Only If You Dare

by Margo Hoornstra

  Highly decorated, combat missions, on the ground. And, if the soldier he’d served with told the truth—and why wouldn’t she believe him—Jonah had experienced, perhaps still did, those dreaded episodes of PTSD.

  As the flurry of information continued, Cynthia drifted in and out of the conversations.

  Colonel Colt knows exactly what I’m going through. Flashbacks. Unusual anger and depression that never seem to go away.

  After another round of hugs and thank yous, Jonah and Cynthia continued on to the exit. As they left the dimly lit restaurant and stepped into the chilling darkness, maybe it shouldn’t have, but the slow burn of anger kept her upright and moving. Anger she absolutely had to hang on to at all costs. Or risk the chance she’d fall apart in front of him.

  He’d lied to her. Knowing how she felt about the people she counseled. Probably got a kick out of it when she talked about having to deal with the problem herself after the robbery incident at the bar. Nothing, not even learning of Phil’s initial affair ten years into their marriage, hurt like this. Exactly why she had to keep her rage boiling, even if it meant she got scalded beyond repair in the process.

  The moment they were inside his car, she could no longer hold in her torment. “You could have told me.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong.” Hands on the wheel, focus out the windshield, he didn’t even dignify her rage with a sideways glance, let alone a voice raised in anger. “You had no interest in learning about me.”

  Turned toward him, her mouth opened to reply, she snapped it shut. Presenting her shoulder, she fumed—not at him, but herself—because what he said was true. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know about him. It was that she couldn’t afford to. Knowledge led to commitment and—

  It just did.

  They drove home in silence, and when they arrived at her house, she had the car door flung open and was out of it even before he came to a complete stop.

  He jammed the car in park so violently, its chassis jerked and rocked. Then he hurried around to join her on the sidewalk, but she would have none of it, or him.

  “I can certainly find the way to my own front door by myself.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  When he insisted on following her, she slammed to a stop so sudden, she stumbled then threw his hand off her arm when he tried to steady her.

  “You could have told me. You had any number of opportunities. To give me the courtesy of the truth.”

  “I owed you that courtesy because?” He didn’t wait for the answer he obviously had no interest in hearing. “It’s not something I take pleasure in talking about. And isn’t that what we were all about? Pleasure.” He snatched his gaze away before he took hold of hers again. “And nothing but the pleasure.”

  “You purposely deceived me,” she charged. “And, I—” Her voice cracked when she tried to go on.

  “Did I deceive you? Did I really?” He spoke in such a low tone, strong and level, she could only stand still and listen. “Or was my silence about my personal life, my private thoughts, exactly what you wanted and expected of me?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “For Christ’s sake, you didn't even tell your daughter about my existence. Couldn’t even own up to the fact that you maybe had a friend. Someone who cared about you outside of the four walls of your bedroom.”

  “You bear a certain responsibility, too.”

  He clamped his teeth together and swallowed. “I only went along with what seemed to be working for you. That didn’t mean I had to like it.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “You never seemed to take much interest in me as a person. I guess I didn’t get the memo saying anything about my life would matter to you.”

  “Of course it would.” The look on his face—rejection, betrayal—were like a series of daggers aimed at her heart, but she couldn’t give in.

  “Then I stand corrected.” His tone was flat. “But only as it applies to you.”

  Target hit and obliterated.

  “I had a right to know.” Her head lowered, eyes closed. A sigh slumped her shoulders. Truth was, discovering Jonah suffered from PTSD, she was far more scared than angry.

  She shuddered to think what might have been.

  Oh God! What might have been. What could have happened.

  “Did you? Did you have that right?”

  The murmur hit her ears like a shout, and her eyes flew open. Head slanted to one side, he seemed to do his best to get a look at her face. She made sure he failed.

  “Because I sure didn’t notice.”

  “I just—” Chin lifting, she finally raised her gaze to meet his. “I—no.” Breaking eye contact for only a second, she locked onto his gaze again. “Maybe I could help you.”

  A hand reached out, her finger tips brushed his sleeve then dropped away when he stiffened.

  “Save it for those who want it.”

  Her anger, the accusations and harsh words of retaliation had all been used up. She could only nod a feeble agreement.

  “We came into this expecting nothing.”

  More tears of regret swelled up until she was sure she’d burst open from holding them inside. “And that’s how we leave.”

  “That’s how we leave.”

  His concession, his words of agreement were like more well-honed daggers. Razor sharp and deadly. Weapons that had found their mark.

  Because in that instant, she had nothing left to live for.

  Chapter Twelve

  At the soft knock on his office door, Jonah set aside the legal brief. “Yes?”

  Joyce stuck her head in the door. “You have another wedding ceremony to perform. The couple should be here in about five or ten minutes.”

  He suppressed a groan. It really didn’t matter, but he asked anyway. “Any special requests or can I just wing it?”

