by Jodie Bailey
Someone who would simply care because they cared and not because they were obligated to.
He finally dared to look at her. She’d taken up a position in the recliner and pulled her grandmother’s quilt up to her chin, her fists balled inside, from the looks of it.
But it was her eyes, wide-open and sympathetic, that completely undid him. “My ex-wife didn’t just leave. She kept up the charade for over six months, sending care packages and letters, talking about reunions, like everything was normal. She was living large on the extra money that came from me being gone. I trusted her to pay our bills and follow the savings plan we had put together, but she didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry, Trey.”
Sympathy was exactly what he didn’t want, but from Macey, it soothed something inside him. “I got off the plane for the redeployment ceremony, and she wasn’t there. Her best friend was. With an envelope stuffed with divorce papers.” It had been years, yet it still hurt. Not the losing-her part, though. He’d grieved his marriage and had moved on with his life, as hard as that had been. But to admit he’d been a blind fool was still rough. Gia had stolen everything he’d had, from his money to his heart to his pride. And he’d been the idiot who’d missed it all.
“You’re kidding.” Macey’s voice was as cutting as any blade Trey had ever used. She dropped the blanket and got up stiffly, favoring her injured side. She stood in front of the fireplace with her back to him. “I’ve heard of women doing terrible stuff like that, but I assumed it was some kind of military-wife urban legend. I can’t imagine doing that to someone you’re supposed to love and be committed to for life. I—” She bit off the words. “I’m sorry. That was hurtful.”
“But true.”
It took away some of the sting of his own clueless stupidity. Macey didn’t blame him. She blamed the woman who’d wronged him. It was a novel idea. “You know that would be illegal.” Ironic, since the whole reason he was in her life was criminal.
Criminal. He frowned. For a few minutes, he’d forgotten this was a job, but he couldn’t stop talking now. She’d grow suspicious. He’d dug a hole he now had to make his way out of, and the only way to do that without tipping her off was to finish the story.
At least, that was what he told himself. “You’re wondering what that has to do with the hospital.”
Flexing her fingers, Macey turned, then shook her hands as though she was trying to talk herself out of taking a punch at the stone fireplace. She simply watched and waited.
Waited for him. Her friendship was a gift he didn’t deserve, especially considering he’d initially befriended her to investigate her. Every day, though, he became more of the ally Macey had no idea she needed.
Sitting forward on the couch, Trey said, “I got a little self-destructive. I was young, hurt. Indestructible after two deployments. Summed up in one word, I was reckless.” All things he’d never said out loud. Captain Harrison had watched it happen, so Trey had never had to discuss it. To admit his failings to another person was both difficult and unbelievably freeing.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
But he did. This wasn’t about Macey, after all. It was something he had to do if he was going to be truly whole again.
Telling Macey was safe, because there was nothing genuine to lose. Soon, he’d vanish from her life and move on to another case, leaving her to wonder what had happened to him. That cut almost as much as Gia’s manila envelope had. “After that, I drifted. I mean, I stayed in the army, but I was following the routine and sort of sliding and not sure how to get my footing.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” Macey’s voice was low and intense, as though he was the only person in the world and what he had to say were the most important words ever spoken.
“That was pre-Jesus.” Trey thanked God every day that Jesus had found him before he’d flamed out, even if the ride to that point had nearly destroyed him.
“Hmm.” Hard to tell what that one short sound meant. Macey had never been big on Jesus, and he’d never forced it. Maybe that was one more reason she needed to hear this, or that God had made him feel the need to spill it out in all of its awful stench.
Trey pulled in a deep breath, bracing himself for the hardest part. “I was out with some buddies of mine. We were on a backcountry two-lane not far from Fort Drum. A couple of the guys decided they’d never tried drag racing before, so why not?” He could still feel the chill of the early fall New York night, could still see the dark ribbon of roadway that stretched straight into the distance for over a mile before curving to the right. Could still hear Drew Brace’s challenge. Connor Wise’s brand-new Mustang against Trey’s six-year-old Charger, the one thing he’d managed to keep after the divorce.
Trey had tried to talk Drew out of it, but the man was insistent. The way the rest of the guys were egging him on, Trey’s fight was in vain. He’d refused to drive, though he’d finally decided to ride shotgun, somehow foolishly thinking that would give him some sort of control if things went south.
Sometimes at night, he still woke up feeling the vibration of the engine as it poured through the passenger seat. Despite his reservations, it was an adrenaline high his numbed body and mind hadn’t felt since deployment, a jolt of excitement he’d chased since his return. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt like a man.
The couch beside him shifted and Trey realized he’d been staring at his fingers, had forgotten Macey was in the room. It was an abrupt jolt, looking up to see her stone fireplace in front of him and not the bluish hue of dashboard lights and dark road. Her warm hand on his back felt so different from the leather seat and the crease of his jacket that had bunched up behind him that night. It was as though she sensed where this was going.
