dropped his gaze. He’d apologized to Lisa Wilson, and she’d forgiven him. But the fallout had cost him the respect of her brother, one of the other platoon sergeants. It had taken a lot to ease the tension between them overseas, especially since Wilson had warned his sister Travis was the kind of guy to love ’em and leave ’em. In those days, he’d been a hard-living, hard-partying, stereotypical soldier. But then along came Lucas. His Ranger buddy and fellow platoon sergeant had backed Travis against the wall and made him face himself. Made him face the God who had been chasing Travis a lot longer than he’d cared to admit.
Lucas was right. Casey was different. He’d found himself feeling things for her he’d never felt before, feelings that were growing stronger if this morning was any indication. But he’d left her anyway, in a blazing haze of fear that he’d turn around one day and she’d be gone. Not because she’d died but because she’d figured out the fraud he was and left him.
Maybe Lucas was right.
And he wasn’t finished yet. “You blew a good thing, Heath. We’re not going to pretend you didn’t. And you blew it the same way I almost did with Kristin. Because you were believing a lie. Still are.”
Travis couldn’t take any more words pounding into his head. None of it made sense. All of it made him question what he thought he knew, and now wasn’t the time, not with Casey in danger. Not with him having no idea where the next shot could come from. Going through some kind of pseudotherapy with Lucas wasn’t helping anybody do anything. “You know what? It’s not for you to decide. Besides, with everything happening right now, starting anything with Casey is out of the question.” Even though he almost had this morning. He still wondered if he should have stopped her from walking away and scrapped the rest of his life plans, especially now with Lucas hammering on him about truth and guilt and God.
Lucas stomped up the steps and jerked the door open. “Know what? You’re stubborn and blind. Might be time for you to stop talking so much to God and start listening to what He’s trying to tell you.”
* * *
Casey’s fingers rested on the keyboard, her thumbs twitching on the space bar. The absolute conformity of the office—cream concrete walls, sparse military furnishings, plaques and awards—usually brought order and peace to her world. Today, the walls closed in and all she wanted to do was pack her bags and run away, as far as she could get. There had to be somewhere safe from unknown threats, drug overdoses and death. And from Travis Heath.
All the peace she’d found when her arrow landed on the bull’s-eye this morning had evaporated with Travis’s kiss. True, he’d kissed her before, but this time something else rocked her backward with its intensity. For the first time, he’d kissed her as though he was giving her everything, with a force that met her own feelings and magnified them until they almost knocked her off her feet.
Then his entire emotional state had shifted. She’d felt it all the way through her. He’d walled himself off.
She wasn’t going there with him again.
Letting him get close had been a mistake, and this morning had driven the point home. She’d almost lost herself right there. Nearly gave up everything in her life to safety in his arms. But that wasn’t safety. It was a fleeting moment before he came to his senses and bolted yet again, chased by the death of a soldier he felt responsible for.
At least now she knew why he’d cut her the way he had. His apology had blindsided her. She’d always assumed he was callous to her pain.
Then, when he’d kissed her, she’d been overwhelmed by everything she’d ever believed home would be. Peace, safety, comfort... The settledness of being exactly where she wanted and needed to be forever.
Except that couldn’t be right, because he wasn’t capable of giving her all of himself.
So she’d run.
What she wouldn’t give for Sergeant Brenner to come by and ask her for the usual cup of coffee, but his presence was conspicuously absent this morning, the large room quieter than normal without his teasing voice. It was probably for the best. This morning if he asked her out, she might say yes, if only to spite her own crazy emotions. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to herself.
Casey crossed her arms on her desk and dropped her head to stare into nothingness. She popped right back up again when the morning started its unending replay in the dark. Forget it. She shook her shoulders and focused on the computer screen in front of her.
She had work to do. Deep inside, where her intuition spoke loudest, she knew there was more to come. If either of them were going to get out of this unscathed, she had to find answers.