  “None that I’m aware of. Just be your old, amicable self.” When he failed to even crack a smile at that, she came fully into the room and shut the door. “Are you feeling okay? The flu is going around, you know. Maybe you have a touch of—”

  “It’s not the flu.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  As he glanced up, her eyes told him she suspected something bad had happened in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to blurt out the entire story.

  In its all-inclusive pitiful splendor.

  He’d met a woman he couldn’t live without. One who needed him as much as he needed her. Or so he’d thought. And now he had to teach himself how to live without her.

  She has a lot going on in her life.

  A couple of other excuses why they couldn’t, or shouldn’t, be together lined up in his mind and filtered down to his tongue, ready to be spoken.

  Basically, she’d seen his weakness and didn’t like it—hell, couldn’t accept it. And why should she?

  “Care to discuss it?”

  You have no idea. “Nothing to discuss.”

  It only took two more tries before Joyce stopped asking and left him alone. Though she did leave the door open between his office and hers.

  Shoving the half read legal brief into his bottom desk drawer, he blew out a breath of frustration. Truth was, he only had himself to blame. Wasn’t he the one who wanted Cynthia Buckingham to get to know the real Jonah Colt? Damned if he didn’t accomplish that and then some. Maybe what they’d had for a while, a connection that flew beneath the radar, was all it was meant to be. If only he’d been smart enough to leave well enough alone.

  “Five minutes and counting.” Joyce’s voice drifted back from out front. “Then you’re off for the rest of the day.”

  With both hands flat on his desk top, Jonah stood. May as well paste on his happy face and do his best to make someone’s day memorable.

  ‘Cause it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen for him. Not in this lifetime.

  Getting through the wedding with what he considered an Oscar worthy performance, Jonah grabbed his coat when he an
d Joyce were again alone. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Enjoy your afternoon off. Then have a good week-end.”

  “I’ll do my best.” But it isn’t going to be easy.

  Adjusting his coat collar, he walked out the door.

  The crosstown trip to the community mental health center was uneventful. Except, when his route passed by Cynthia’s subdivision, he had all he could do not to turn in to see if she was home.

  Then what?

  Then nothing, so keep going.

  It was the blessed end of a rough week, and he was using his well-earned Friday afternoon off to fulfill a promise made long ago.

  Lecture a group of newly returned combat veterans on integrating themselves back into the work force and society.

  Yeah. Like he was a friggin’ authority on how to accomplish that.

  ****

  Sessions like the one Jonah had just completed always took a lot out of him—more emotionally than anything else—especially when the Q and A turned personal.

  Now all he wanted was to go home.

  Standing between two elevators, he waited for one or the other to arrive and take him down to the underground parking garage, the security of his car and ultimately his townhouse where he had his evening all planned out. Upon arrival, he’d exchange his business clothes for a comfortable pair of sweats, pour himself a shot or two of something strong on the rocks, then he’d sit in his recliner and stare at the curtain covered windows. And play over in his mind memories of the woman he’d loved and lost.

  Maybe eventually, he’d throw a frozen something or other in the microwave. Possibly catch the late night news. Then go to bed and hope to hell that his pity party would at some point close its doors so he could fall asleep and perhaps dream about her, too.

  Jesus, Colt. Man up, stop whining.

  Ping!

  He glanced over as the car to his right stopped with an audible bump before the double doors split open at their center. As he stepped inside, something creaked and the car dipped a few inches, then rebounded to level up with the floor.

  “Hold the elevator! Please! Hold it!”

  On reflex, he stuck out his arm to force the closing doors to slide apart. A pair of familiar legs with a stack of boxes in front of them hurried toward him.

  “Thank you so much.”

  Still busy juggling her parcels, she moved toward the back of the car. But, when Cynthia glanced over and saw it was him, the look of sheer horror that flashed across her features tore a hole in his heart.

  “What are you—”

  “Why am I here? Not because of you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I certainly wasn’t worried about that. I just—”

  “I didn’t even make the connection this was where you worked, so don’t bother getting your panties in a bunch.”

  She jerked her gaze away. “You can leave my panties out of it. And I really don’t care why you’re here.”

  “Fulfilling a promise to a friend. A buddy of mine asked me to address a group for him. In my capacity as a veteran, not a patient.”

  “There’s no shame either way.”

  “Look. I have occasional nightmares, vivid memory recall.” He ignored her when she mouthed the word flashbacks. “And, when I think too much about the high costs of war, I get depressed. What normal person wouldn’t?”

  “You don’t have to suffer with any of it. If you don’t want to.”

  “Pain is a part of life. No one can make that go away for someone else. We human beings are more adept at inflicting pain on one another than any other species.”

  She closed her eyes at his words and visibly flinched. “Maybe only because we care so much.”

  “Care about what?” He made the demand to know, then didn’t wait for an answer. “Self-preservation? Maybe I can’t change what you think of me, but believe me, I’m not going to suddenly become some out of control ogre bent on hurting the people around me. Been there, done that with those who would have killed me if I hadn’t.”

  “You say that as if you’ve been accused of being an ogre before.”