He told her everything, and her fingers dug deeper into his back with each passing word. The roar of engines and the squeal of the tires. The sudden swerve of the vehicle as Drew lost control and the explosive jolt as the Charger slammed into a pole and flipped forward.
The vehicle had been split by the pole—straight through the steering column and the driver’s seat. Although, truth was, that was what others had told Trey. He’d remembered nothing after the initial hit.
Until he’d woken up to the lights of the trauma center in Syracuse.
He shrugged away from Macey’s touch. The weight of her hand, even the weight of his clothes, almost physically hurt. “The only worldly possession I had left was destroyed. I busted some ribs and broke my leg. Weird thing really, considering how fast Drew was running. But Drew...”
“He didn’t make it.”
Trey shook his head. “That’s the thing about hospitals. I can still smell it and see it and remember how it felt when my buddy came in and told me Drew was gone.” He spared her the details that no one had spared him. Nobody should have to live with that image. Although, it had been the one that had jolted him out of apathy and self-centeredness. “So every time I have to walk into one, it all comes back.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached her arm around his back and laid her head against his shoulder, likely trying to offer comfort. “I am. That’s awful.”
All her touch did was remind him that he was a man who needed to be very careful where he trod. She was slowly sneaking away parts of his heart, parts she could never have, whether she was innocent or not.
He cleared his throat, but although he knew he should pull away, he didn’t. Her comfort felt too warm, too right. “My former team leader was stationed a day’s drive away, but I looked up on my first day in a regular room and there he was. I have no idea who told him.”
Captain Gavin Harrison had pulled no punches and had called him out about throwing his life away, foolish behavior and how Trey was never going to find peace if he didn’t give his life over to God, who’d made him in the first place. The commander was that kind of guy. He laid things right out there like they ha
d to be.
“Because of him, I learned that Jesus sacrificed Himself on the cross for people like me. That I didn’t have to be perfect. In fact, I needed to know I wasn’t. And while people can totally rip you up and wreck your trust—and usually do—God’s not like that. He might not do things the way you’d like, but they always work out for the best in the end.”
Macey pulled away and shifted an inch or so down the couch. “So Jesus is how you went from that—” she waved her hand as if to gesture at something in the far-off distance “—to this.” With another flick of her wrist, she indicated him, the new guy sitting in front of her. Then she snapped her fingers. “Like that.”
“Not like that. It took time. It took healing.” Suddenly, the warmth and draw to Macey Price didn’t matter. Having her hear his story did. Having her understand what was missing in her life did. “It changed everything for me.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m fine, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Up went her walls. While he wanted to push, something deep inside urged him to let his story stand on its own. God would do the work that Trey couldn’t do.
He stood, reached for her hand and pulled her up to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. At first, she was stiff, but then her head tucked against his neck and she relaxed.
He’d never touched her before, not like this. They’d high-fived and done that side-hug thing, but this...
This was about to be his undoing.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulled away while saying his goodbyes and walked out the door to stand guard from a distance, praying he could protect her from the danger in the darkness.
* * *
I’ll be there in ten.
Macey stood in the center of the kitchen, phone in hand. Why had she asked Trey to drive her to work? She was a grown woman and had driven herself places since she was sixteen. Today should be no different. It wasn’t like she was injured to the point of incapacitation. While her side itched and ached in a way that definitely wouldn’t let her forget she was wounded anytime soon, she was perfectly capable of work and self-care. She was well versed in self-defense and—
But self-defense had been useless the day before.
Her pulse raced and her body broke into a sweat. That reaction had all of the markings of some real anxiety setting in. Anxiety that shouldn’t surprise her. She’d been a victim twice. The odds of that were so long, they were practically inconceivable. What was to stop a third person from coming at her with thievery or murder or worse on their mind?
But was she any safer with Trey? The man made her feel. Made her remember long-ago dreams of white dresses and shared mornings and all of the things she shouldn’t be dreaming about a man who would ultimately find someone better than she. He wasn’t even romantically interested anyway.
After all, he’d kissed her on the head last night. The same way a guy would kiss his sister. Or his puppy. Everything pointed to a guy who saw her as...well, one of the guys. She was in the friend zone.
Macey poised her finger over the screen to text him that she would be fine on her own, that he could go on about his normal life without worrying about her, but of its own volition, her thumbs typed out OK.
Really?
She was so not okay.
It was too late to call him off now, though. If she retracted her consent, he’d be at the door trying to make sure she was safe and not being held at gunpoint.
Her heart rate spiked again. The way things were going, gunpoint might not be that far out of the realm of possibility.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a bodyguard drive her to work after all.
Enough. This was ridiculous. She was starting to sound like her middle-school self crushing on Jared Riley. And look how that had ended. He’d called her out in front of their entire seventh-grade science class and had the whole room laughing at her.
She’d never been comfortable around a lab table again.
