by Teresa Hill
"Okay, I need you to tell me your name." His voice demanded an answer.
"Amanda," she said.
"What year is it, Amanda?"
Year? Did she know?
"How about the month? Do you know that?"
"January, but it's hot."
"That's right. It's hot."
"What's your father's name?"
"James Warren."
"Good. That's good."
"My father. I want my father." So much.
"I know. He sent me to find you. I'm going to take you to him."
"Promise?" She reached out and found a hand, his hand, and held on tight.
"Promise," he said.
Then, everything was gone. She slipped beneath the surface again.
* * *
Baxter, Ohio
Amanda heard a week later that Will was leaving town, his medical leave up, and he hadn't said a word to her, when he'd promised he would. She was mad, which was much better than being scared, so she went with the feeling. She drove to the shelter early one evening and punched the doorbell.
Emma answered the door.
"What are you doing here?" Amanda asked.
"I volunteer here a few hours every week. What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
Amanda nodded. "I heard Will was leaving. Did you know?" She hoped Emma hadn't kept that from her.
"I just heard myself, when I got here tonight. No one here wants to see him go. The women, the kids, they all feel safe with him here."
So, it wasn't just Amanda.
Will made all women and children feel safe.
"Where is he?" Amanda asked.
"He was out back digging a ditch around the back yard. We were getting standing water when it rains, where the kids play, and they were always a mess. He was trying to fix it. If he's not still there, he's probably upstairs. He's staying in the director's studio apartment above the garage. There's a door in the kitchen that leads to the stairs."
"Thank you." Amanda hesitated. "Are you going to be here?"
"For another hour, at least. Come and get me if you need me."
"Thank you. If he's leaving and not coming back..." God, she hated that so much she could hardly stand it. "He has to tell me everything. There's not even that much left for him to tell. A helicopter came and took us out of the country. How hard can that be to hear?"
Emma shook her head. "I don't know."
"But there's something there, something he's scared to tell me."
"I know."
"Do you know what it is?"
"No."
"Well, I think you should know, at least. How about that? We'll make him tell you what he's holding back, and if you think I'm ready, he can tell me."
"And if I say I don't think you're ready, your imagination is going to be coming up with every horrible thing you can think of that might have happened to you."
"Okay, but it's still what happened, and it happened to me. I have a right to know, and he's leaving, Emma."
"Then go talk to Will. If he's willing, I'll listen to what he has to say."
"Thank you, so much," she said, scared all over again, dammit.
He wasn't in the back yard, so she charged upstairs and banged on his door. He didn't open it right away, which made her even more frustrated. Did the man think he could hide from her?
Finally, he hurled it open, looking like a man ready to surge out and slay dragons if necessary.
Then he saw her.
He backed up a step, because he'd been halfway through the doorway the second he got it open. She'd caught him fresh from the shower, and his hair was still wet, and a little messy from him toweling it off. For the first time, he wasn't wearing his eye patch.
He also hadn't zipped his jeans all the way up or snapped them closed. His chest was bare, as were his feet.
"Is this something I need a gun to handle?" he asked.
He held up a small metal box with a digital keypad on the side.
Gun safe?
"I hope not. It's just me," she said.
"Jesus, Amanda. Don't scare me like that. I thought somebody's husband or boyfriend had broken in downstairs."
"Sorry," she said as he put the box away, high on a shelf in his apartment's tiny kitchen. "I was just mad."
"This is you mad?"
She nodded as she watched him zip up his jeans, couldn't help herself, his hands on his own body oddly fascinating to her, as was that thin line of hair leading from his belly button down into the jeans he was fastening.
She could see entirely too much of him. He didn't have one of those bulging bodies that spoke of hours in the gym. He was too lean for that. Yet he was perfectly muscled, with all those pretty lines in his abdomen, the dips and swells that blended together to make the man.
"Mad at me?" he guessed.
"Yes," she said, trying to tear her gaze away from his body and remember why she was there. It wasn't easy. She wanted to stand there and stare at him, but she knew she shouldn't. "You were going to leave town without telling me?"
"No." He turned and disappeared behind a corner of his big, open, L-shaped room. She could see a small sitting area and the end of a bed.
"But you are leaving?" She hated the idea. Where would he be and what would he be doing? Be safe, Will. But the job description probably meant not playing it safe.
"The gossip system in this town is incredibly efficient," he said, coming back around the corner with a T-shirt in hand. He pulled it over his head and into place. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It always has been. I had a scan of my eye in Cincinnati two days ago, and I heard just yesterday that it's better. I guess you didn't get that part of the story."
"No."
"I'm going back to see the doctor in Virginia Beach who's been treating me and hope he clears me for duty, but I wasn't going to leave town without saying something to you, Amanda."
She let herself watch his chest rise and fall with his breath, beneath the plain, thin, white T-shirt he was wearing. It hugged all the muscles on his arms, his shoulders, his chest. And he smelled so good. All warm, clean skin with a little hint of spice. He had a perfect layer of stubble on his face that she wanted to touch.
