Faith would have gotten out of the booth, but she didn’t want to face him without the safety of the table between them. So, she kept her neck craned upward as she said, “Maybe you should tell her.”
“I avoid my sister at all costs. But, if she does manage to track me down, I will.”
“You avoid her, yet you stay in the area because of her?” He frowned at her, looking perplexed, and she said, “You said you were here because of your family.”
“Deb isn’t my only family.”
Faith opened her mouth, closed it again. Debra had made it sound as if she and Drew were the last of their line.
Not something Faith wanted to get into.
“I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
There was only the slightest hint of irony in his voice, but Faith caught it. And she didn’t think it was necessarily directed at her. He saw her as his sister’s puppet. Which she was.
A moment later he was on his way out of the café, and Faith’s limbs went weak with relief when the door closed behind him. She propped an elbow on the table and pressed her hand to her forehead as a wave of depression followed relief. Sheer adrenaline had gotten her through the meeting, but now...wet noodle.
She’d thought she was doing better. She’d even managed to deal with the big guy on the college grounds maintenance crew who had tried to hit on her. He wasn’t as close to her assailant’s body type as Drew Miller was, but he was big. And muscular.
But not powerful.
Drew Miller exuded an aura of power, and that was the difference.
* * *
“YOU DIDN’T EVEN give it a chance, did you?”
Somehow Drew refrained from rolling his eyes at his sister. That would only lengthen the time he had to spend in her uncomfortable-feeling McMansion, defending his desire to run his life his way. He’d been truthful when he told Faith Hartman that he avoided his sister at all costs, but sometimes offense was more effective than defense with Deb. She needed to forget the therapy idea and accept the fact that he could handle matters on his own. He took a deep breath, spoke calmly.
“I know you mean well—”
“Of course, I mean well,” Deb snapped.
“However, after talking with Ms. Hartman...” He shook his head. “It won’t work out.”
Deb’s mouth tightened as if he’d given exactly the answer she’d expected. “I know you feel as if Eric and I are interfering, but, Drew...you’ve changed.”
Huh. Losing his wife and having his convoy hit by a roadside bomb had changed him. Losing his comrades while grieving his wife had changed him. Coming home to a daughter he hadn’t been there to support during the roughest time of her short life had changed him. Go figure.
“And for Maddie’s sake, I think—”
“Leave my daughter out of this.” They’d discussed this before. Maddie had been hit with a double whammy in a short period of time and was not to be dragged into any of Deb’s half-baked schemes to keep up appearances. “I know I’m different, and here’s the deal, Deb. I’m not going to magically change back to the guy I once was. Not even if I pet a couple of horses.”
“It’s more than petting.”
“I know it’s more than petting.” He did his best to tamp down his growing irritation.
“If it looked like you were doing something to help yourself, then...”
“Then...?”
Deb’s mouth snapped shut.
“Then people wouldn’t be so wigged out about my living alone in Granddad’s cabin?” The further tightening of her lips answered his question. “I don’t care what people think, Deb. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m building an arsenal or writing manifestos—”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“People do live in cabins without being nuts, you know.”
Deb looked as if she’d like to argue the point, making him wish he hadn’t come, even if it was a necessary trip. Otherwise she would have hounded him via text. One of the drawbacks of his place was that even though it was isolated and didn’t have conventional power, it did have an excellent cell phone signal—if he remembered to plug his phone in and charge it when the generator was on.
“You know that Eric and I are just...concerned.” Always Eric and I, even though Drew had a feeling his brother-in-law couldn’t care less about his living on the mountain alone.
“I’ll act as normal as possible when I come to town, okay? That way people won’t talk.”
Deb took a step forward. “I think you’re afraid of this therapy.”
Change of tactic. And not a bad one. “What if I am?”
“Then you need to meet your fears head-on.” She sounded as if she were rallying troops.
“Noted. I have to go.”
“Pete’s shop?” Deb said his late wife’s brother’s name with a faint sneer.
“Yeah. He’s swamped. I told him I’d help out.” And he made it a point to be at the shop when Maddie got home from school, so they could spend time together. Deb didn’t seem to have a maternal bone in her body, so he didn’t bother mentioning that.
Drew started out the door and then looked back at his sister. “This matter is closed, by the way.”
