by A. J. Quinn
Althea stilled, regarding her without speaking for more than a minute with an unreadable expression on her face. Her curiosity piqued, Evan watched as her mother waded cautiously into the vast space between them—a space that harbored ghosts and seemed filled with more haunting echoes and detritus from the past than either knew how to deal with.
As she drew closer, Althea placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, and Evan could read the surprise on her mother’s face when she didn’t flinch or pull back from her touch. Feeling encouragement from Tate’s mobile fingers, she smiled wryly and consciously allowed the connection.
“You’ve changed.”
“Well, there’s a news flash,” Evan shot back. She tried to summon another tentative smile and hoped it would soften the sharpness of her words. “But it’s been some time since you and I last tried to talk, and it was bound to happen sooner or later, don’t you think?”
She said it softly, simply. As if it was the only truth she knew for certain in her currently tangled and upside-down life. Which of course it was. So much time had passed. So many things had changed. Including both of them.
Althea stood for a moment longer, gazing at Evan with a look that spoke of both pride and sadness, and Evan knew instinctively what she had to be thinking. Other than those few days in Chamonix, this was the longest conversation they’d managed to have since Althea had discovered her daughter had enlisted in the navy. She found herself holding her breath again, afraid at any moment something would happen to destroy the delicate accord.
“You should know I’ve done a lot of soul-searching,” Althea said, as she finally broke the silence. “Since Jim Stephens first called to tell me you’d been killed, but even more so since we were advised you were still alive and I saw you on that video.”
“Althea—” Evan started but couldn’t finish. Instead, she was left to hope the expression on her face relayed her discomfort with the direction the conversation was taking and her desire to have it end. She could see her mother was obviously torn between a desire to respect Evan’s unspoken wishes and whatever internal compulsion was driving her to speak. But it became equally apparent Althea wasn’t going to allow this moment to pass.
“Please, Evan, this needs to be said.”
Evan faltered, conceded. “Then say whatever it is you think you have to say.”
“I don’t expect you to understand what I said and how I reacted when you joined the navy. And I know we still need to get you home. I know you need time to heal and to reconnect with your life.”
Evan shifted uncomfortably and looked up to the clear blue sky as the headache she’d forgotten about started to pound. She wanted to speak, but finding no words, she sighed and turned back to her mother. She could feel Althea hesitate and heard her take a deep breath.
“I need to tell you—Evan, you need to know—I’m so very, very proud of you. Of what you did for your brother, of all you’ve accomplished on your own, and especially of the woman you’ve become.”
Evan was stunned. Humbled by her mother’s comments, she could feel the years peel back, leaving her exposed. As she absorbed the clearly heartfelt words, she felt tears pooling in her eyes and blinked to hold them back. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” Althea gently squeezed her tense shoulder and smiled as her own eyes welled up and spilled over. “You’ve been through so much already, and right now, you just need to concentrate on getting well. Everything else can wait. We’ve got time now, and I’m certain we can work it out.”
Chapter Eighteen
They were finally alone.
On a day that already resembled an emotional minefield, no one who looked at Evan could think her capable of handling much more. But maybe it also had something to do with the twin telepathy, because after some initial awkwardness when they returned to the room, Alex came to the rescue.
With his gaze fastened on Evan, her pain reflected clearly on his face, he suggested they get to work reestablishing Evan’s life. The Pentagon and State had already started the ball rolling on the high-level process, but there would be mounds of paperwork and granular details the four of them could start sifting through. And of course, Evan needed clothes.
More importantly, Evan needed room to breathe. And even if, at best, it was only a few hours, Tate would gladly take them.
She wasn’t by nature a patient woman, but experience had taught her the value of strategic silence. So Tate said nothing while Evan quietly gazed out the window, repeatedly clenching and relaxing her hands, dull incredulity still evident in her eyes.
A full twenty minutes passed before she spoke.
“I feel like I’ve been in hell.” She seemed a bit surprised at the notion. “I’m still trying to find my way back, but I’m not sure how.”
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
Evan momentarily looked as though she was having second thoughts about revealing too much. But then she shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to be operating at top speed. My biggest concern right now is putting one foot in front of the other and making it to that bed without falling on my ass again. If you could help with that and maybe…do you suppose they’ve got any aspirin around here?”
Tate choked back a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do about aspirin after we get you horizontal.”
Evan nodded, held her hand up, and let Tate pull her unsteadily to her feet. Tate tightened her grip and saved her from further damage. “Careful. There are already enough bruises on you.” She watched Evan’s eyes shift toward the bed as if measuring the distance. “Are you okay to continue?”
“I’m a bit dizzy.” Her face relaxed into amusement and something more. “I think you should hold me in your arms a little longer…just in case.”
Tate hid her surprise. “Brat,” she said, reaching out to grab Evan’s crutches and move them out of harm’s way. But as she settled Evan onto the bed, she couldn’t help but notice how pale her face was. Bending down, she gently cupped Evan’s cheek. “No offense, love, but you look like hell. Should I go find your doctor?”