The run to the farm last night had left Casey with more questions. Deacon’s confession to her had tickled something in her mind, something John had said when she’d interviewed him for the addiction article, but the memory wouldn’t quite come to the forefront. Several months ago, she’d recorded the conversation and transcribed the notes she needed, then she’d never touched them again. If John had told her something she wasn’t supposed to know, maybe the answers were in her files after all.
Logging into her cloud account, she clicked to the folder containing her interviews and opened the one from the first time she and John had talked.
Work. Focus on work and keep Travis and bloodstained memories at bay.
Scanning the notes, she stopped at one John had later asked her not to use. During their conversation, he’d talked about coming home from his first deployment, when he’d been assigned to Fort Bragg shortly after his return. Battling his memories, he’d started drinking heavily and confided to a new friend he was struggling. The notes stopped there. She remembered the conversation and wishing he had let her use it, but he’d seemed to think it was better left unwritten.
Casey scrolled through her files until she found the recording of the session and played it, the voice of a dead man sending shivers along her arms. If she could find the truth here, she might help John point the finger at his own killer.
Whoever the “friend” was, he’d been helpful at first, but then he’d turned John toward a designer drug that offered an escape but left him with a wicked addiction. He’d used for months, then come to his senses and sought help.
Toward the end of the conversation, John seemed to forget he was talking to her. His voice took on the quality of memory tinged with regret. “Guy who used to be my team leader introduced me to him. He lives out near Raeford. Big piece of property. Lots of space. Pretty persuasive, too. I trusted him, especially since his wife’s...” A long pause dominated the recording, then he cleared his throat and chuckled. “Know what? We can leave that part out.”
A soft tap on her cubicle stopped her from hearing any more.
Deacon’s fiancée, Gwen, stood next to her cubicle, waiting uncertainly.
Casey stood, a tremor jolting through her. If Deacon’s fiancée was here in person, it could only mean...
Gwen must have read Casey’s thoughts on her face, because she leaned closer and laid a hand on Casey’s arm. “Deacon’s fine.”
With an exhale Gwen was bound to be able to hear, Casey sank into her seat and pointed at a chair wedged next to her desk. “Please.” She waited for Gwen to settle in. “How’s he doing? Any word yet on when he’ll get to go home?”
“He’s a roller coaster. This should have been a fast turnaround, but
I don’t know. He relapsed last night after you and Travis left, but there’s no way he got his hands on more drugs. Docs can’t figure it out. But if he has a good day today, they should be releasing him this time tomorrow.” Gwen hung her purse on the arm of the chair. “And I didn’t mean to scare you coming here without calling first.”
“I’m sorry. I thought when I saw you that you were bringing more bad news in person.”
“More bad news?” Gwen’s sculpted eyebrow arched. “Has something else happened?”
“A whole lot of somethings, but none of it has to do with Deacon or you.” At least, she hoped not. “What can I do for you?”
“I don’t know.” Gwen’s lips pressed together until the corners nearly turned white against her dark skin. “I know you interviewed Deacon before about addiction and recovery and I thought... I’m prior service and knew a lot of people who looked to crazy stuff to deal with what they’d seen. I didn’t know if you’d be willing to work on another story about...” She shook her head and offered a forced smile. “Watching Deacon suffer makes me want to do something, and I thought you could help. It’s part of the reason I’m here today.”
“Okay.” The hairs along Casey’s arms raised. She couldn’t quite say why, but something about Gwen’s demeanor and her words left her uneasy, almost like Travis’s expression earlier. There was more to both of their stories than they were saying. “Tell me how I can help.”
“I wanted you to know, first off, as far as I know Deacon was clean for a long time. Several years. He’s not talking to me about when he started back or how, just says he never should have started hanging out with John again. John’s the one who was supplying him. Funny thing is, though—” Gwen sat forward in the chair “—I can’t think of any signs to say he was using again. He’s been the same guy all along. So unless he’s been lying to me for years, he relapsed recently. Very, very recently.”