Deb’s jaw shifted sideways as it always did when she was thwarted. It’d looked cuter when she’d been five and he’d been ten. “You are never going to segue back into society if you spend all of your time either in the cabin or Pete’s shop. You’re never going to be able to give Maddie the support she needs.”
“That’s none of your business, Deb.” The first sparks of serious anger started to burn deep in his belly. “I’m not kidding about that. Not even a little bit. Stay out of my life. No therapy, no interventions. Got it?”
She pulled in a breath through her nose, lifting her chin. “You’re my brother. If I see you driving off a cliff, I’m going to stop you.”
He gave a small snort as he pulled the door open. Sometimes talking to Deb was literally like talking to a wall.
* * *
FAITH HADN’T SEEN the Lightning Creek Ranch prior to the fire that had destroyed the house two years ago, but she’d studied enough photos to know she was living in a carbon copy of the place—on the outside, anyway. She doubted that the original house had had the same open layout, or the state-of-the-art appliances, yet the house she rented retained a homey farmhouse-feel that warmed her every time she walked through the door.
She dropped her purse on the sofa near the door and shrugged out of her coat. She was lucky to have this place—and a job. After the attack eighteen months ago, she’d given up barrel racing and quit her day job as an administrative assistant at a high school. She’d moved into a small over-the-garage apartment belonging to her friend, Jenn, an equine therapist who owned the stable where Faith boarded her horses.
It’d taken almost two months and the constant presence of a canine roommate before she’d felt safe enough to go to work for Jenn, helping with equine therapy classes, going to therapy herself. And she’d healed—to the point that when an assistant registrar job opened at the Eagle Valley Community College three months ago, and her friend Jolie Brody Culver had called about it, she’d successfully applied. It was a records job—something where she didn’t have to be in constant contact with people—and it was also a huge step forward.
Now she’d taken a step back.
It happened.
Drew Miller had triggered her. She sensed he was a decent guy—damaged, as his sister had said, but decent. That hadn’t kept her primitive survival instincts from kicking in. It was unfair and illogical, but she kind of hated him for driving home the point that she wasn’t as far along as she’d thought. That she probably would never fully recover.
She went to the back door and opened it, allowing her overgrown Airedale and personal bodyguard, Sully, to bound inside.
&nb
sp; “Yes,” Faith said as the dog sniffed at her, then rubbed his curly head on the side of her leg, “I had a rough end to my day.” Sully always managed to read her and react accordingly. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to sleep on the foot of her bed that night, crushing her feet with his reassuring weight, as he always did when she’d suffered a fright or a setback.
The house was darker than normal due to the blue-gray clouds that had rolled in as she drove home from work, so she snapped on a light and headed over to the gas stove to flip the switch. A cheery blue fire began playing over a fake birch log.
There was a low rumble in the distance as she went into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of merlot out of the cupboard next to the fridge. After the meeting with Debra’s brother, she deserved a glass of wine. Maybe two. Her lips curved humorlessly as she uncorked the bottle.
She left the wine to breathe and walked to the window, staring out at the dramatic sky. Across the field, Jolie and Dylan’s lights were on. They’d chosen to build on the far side of the property, while the older Brody sister, Allie, and her husband had built a custom home in the trees at the base of the mountain, leaving the main house for their sister Mel and her husband. Only Mel had chosen to stay in New Mexico for another year while she and her husband, KC, wrapped up their business there, so the house had been empty, waiting for a temporary occupant—and her horses.
Jolie had been a lifesaver. And now, even though Faith didn’t see much of the Brody sisters due to their work schedules and busy home lives, she knew they’d be there if she had a problem. She went to the window and stared out at the lights at the opposite end of the field.
Drew Miller was also her neighbor. She’d watched through the café window to see what he drove, and sure enough, she recognized the red Jeep he’d climbed into. It had passed her a time or two as she’d ridden her mare along the county road toward Dani Brody Matthews’s place. Dani was the only Brody sister who didn’t have a house on the Lightning Creek Ranch. Instead she and her husband lived in a beautiful stone and glass house on the road leading to the trestle bridge—the road to Drew Miller’s house.
The thought of him being near shouldn’t bother her. He wasn’t her attacker—just a guy with a similar build, who probably had PTSD.
