Hero of My Heart (The McRae Series, Book 5 - Will)

by Teresa Hill

  That seemed to help a little. He didn't look quite so uncomfortable or worried.

  But saying the words—what she knew he wanted to hear—felt so wrong.

  How could she let him leave?

  How could she keep him from leaving?

  Would he still think about her? Would he miss her? Or would he just go on with his life? The travel, the challenge, the danger?

  There had to be women, she knew. Maybe not at the moment, although she hadn't asked. But a man didn't look like he did, do the job he did, without having women fall all over him.

  For a moment, she felt insanely jealous.

  And here she was, some pathetic, scared, broken woman, afraid of the dark, of going to sleep, of remembering and of not knowing.

  Of sex.

  She wanted to be close to only one man right now—Will. She wanted him to hold her, maybe let her sleep in his arms. Sleep was often like torture to her, but with him, she thought she wouldn't be afraid of the dark or to sleep.

  She might want to kiss him. That might be okay.

  But she didn't want to have sex with him or anyone.

  She was scared of that.

  And one more thing, a big thing. She was scared he felt sorry for her, so sorry for her that he did things for her, like being her friend. She'd hate that.

  But she wanted time with him, whatever he'd give her, if she could have that without making him worry she was getting too attached to him.

  She sighed, a long shudder going through her body.

  He moved closer, holding her loosely. "Hey, you okay?"

  "Just thinking too much and tired of my own thoughts. I should go," she said. If she stayed any longer, there was no telling what she might say. "I'm sure you have things to do—"

  "Amanda, it's okay. You can stay. I never should have said—"

  "What you said? You meant it. I get it. I could easily latch onto you and..." Never let go. Never. Maybe he was right. Life was crazy, and he'd dragged her out of a nightmare. Whether he wanted to hear it or not, he was her hero. Maybe that meant she didn't know how she felt, couldn't trust her own feelings. "I understand, Will. I do."

  "Please, don't go like this."

  "I'm fine. Or I will be. Everyone says so, and... I'm going to go."

  She practically ran out. He followed her, all the way outside and to her car, still trying to get her to stay.

  "Don't follow me home," she said. "It's not dark. I'm fine."

  "Amanda, please don't go. Not like this."

  But she did, tears falling down her cheeks as she drove away.

  * * *

  Will watched her go, fighting the urge to get in his car and follow her, convinced he had blown that conversation all to hell and hurt her and made her cry.

  Fuck.

  He couldn't win with her. There was no way to win. He wanted her here, wanted to be close to her, and yet he had to push her away, because it would be easier for her in the end, when he did go.

  Still, it made him furious. He wanted to forget everything he'd just said to her and go to her, hold her, let her depend on him any way she wanted, for as long as she wanted.

  He could do that for her, and for damned sure, it looked like she needed someone right now.

  It could be him.

  For now.

  Why not? He wanted it to be him.

  "Fuck," he said, watching her drive away.

  Chapter 11

  Will was driving by Sam and Rachel's house a few days later and saw Emma's car in the driveway.

  Not giving himself time to think about it, he pulled into the driveway and got out. He went to the back door, because that's the way family came in, but he knocked first. If the door was unlocked, he walked on in.

  It had been a bone of contention for years. He'd somehow offended them by refusing their request that he walk into their house without knocking first, and he truly did not want to offend. He didn't understand the big deal about not knocking, and he thought they were nuts for not locking their doors all the damned time. Granted, that might be because of his job. He was used to knocking down doors, not finding them unlocked and walking in.

  That day, before he had to just walk in, Emma opened the door. She must have been close.

  "Will, come on in." She did not look particularly happy to see him. "Rachel's upstairs. She'll be down in a minute. Sam's not home yet. He went to pick up Grace and Luc from the airport, but their plane is late."

  "That's okay," he said, coming inside to the big, warm, open kitchen Sam had built for Rachel. "I came to see you."

  Emma shot him a hard look. "Will—"

  "I'm telling her things. A few things about what happened over there. You should know that."

  "You're assuming she wouldn't tell me herself?"

  "I wanted to make sure."

  "Okay, you have. Now go away," Emma said. "I can't talk to you about this. You know that."

  "I do. I'm sorry. She just... keeps getting me to talk about it."

  "Twists your arm, does she?"

  No, she just looked at him with those pretty, blue-green eyes, and she smiled, while he stared at the freckles on her nose and her cheeks. She looked so damned adorable and young, and he wanted to do anything for her, anything in the world.

  "Come on, Em. Don't let me screw this up. That's all I'm asking. Tell me what to do."

  "Will, contrary to what you seem to think, I don't magically have all the answers to fix all the problems my patients have. I listen to them. I watch them. I rely on the experience and education I have, and I make my best assessment of what they need."

  "That's it?"

  "That's it," she said.

  "Listen to her? Watch her?" Was she kidding him?

  "That's the best advice I can give you," Emma insisted.

  "Do you think it's helping her to hear these things?"

  "I don't know."

  He bit back a growl and a string of curses. Then, he threw out his next problem. "I'm afraid she's getting too... attached to me."