  Silence thundered. He wasn’t sure she deserved an answer. And careful to stay on his side of the car, he made damned sure no emotion showed on his face.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her voice washed over him, but he wouldn’t let it come inside. “If I did so, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

  He kept his head averted. No sense in taking a chance she’d see the pleading in his gaze and offer to help, out of pity.

  Eyes trained on the square, red numbers changing in decreasing sequence, he was conscious of her movement behind him, shifting farther away. Well, more power to her if she preferred to take up her position at the far corner of the car. He’d just as soon she—

  Crack!

  The lights overhead flickered then came back on. Those on the control panel blinked to nothing.

  “What the—?”

  Wham!

  The car shuddered then dropped so fast it felt as if his legs came up to meet his neck.

  “What’s going on?” Dropping the boxes she held, she spread her arms out behind her to hang on.

  “I don’t know.” Pushing off, he was about to move toward her when the car pitched then jerked tossing him backward. Another downward bounce, this one lasting longer than the others, was followed by an ungodly screech then a heart stopping jolt.

  “Whatever it was, the brakes seem to have held.” He turned to focus on the spot where she had been standing, then glanced down and dropped to his knees beside her prone form. “Are you okay?”

  “Am I what? I—”

  His hands came out to push on her shoulders as she began to sit up. “Don’t move yet.” He gave the order in the same voice he used when he came to the aid of wounded soldiers on the battlefield. “I need to make sure you’re all right first.”

  Miraculously, she did as he asked without question.

  “Did you hit your head?”

  “I don’t think so. Yes.” Tentative fingers reached toward the back of it. “Ow! Definitely.”

  As one hand maintained a secure hold on her upper arm, he brought his other behind her head to gently probe where her fingers remained. “You do have the start of a knot.” Capturing her hand, he pulled her fingers away. “Don’t poke at it. You’ll make it worse.”

  “If you say so.” She sighed then closed her eyes as a grimace scrunched up her face.

  His fingertips itched to stroke her cheek. Help clear the lines of stress from her forehead. “Be nice if we had an ice pack.”

  Hang in there, soldier. We’ll have you patched up and on your way home in no time.

  His breath whooshed out as he recalled the line he’d used way too often. Most times true to his word. A few times not.

  “Before I became a judge, I was a lawyer specializing in family law.”

  She opened one eye. If his attempt at small talk surprised her, she didn’t show it. “Were you any good?”

  “I’d like to think so. I made a decent living.”

  “You were lucky. Doing what you wanted. I missed all of that—girls academy immediately followed by Stephens College where I earned a degree which prepared me for absolutely nothing in life except to be able to converse about an archaic subject—and in French if the occasion called for it.” Her voice lowered. “Immediately followed by an expensive and lavish wedding to a man who did very little for me, but everything for my father’s bottom line.”

  “Why’d you put up with it? Why didn’t you fight back? Rebel or something?”

  “After I got married without experiencing life? I don’t know. With Jen there, I had no reason to try for anything different. Didn’t know any better.”

  At a sudden pop then muted sizzle, he ducked his head and extended his arms—combat ready—then literally pulled himself together. “Well, that’s some progress.”

  Her gaze lifted to the fluore
scent panel in the ceiling where she blinked at the glare then groaned. “If you want to call it that.”

  Both eyes closed just before her head fell to one side, and Jonah hurried to cup her face in his hands. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

  Her lids fluttered open. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere right now. The light is just so bright. From this angle at least.”

  Using his open hand to shield her from the glare, he shifted her so she leaned against him. “Is that better?”

  “Yes.”

  Her head settled on his chest. He couldn’t help himself and wrapped her in his arms.

  “That’s even better yet.”

  Though her comment made him smile, he guarded his words. “Whatever I can do to make you more comfortable.”

  A series of thumps and bumps erupted from behind Jonah. They both looked over as the doors were pried apart. “We have the car secure, folks. And we’ll try to get you out now.”

  “Do you need help getting up?”

  “Yes, please.” Shifting her feet underneath her, she extended her hands his way.

  Sliding warm palms beneath surprisingly cool ones, he closed his fingers around her wrists for firmer support before he hauled her first to her feet and then, briefly, against him.

  “How’s that bump doing? Any dizziness?”

  He seized the opportunity—maybe unfairly—to cradle the back of her head in his palm and draw her closer. To his amazement, instead of going rigid and pushing away, she melted into him on a sigh.

  Like that time on the battlefield when the sniper shot missed its mark, Jonah thanked God he’d been given a second chance.

  With gentle fingers beneath her chin, he tipped up her face so he could study her eyes. “Let’s get you out of here and safe.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  She was conscious of the warmth of Jonah’s hand as his palm slid down the outside of her thigh, over her knee and along her calf then across her ankle before letting her go.

  Then a fire-fighter in full rescue gear hoisted her through the propped open doors.

  “Watch yourself, ma’am.” The words came from somewhere underneath a helmet with the shield pushed back.