The mere hint of another medical intervention quickly added some color to Evan’s face. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, and Tate fought back a smile. “I’ve overdone it is all. For some reason, everything I do seems to require a minute or two to catch my breath.”
“It’s to be expected, Evan,” Tate chided gently.
“I guess. Maybe. But this”—she turned her face and pressed a kiss into the palm of Tate’s hand—“I think I need more of this.”
Evan leaned her head back against the pillow, glancing around as if to confirm there really was no one else present before she turned back and looked at Tate. “Can we try this again?”
“Try what?”
“Hello, beautiful lady.”
Tate watched her in silence for the space of several slow breaths, felt her blood begin to stir, and shook her head helplessly. “Hey, yourself.”
She started to move toward the chair when she felt Evan reach for her, an eyebrow raised in invitation. Her hands were cool against Tate’s skin—the emotions they stirred, anything but. Tate felt something tighten inside her, and in spite of her better judgment she let herself be pulled to the bed.
“This isn’t very smart,” she said. “You’re in pain and need to rest.”
“Shh.” Evan touched a fingertip to her lips. Then, with her eyes still on Tate’s, she raised her head, bringing her mouth closer until it was a mere inch away.
What I need…what I want…is you.
The words hovered unspoken between them, and without another thought, Tate surrendered. She removed Evan’s finger from her lips, closed the final distance, and covered Evan’s mouth with her own.
As her mind emptied, she forgot where they were. Forgot about the hospital staff and the possibility of Evan’s parents returning. Forgot how to do everything but feel.
She felt Evan’s hands fist in her hair
, felt her lips open on a shuddering breath.
Swallowing Evan’s groan, she let the kiss play out, hot and greedy, imprinting Evan’s scent, taste, and texture into memory. Oh God, yes. More.
Only half-aware of the needy sounds coming from her throat, Tate lost track of time, conscious only of pervasive warmth wherever their bodies touched, of Evan’s heart beating strongly beneath her fingers. It was all so achingly familiar, and yet she couldn’t help but notice the familiarity seemed mixed somehow with a sense of newness.
*
With her eyes still closed, Tate rolled onto her side and stretched out on the narrow hospital bed, content to drift and catch her breath. She didn’t need to look at Evan. She was acutely aware of every breath Evan took, every beat of her heart, the scent of her skin, the warmth of her hand as it burned through the thin material of her T-shirt.
She felt the familiar rush. But she was keenly aware Evan was physically and emotionally spent. Inhaling deeply, she tried to calm her heart and clear her mind. “I should get up.”
“Mm-hm.”
But Evan seemed disinclined to release her. A moment later, she felt Evan run an index finger in a slow, sensual glide along the side of her jaw before she leaned in and inhaled, as if absorbing Tate’s fragrance.
“Awesome,” Evan said, nipping lightly at her bottom lip. “I knew it would be the perfect scent for you when I bought it.”
Tate stopped breathing. Need arose like a craving, a living, breathing thing, and she found herself wanting to lose herself in the reality of having Evan in her arms. Solid, real, flesh and blood. Alive.
“Oh God, Evan, I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, the words pulled from her. “Over the past few days, sometimes I catch myself looking at you and I can’t believe you’re really back in my life. It feels so much like a dream.”
Tate’s words hit her like a blow, the pain sharp and instantaneous.
Evan froze. Her entire body became numb and so cold she feared she’d never feel warm again. Unable to look at Tate, afraid of what she might see in her eyes, she rolled away, struggling to sit up.
“Evan? What is it? What’s wrong?”
For a fleeting moment she couldn’t answer. She bit her lip and in the silence heard her own breathing, rapid and uneven. Thrusting a surprisingly steady hand through her hair, she pushed aside the dark strands obscuring her vision before finally looking back at Tate.
“Shit,” she managed to say. “I’m so damned sorry. I’ve been completely self-absorbed, feeling sorry for myself. And I haven’t stopped to think about what you must have gone through, or how you must have felt.”
“It’s all right—”
“No, damn it, it’s not. I should have stopped to think what all of this did to you, but I didn’t. I hate that you were hurt. Christ, I haven’t even asked how you found out.”
“Jillian.” Tate stopped for an instant, swallowed, and her eyes grew distant. “She knew I was waiting for you.”
She broke off, and Evan could see she was determined not to expose the extent of her pain. But her face was heartbreakingly expressive. Wordlessly, Evan waited, encouraging her with a silent entreaty. She could feel the emotions swirling between them but allowed the silence to stretch.
Finally she was rewarded as Tate began to talk, quietly explaining what had happened that fateful February day and in the days and weeks that followed. And though she knew Tate tried hard not to let it show, she could hear the residual hurt in the calmly spoken words and wished she could undo the pain. Pain Evan knew she had caused.
Focused as she was on what Tate was saying, Evan was caught off guard when an onslaught of breath-stealing memories suddenly pushed her present reality aside and began running like an unending video loop in her head. She tried to still her mind. Could still see Tate’s lips moving. But for a moment she couldn’t hear her words over the roaring in her ears as memories flashed in her mind.