Stomping into her bedroom, Macey snatched her backpack off the floor and paid for it with a stab of pain from her side. Slow down, girl. You’ll hurt yourself for nothing.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, gathered up everything she’d need for work and let Kito inside, where he’d spend his morning curled up in a sunbeam until she dashed home at noon to set him free for a quick run in the backyard.
That meant Trey would have to bring her back. Macey stopped in the middle of the living room, her backpack dangling from her fingers. He’d have to run back and forth for her all day. Maybe she should drive herself, after all, and let him—
His knock on the front door nearly sent her out of her skin. That was proof she wasn’t in any condition to be driving.
She crossed the room and pulled the door open. “Hey, are you taking a lunch break today?” He frequently ran home from the post for lunch, claiming he’d rather spend money on gas than eat in the chow hall or the P/X food court.
Trey stepped back. “I was planning to. Why?”
For a second, Macey forgot why. The sight of him on her porch in his uniform jolted her all over again, as though she was seeing him for the first time and realizing that the God Trey believed in had done a mighty fine job of sculpting such a jawline.
She’d hoped whatever had flashed through her last night because of him would flash right on out again, but it seemed, instead, to have increased in intensity. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Her brain needed a decent night’s sleep. Maybe then it would give up on this sudden idea that Trey might be her trustworthy soul mate.
Macey glanced up to find him looking at her expectantly, as though he could read her mind, but then she remembered he was waiting for her to finish her thought. Macey shook her head to clear it as she stepped out onto the porch. “Can you let Kito out at lunchtime? You should still have my spare key from yesterday.” She set her backpack at her feet, then pulled her keys from her pocket and flipped to her house key, the everyday action grounding her into reality, at least for a second.
Trey picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder as Macey turned to lock the door. “Anything you need, Mace.”
Her hand froze with the key in the lock. Why did he have to say it like that? With his voice low, as though he knew her insides were more scrambled than the eggs she’d tried and failed to eat for breakfast.
Anything you need only lasted for so long.
But Trey said it like that because it wasn’t some flippant response. He’d meant it. He was that kind of guy. The kind who truly would do anything for anyone.
The kind of guy who would do anything for her. He’d shown such concern for her repeatedly over the past few days. But he’d do that for any friend, right? “Trey?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we friends?” That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. Clearly, they were friends. What she really wanted to know was Are we friends or something more?
Trey’s head tipped forward. He was standing so close behind her that the movement brought his cheek close to her ear. For several seconds, Macey’s breath stopped as he said nothing. He reached around her and laid his hand on hers where she still held the key in the lock, nearly embracing her.
If she turned her head slightly, so slightly, she might have her answer. But just as she decided to move, he seemed to shift into high gear, turning the key and lifting his head again.
He stepped around her and pulled the key from the lock, holding it out to her with a half grin on his face. “You know we are. Nobody else I know can quote me the NHL rule book during hockey games or make a mean homemade pizza. I think you’re a keeper.” He pressed his lips together tightly and shifted his gaze away from her. Then he turned and walked down the steps. “Let’s go. I don’t want you to be late because I’m distracted making up poetry about your pizza.”
Her pizza. Sure thing. Pocketing her house keys, she fol
lowed him to his truck and climbed inside, I think you’re a keeper running circles in her head and messing with her more than her own emotions ever had. The words didn’t mean a thing, and the weight of that truth crushed the air from her lungs to the point she couldn’t even speak for the entire fifteen-minute ride to her office.
For half a second on her porch, she’d thought he might feel the same way she was beginning to feel, that he might truly be the kind who stayed. She’d thought he might step in front of her and kiss her, tell her with his actions the words she wished he’d say. That she was more than a friend. That she was, in fact, a keeper.
Trey fidgeted the entire ride, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb, changing the channels on the radio and glancing at Macey, then back to the road when she caught his eye.
But he said nothing. It was almost as though he’d read her thoughts or picked up on her vibe and was embarrassed by her stupid emotions.
When he put the truck into Park in front of her office, all she wanted was to get out and away from him before she made an even bigger fool of herself. He’d clearly figured her out. She’d get Patricia or Anne to drive her home and shoot him a text later to say she didn’t need him anymore, somehow make him doubt that she was feeling crazy things. “Thanks for the ride.” She shoved the door open and forced herself not to run up the walkway to the front of the building.
It was her day to open. She pulled her keys from her pocket and aimed for the door.
“Macey!” His call was punctuated by the sound of his truck door slamming and his footsteps practically running up the sidewalk behind her.
Couldn’t he just leave?
He reached her before she could get the key into the lock. “You left your backpack in my truck.” He sounded strangely out of breath, as though the sidewalk was two miles long and he’d sprinted the whole way.
Oh great. Her backpack. Because she needed another way to look like an idiot today. Steeling herself for one more look into those eyes of his, she turned to face him.