  Emma nodded. "Well, we both know that's not a surprise, given the experience you shared."

  "Yeah, I know. But I won't be here for long—"

  "Of course not. Did you tell her that?"

  "Yes."

  "And maybe how emotionally unavailable you are by nature?"

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "You know exactly what that means. We've known each other way too long, and our backgrounds are way too similar for you to even try to pretend with me."

  Okay, she was right. On both counts. Emma's childhood had been almost as chaotic as his, he suspected, until she was not quite twelve and came to live with Sam and Rachel. He knew that, had always wondered how she'd managed to put it all behind her and have the life she did, with a husband she trusted and loved and four children.

  How did she trust anyone enough to let him get that close? And to bring four children into this crazy, fucked-up world? Knowing the kind of things that could happen to them?

  That was the kind of courage Will would never have.

  He thought about asking her how she did it, if all the old fears were still there.

  Like poison, Amanda had said.

  He got that. Feelings like poison. Memories like that. Locked away somewhere inside, always there, always threatening to get out.

  Just how good was the seal on all that crap from his childhood? He'd wondered about that, too, and he didn't want to find out. He was fine. He had an all-consuming job he loved and friends in the teams who trusted him and judged him based on nothing but his ability to do the job.

  What the hell more could he want?

  He looked at Emma, thought about what she had, the way she was so intertwined with Sam and Rachel, her husband, her siblings, her kids, this community.

  "Are you happy?" he asked, the words just slipping out because he wasn't being as careful as he should.

  "Yes." She looked pleased at the question. "Are you?"

  "More t
han I ever expected to be," he admitted. "Aren't you scared like... all the damned time?"

  "I have a teenage daughter who I swear can look five years older than she is without even trying. Of course, I'm scared."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know." She looked frustrated with him, but kept talking. "Yes, I'm happy, Will. Yes, it wasn't easy to get over the idea that I couldn't ever depend on anybody or trust anybody. It was years before I trusted Sam and Rachel to take care of Zach and Grace, and they were Sam and Rachel, solid and deep-down good as could be."

  Yeah, she understood.

  But how had she gotten to where she could trust them like that?

  "I trust Sam and Rachel as much as I trust anybody."

  "I know, Will."

  She said it like that was an incredibly sad thing, like she felt sorry for him. Shit, Em.

  "I trust you, too."

  "Then try listening to me about this. Let go a little bit. Let somebody in."

  "Not Amanda," he said.

  He'd be crazy to let her in.

  Emma sighed. "Okay, maybe not the smartest place to start, but here you are. We don't always get to pick the person we open up to. Sometimes, they just show up, right place, right time—"

  "This is so not the right time."

  "For you? Will, it's way past time. For her? I don't know. She's got a stubborn streak. It's going to help her get through this."

  Will ignored the thing about him and the timing. He wanted to know about Amanda. "She is going to get through this, right?"

  "If you and I and her father have anything to do with it, she will."

  "See, that's the thing. It's like... she needs me, and I want to help her. But—"

  "But, what? I know you'll be careful with her. I'm not worried about that. And if something happens, if she gets you to say too much, something that really upsets her, I'll be here. All you have to do is call me."

  "Yeah, but—"

  "What's the problem, Will?"

  "I am not the guy you want to depend on. If you're being held hostage in a foreign country, yeah, I'm the guy. But back here, ordinary life, day after day, that's not me."

  "Well, maybe it's time you figured out how to be that guy."

  That made him so mad he could hardly speak. "That's it? Figure it out?"

  "Yeah—"

  "Like it's that easy? Just figure it out?"

  "Yes. It's not like you can't. I just don't think you've ever wanted to before. That's why you're so freaked out right now. You've found a woman who makes you want to figure it out."

  "No, that is not it—"

  "That's exactly it," Emma insisted.

  "She's not the kind of woman you figure it out with." He for damned sure knew that. "She's the kind who deserves a guy who already knows how to do it, who's great at it, who'll be great at taking care of her and giving her everything she needs."

  "Well, I don't see a guy like that here with her. Do you?"

  Fuck, no, he didn't.

  Where the hell was the guy? What the hell was he doing, that he wasn't here with Amanda, taking care of her?

  "Wait a minute. Was there some friggin' douchebag who walked away from her when this happened?" He practically roared the words. He'd hunt the guy down and tear him limb from limb for abandoning her now.

  Emma laughed. "I don't know. I wasn't trying to tell you that. I was saying I don't see some perfect man here taking care of her. I just see you."

  "She deserves a helluva lot better than me."

  "Give her some time. I'm sure she'll find another guy."

  God, that was even worse, thinking of her finding the perfect guy.

  "Or," Emma said, "maybe, miracles will happen. You'll wake up. Become that guy."

  "I can't be that guy." He had no illusions about himself.

  "Fine. If you're sure about that, you should tell her."

  "That assumes a helluva lot, don't you think? I just walk up to her and say, 'I think you're hung up on me because I managed to get you out of Buhkai, and you should know, you really don't want to do that.' That's what you want me to say?"