She looked back at his face, too late, and saw that he'd caught her staring.
It was clearer than ever that Will Gerard could make her feel more than fear, than numbness, than safe. He could make her feel like a woman who might, someday, be interested in a man. Sexually.
It was stronger than a fleeting hint this time, and that felt so good. It made her hopeful. There was life after the fear.
"Sorry," she said, thinking he was freaked out by her interest. "I guess I'm not dead after all. But don't worry. It was just a thought."
At first, he'd just stared, and she'd thought she could read his thoughts on his face. He was so uncomfortable, he couldn't even seem to speak.
"Marine Guards, remember? You agreed. You're off-limits for anything... real. But I'm allowed to have a thought, right? Like maybe... you smell really good."
"I... sure. I mean..."
She laughed. "I know. I'm surprised, too. But it felt good, and I don't have a lot of thoughts that feel good to me lately. So, thank you, Will, for that moment. It gives me hope that I'll feel like a normal woman again one day."
He still looked uneasy.
"You can't be shocked to have a woman find you attractive. I'm sure it's happened before." And then, she had another thought, a hard, hurtful one. "Unless... is it that I was raped?"
"What?"
"Some men freak out. They can't handle it, that a woman was raped. There's that whole damaged goods thing—"
"Well, some men are idiots, and I try not to be one of them. I was just surprised. That's all. And I wasn't sure what to do. Am I allowed to feel that way?"
"You can feel whatever you want," she said.
"And the damaged goods thing? I find that offensive—"
"So do I—"
"—if you think
I could ever feel that way. I don't deserve that, Amanda. I know what you went through. I know it was awful, and I know that none of it was your fault. Jesus, you know that, don't you? We talked about it. That it was not your fault?"
"Mostly. I just think I shouldn't have been so stubborn, so naïve. I should have left when my father told me to. He begged me to, Will."
"Yes, but you didn't know what was going to happen. And if you hadn't been there, what would have happened to those kids? Have you thought about that?"
"Yes. I've thought about whether it was some kind of cosmic bargain. If there's any way they could have been safe if I hadn't been there, so I'd never have to feel the way I do now. And then I feel like a horrible person, thinking little children's lives aren't as important as me not being raped."
She started to cry then. Dammit.
She wanted to be so strong for him.
He stared at her for a long moment, looking as frustrated and lost as she felt. "Jesus, how did we get here?"
"With me thinking you smell really good. Will, no one treats me like a normal person anymore, and especially not a normal woman. It would be nice if you treated me like an ordinary woman. Could you do that, please?"
Chapter 14
Will knew what she was asking, what she needed, and he knew why. He knew he should make this simple and tell her what she wanted to hear, but he didn't think he could bring himself to lie. Even a nice little white lie.
And he was a man who lied often and very well for a living.
He knew she was angry and hurt. He hated that, but she was killing him and making him crazy.
"No, I can't," he began.
Immediately, she jumped to the wrong conclusion and backed away, ready to leave. He'd hurt her again. "Amanda."
She gave him what must be her best don't-mess-with-me look. It included her chin coming up, a tilt of her head to the side, her freckles standing out more than usual on her cheeks, her glaring at him. He wanted to laugh, because the woman just couldn't pull it off. She was too adorable, and at times seemed ridiculously young to him.
He had a birthday coming up. He'd be thirty-nine. It sounded ancient, especially since he'd met her.
She seemed so small and sweet. She taught kindergarten, for God's sake. Women who taught five-year-olds were not tough.
Except when it came to protecting their students, of course.
He admired her so damned much, sweet, beautiful, vulnerable Amanda who seemed to really need him.
"You are not ordinary in any way," he said. "And I cannot treat you like you are."
She still glared up at him. "You know what I meant."
"Yes, I do. And it's not a question that I can answer with a yes or a no. We'd have to have a conversation. Will you give me time for that, please?"
"You don't have to do that—"
"I want to. I want to explain... Shit, okay, I don't want to, but I don't want you thinking what you're thinking, either. Because it's not true. So if those are my options, I want to try to explain."
"You don't have to. I have no right to barge in here and start a fight with you."
"We're supposed to be friends, Amanda. Have a seat," he said. "Want some coffee?"
It took a long moment, but finally, she said, "Okay. Do you have decaf? It's late for me to drink anything else."
"There's some downstairs, but not up here. I don't believe in it."
"How do you sleep?" she asked.
"I sleep fine, anywhere, anytime. In my job, you have to sleep whenever and wherever you can."
"That would be a nice trick to learn."
He looked at the dark circles under her eyes, the lines on her face. Some combination of tension and fatigue, he'd bet. She somehow managed to look stubborn as hell and fragile at the same time.
She sat on the sofa. He pulled out a chair from the two-seater table in the kitchen and sat across from her, wondering how the hell he was going to leave her.
"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," she began.
"Amanda—"
"I did. I know it."
"Okay, I was uncomfortable."
"If I was any other woman who'd said something like that to you—that you smelled good—what would you have said?"