It probably only lasted seconds. Or at least that was what Evan hoped as her mind cleared and her focus returned to the present. Back to Tate who had paused, tilted her head, and was studying her gravely.
“I’m sorry.” Emotion had her voice wavering, a ragged whisper that was barely audible. She hesitated, knew she was on the verge of hyperventilating, and wondered what she could say to make things right. “I never meant—”
“No, don’t.” Tate pressed her fingers momentarily against Evan’s lips to stop her. “Nothing that happened was your fault. But you know all those lines about time healing wounds?”
Evan nodded.
“They’re just that. They’re lines. Because the truth is, missing you never got easier. It would have been easier for me to quit breathing.”
Evan felt a tremor run through her. “It was like that for me too. I missed you. So damned much, I was positive I’d created you out of a fevered dream when I saw you in that godforsaken settlement.” She stopped, needing time, but only closed her eyes briefly before continuing. “And though I was certainly happy to see you, Althea should have never asked you to go. She put you unnecessarily at risk. Jesus, Tate, you barely got out alive the last time you were in Afghanistan, and it was too dangerous for anyone to ask you to go back—no matter the reason.”
“Evan,” Tate responded with quiet certainty, “the truth is Althea didn’t have to ask. Because once I knew you were still alive, all I cared about was finding you and getting you out. Bringing you home. Nothing else mattered, and no one could have stopped me from going there. You have to know after months of believing you were dead—after four months when I couldn’t breathe without it hurting—I would have gone to hell and back if it meant bringing you out alive.”
They looked at each other somberly before Tate continued in a quiet voice. “I also want to be perfectly clear about one more thing. When I saw that bastard hitting you, I could have killed him and would’ve had no trouble sleeping afterward. But I was there to get you out safely. It was all that mattered.”
Evan grabbed hold of the certainty in Tate’s voice and tried to quell the turmoil she was feeling. She discovered it helped. Raising an eyebrow, she stared at Tate for a long heartfelt moment before she licked her lips and let out a slow breath. “Okay,” she said. “So you’re telling me Althea actually did right by me. Go figure.”
*
Kelsey dropped by later to check on her. She greeted Tate, then turned to Evan and asked, “How’s the wrist?” Evan thought she was trying not to grin.
Evan shrugged and plucked at the brace. “It’s good. Does that mean I can go home?”
Kelsey regarded her intently. “I know you’re anxious, but it really depends on several things.”
“Like what?” At Kelsey’s pause, Evan added, “You can speak freely in front of Tate.”
“Mostly what I see when I get your last test results back.” Kelsey glanced at her chart, wrote something down before studying Evan more closely once again. “But you’re also going to need someone to help you while you recover, and as I recall, you said you’re not planning to go home to your parents. Do you have anyone who can help look after you?”
Evan almost said Tate but remembered in time it was a conversation they still needed to have. Restless and uncertain, she stared past the doctor’s shoulder and remained silent.
“I can provide whatever help Evan will need since she’ll be staying with me,” Tate said quietly. “It’s what we were planning had she come home in February, although back then she would’ve been coming to stay with me in Bahrain. But I should think Puget Sound would be more conducive to rest and recuperation, and Alex and Nick are nearby and can help.”
Evan turned and looked at Tate, forgetting for the moment that Kelsey was still in the room. “I guess that’s something we haven’t gotten around to talking about. You’re not in Bahrain anymore?”
Tate shook her head.
“Can I ask why?”
“Bahrain got to be too much, well, too much Bahrain. It was hard enough to keep go
ing after what happened in that convoy with the IED. But after you were shot down…after the funeral, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t chase any more stories.”
Evan’s earlier headache returned and she released a small sigh. “And you’re living on the island near Alex and Nick?”
“About a mile down the road,” Alex informed her as he and Nick returned. Pulling up one of the arm chairs, he moved it closer to the bed. “If you’re talking about where Tate lives, does that mean they’re letting you out of here?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“We just need to be certain everything’s healing as it should,” Kelsey cautioned as she paused by the door. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I get the results of your blood work back. In the meantime, try and get some rest.”
Evan grinned faintly and watched the doctor leave the room. “I think she really just wants to be sure I’m a little steadier on the crutches, so I don’t keep ending up in the ER.”
“Well, going home can’t happen soon enough,” Alex said. “And you’re going to love Tate’s house. In fact, I think you’ll find it to be everything you hoped it would be.”
Something in Alex’s voice had Evan’s eyes narrowing until they were mere slits. But in that moment, somehow the confusion began to clear and she turned to Tate. “Damn,” she said, but it was without rancor. “You bought the property on the point, didn’t you? The house with the huge deck built out over the water.”
Tate gave an uncertain nod.
When Tate remained silent, Nick stepped in. “After the funeral, Alex and I thought you’d want us to look after Tate, so we brought her to stay with us.”
Evan felt her eyes burn as her emotions drew perilously close to the surface. “You were right. Thank you.”