Lightning forked through the sky on the other side of the valley and Sully abandoned his chew toy to follow Faith into the mudroom where she slipped into her barn coat. She still had to feed the animals and it seemed wise to do it now, before the storm hit for real. After all the hungry equine mouths had been fed, she’d come back in, nuke a TV dinner, sip her wine and do her best to forget about having to deal with Debra Miller-Hill, whose brother she wouldn’t be helping. She would have loved to tack on “through no fault of her own,” but she’d been the one to back off.
Faith had no idea whether Drew Miller would discuss the matter when his sister brought it up, but she hoped that if he did, it wouldn’t affect her job. Debra had been registrar for less than a year, but she already had a reputation for being hyperaware of everything that went on in her department. In other words, she tended to micromanage anyone who was on her radar, and she was all about appearances. And loyalty. The woman was insecure and defensive, and Faith had a bad feeling that she was sitting right smack in the middle of Debra’s radar screen.
* * *
DREW SLOWED THE open-top Jeep as he passed the Lightning Creek Ranch, though he would have preferred to have gunned it. He could see the rain coming in the rearview mirror and he had no desire to get caught in a downpour. He shot a look at the ranch buildings as he passed. Lights shone in the windows of two of the houses—the main house closest to the road and a small house on the far side of the pasture. His would-be therapist’s house, no doubt.
He fixed his eyes back on the road, swerving to miss a pothole. One reason Deb had been so adamant about trying the horse-petting program, aka equine therapy—he really hated the word therapy—was because he and Faith were practically neighbors. Like that affected anything. But his sister was one to grab at anything she could find to win an argument.
Usually, she didn’t win so much as wear him down. This time she didn’t win or wear him down because he wasn’t going to have her poking her nose into his mental health, especially when he was convinced that her concern was more about blowback on herself than because she gave a rat’s ass about him.
And then there was Faith Hartman. He’d expected her to be like his sister—superficially concerned about him, ready to “help” in exchange for remaining in his sister’s good graces and receiving a healthy session fee.
She hadn’t been anything like he’d expected. She’d appeared serious, honest, sincere.
Jumpy as hell.
She’d visibly drawn into herself when he’d taken a seat on the opposite side of the booth and even though she’d squared her shoulders and met his gaze, it had cost her. There’d been a haunted look in her wide green eyes, giving him the feeling that Faith had a few issues of her own. What made a woman who appeared to have backbone go pale at the sight of him?
Drew slowed again as he passed the beautiful stone, wood and glass house where his nearest neighbors—his former classmate, Dani Brody, and her husband, Gabe—lived. Near being a relative term. Drew’s cabin was another three miles up a road that rapidly degenerated from maintained gravel to rutted dirt. And regardless of what his sister thought was best, he liked living on a rutted, unmaintained road. Maddie was good with it, too. In fact, she loved the bouncy ride to the cabin on the weekends.
He’d talked about the situation with Pete and Cara and they’d agreed that when summer vacation started, Maddie would stay at the cabin more often but return to their place at night. She didn’t know about the plan and still thought she’d be at the cabin full-time, but hopefully, between Drew and Pete and Cara, they could help her understand why this was the best course of action—why he didn’t want her at the cabin if he came unhinged during the night. The thought of Maddie being there if he woke up yelling or punching a wall ruined him.
The sky was getting darker and he could smell the rain that was going to catch him if he didn’t step on the gas.
Thunder cracked behind him as he negotiated a corner, and then the rain started, spattering on the windshield, the seat beside him, his jeans and shoulders. He dodged a couple ruts and accelerated. Another two miles.
Lightning flashed as he rounded a corner, illuminating the white-tailed buck standing in the middle of the road. Drew swerved hard to the right, just missing the animal, then cranked the wheel back toward the road too late.
The front tire caught the berm, jerking the rig sideways. It teetered on the edge of the embankment before crashing down on its side and then rolling over onto its top.
Drew was thrown sideways and he smacked his head on something, making stars explode in his vision as the Jeep came to a rest on the roll bar. He hung from his seat belt as the rain began to pound.
Copyright © 2018 by Jeannie Steinman
ISBN-13: 9781488085666
The Soldier’s Homecoming
Copyright © 2018 by Patricia Potter
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