He shrugged. "If I thought you were attractive—which I've already told you that I do—I'd probably have gotten a little closer, maybe got my face in your hair, maybe up against your neck, and told you that you smelled good, too."
"Okay. There we go. You'd have flirted, but not with me."
"I don't know if you're ready for anything like that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I sure as hell don't want to scare you. I hate what happened to you, Amanda. It makes me furious. And it makes me want to be very careful with you, and I want everybody else to be careful with you, too. At least, right now. I didn't think that made me a bad person. I thought it made me a nice guy."
"I'm sure you are trying to be a nice guy," she said. "It's just that everyone tries to be so careful. I get tired of all the weirdness."
He sighed. "I can understand that. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I overreacted. I'm mad because you're leaving, even if I have no right to feel that way. You told me you'd go." She looked so sad and lost. "How long until you leave?"
"Two or three days. As soon as I make sure the work at the shelter's covered and I can get a seat on a plane."'
"For how long?"
"No idea. The Special Ops guys have been going pretty much non-stop since 9/11. I don't see that changing anytime soon. We've been trying to wind things down in the Middle East. Africa's heating up. Now Syria's a mess. Who knows where I'll end up?"
"So, you get back here..."
"Once a year, maybe once every two years. Are you going to stay here?"
She nodded. "I can't imagine being without my father right now. Or Emma."
"Good. I want you to have them, to feel safe and taken care of."
"I'm thinking about volunteering here at the shelter. Emma says these kids move around a lot and their lives are so chaotic that they're often behind in school. I could help them catch up. Plus, some of the moms are working on their GEDs or taking community college classes. I could help them, too. I'd be teaching, but I wouldn't have to walk into a classroom or a school."
So, she'd be here, at the shelter, and he wouldn't be around to make sure she was safe here, or that the kids were, or their mothers. One man had already found the place and broken in. Will had done what he could while he was here, but the problem was the location. After the break-in, it was too well-known in the community, and that made him uncomfortable, especially with Amanda here.
He'd talk to Sam. Sam would do whatever he could. So would Amanda's father. She had damned well better be safe here.
"So, now that you're going, and you don't have any idea when you'll be back... I know there's something you're afraid to tell me about what happened in Buhkai—"
"Amanda—"
"Wait, let me get this out. Emma's right downstairs. She and I talked about this and came up with an idea. Tell her whatever it is that you haven't told me, and if she thinks I'm ready to hear it, you can tell me before you leave. If she doesn't think I should hear it yet, I won't push you to tell me anymore. She will, when she thinks I'm ready. How does that sound?"
So much better then having to tell Amanda himself. "Okay. Deal."
"You look so relieved," she said. "Is it really that bad? What you have to tell me?"
"No. I don't know. I don't know what you know, what anyone told you. There's one part that... I think you might be uncomfortable."
"You saw me naked and bruised and—"
"No. Nothing like that." He was making this worse by being reluctant to talk about it, scaring her, he saw now, when he'd been trying to be so careful with her. "Nothing else really bad happened, Amanda. It's not something that happened that you don't know about. But I'll do what you want. I'll tell Emma, and from there, it's up to the two of you."
"O
kay. Thank you. I'm sorry. This is so not how I wanted this to go."
"Forget about it. It doesn't matter."
"You're always so nice to me. I think I should go before I do anything else I'll regret. You have a couple of days, so if Emma thinks I'm up to hearing everything, I'll come back tomorrow. I don't think I can do any more big conversations today, all right?"
"Sure. Come on. I'll walk you out to your car, and then I'll talk to Emma."
"You don't have to walk me out," she said. "It's not dark."
"It's almost dark, and I walk every woman out who leaves after dark, so I am not treating you differently than any other woman here."
He followed Amanda to her car and opened her door. Another second or two, and she'd have been inside and on her way, but she looked so sad, so tired, he couldn't let her leave like that.
She moved to slip past him and into the car, but he blocked her path, found her hands, which were hanging loosely at her side, and took both of them in his. He waited until she looked up at him, and then very slowly leaned his head down to hers until the tip of his nose brushed along her temple at her hairline.
He knew he shouldn't have done it, but he drew in a breath of her as her hands tightened around his. He could feel the warmth of her body, even though he was careful not to touch her in any other way except with his hands in hers and his nose against the side of her face. She smelled so soft and sweet.
He'd let himself get too close, and he couldn't even say he was sorry. Not yet.
Will took his time about raising his head, kept his hold on her hands, and once she looked up at him, told her, "You smell really good, too."
She smiled up at him.
He squeezed her hands, then let them go, and stepped aside so she could get in the car.
"Goodnight, Will."
"Night."
* * *
Will didn't want to, but he went back inside to find Emma. She was just inside the front door, waiting for him. He wondered if she'd watched him walk Amanda to the car and if she'd say anything about that little move he'd made toward Amanda.
At least, he hadn't done what he'd wanted to do—take her in his arms, not let go, maybe promise her everything was going to be okay, that he'd make sure of it. Which would have only made things harder when he left.