  "Are you really that bad with women—"

  "Women like her—"

  "You can't be. Women all over town are happy to see you come back, even if it is only once every two or three years—"

  "I don't go near women like her."

  "Fine. Give her your little talk. I'm sure you have all the lines down. It's not you. It's me. I don't do long-term. It's just the way I am. Whatever."

  "It's the truth," Will said.

  Emma nodded. "Practically chiseled in stone, right into your heart, I bet."

  Will was furious. "You're enjoying this."

  "I am. It gives me hope, and that is something I need." She grabbed him and gave him a quick hug. "Will, we're not those lost, scared kids who showed up at this house all those years ago needing Sam and Rachel to try to save us—"

  "I know that, dammit."

  "That was a lifetime ago. Let it go. Live your life. Be happy."

  "I'm not... unhappy," he said.

  "Okay. I guess that's progress. But don't you want something more?"

  Yeah, he wanted Amanda.

  And it wasn't going to happen.

  Which was why he was so fucking mad.

  "You do want more. It's about time! Just keep thinking about that, about what you want and what you can do to get it."

  "I can't have her, Emma."

  "Of course, you can. That's why you're so freaked out. If it was impossible, you'd have nothing to be scared about."

  "There've got to be hundreds of guys who are better for her than I could ever be. Thousands."

  "Then let her go find one of them, Will."

  * * *

  Will couldn't stop thinking that some guy in Amanda's life had abandoned her after she was taken hostage and raped in Buhkai.

  What kind of piece of shit did that?

  It was making Will crazy, so much so that at nine o'clock that night he stood on the doorstep of her father's house, ringing the doorbell, ready to face her father once again and be told politely to go away. Or maybe not so politely this time.

  Instead, she answered the door. Oh, hell. Wearing some little workout outfit. Yoga pants, clinging to every curve of her long legs, and a little spaghetti-strap top, soft cotton that fit like a second skin, showing off bare arms, bare neck and a good bit of her chest. Bare feet, too. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a hair thing. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright.

  She looked better every time he saw her, happier, more normal, and he was an ass for wanting a woman who'd so recently been sexually assaulted. So he did the best he could to hide that from her, but damn, it was hard.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Hi."

  "Is something wrong?" she asked.

  "No," he said. It had been ridiculous to come here, but it was too late. He couldn't turn around and leave now. "I just needed to talk to you. Bad time?"

  "No, I was just doing some yoga. Emma says it's good for me to move, and yoga helps quiet my head. Come in."

  He did, and followed her through the foyer and into the kitchen. "I'm going to grab some water. Would you like something?"

  "No, I'm fine." He waited while she filled a glass with ice and water.

  Then he got worried she might stand there in front of him and drink it, and he'd have to watch the play of muscles in her slender arm, watch her jaw, her throat as the water slid down... He couldn't do that.

  He made himself look away. "I'm going to ask you something that is absolutely none of my business, so if you don't want to answer—"

  "Okay," she agreed helpfully, and yes, she was drinking her water.

  "Were you seeing someone when you were in Buhkai?"

  "No."

  "How is that possible?" he asked.

  "Well, it's not exactly the dating capitol of the world for an American woman."

  "No. I mean before you went to Buhkai
. You were seeing someone, weren't you?"

  "Yes. An architect who lived in Boston."

  Of course, she was. Beautiful, tanned, leggy blondes had boyfriends like that, architects from Boston. "What happened?"

  "He thought it was unreasonable of me to go to a place like Buhkai to teach."

  Will got that. It was a shithole of a country, especially for women, plus dangerous as hell. Granted, not as much of a mess when she first went there as when he pulled her out, but still...

  "You broke up with him because he thought it was too dangerous for you to go to Buhkai?"

  "No. I mean, he did think that, but mostly, I believe, he thought it was naive of me, idealistic, even silly to want to teach children in Africa, as if anything like that could make a real difference in the world."

  "What an asshole."

  "I thought so, too. So I broke up with him and went to Buhkai."

  "How did you end up with a guy like that, Amanda?"

  "He thought it was fine for me to be idealistic until I actually wanted to take a year of my life and work in a place like Buhkai, at which point my idealism wasn't interesting or sweet or cute anymore. It was annoying and interfered with the way he thought his life should be."

  "Like I said, an asshole."

  She nodded. "Is there a reason for this sudden interest in my love life?"

  "None of my business, I know—"

  "And I said it's okay. What do you want to know?"

  He wanted to know if she'd been heartbroken. If that bastard had hurt her. If she missed him and wanted him back. "Tough breakup?"

  "I don't know. I think I was more infatuated with him than anything else. His younger sister and I went to boarding school together in Switzerland, while her father was the head of a bank in Brussels. I spent a few holidays with their family, when my father was in a place that was too dangerous for me to spend holidays with him. Brad was five years older, which made him seem incredibly mature to me when I was sixteen or seventeen. I ran into him again in Boston, when I was in grad school, and we started dating. It was fine as long as I went along with what he wanted."