by Kyra Whitton
The last time she put make up on her face, she was meeting Calum at Saint Rule’s tower on a beautiful, summer day.
The old clock downstairs chimed six as Evie descended back downstairs, the echo of her father’s boots on the hardwood floor coaxing her out of hiding. By the scents rising up the two-story foyer, it seemed dinner wouldn’t be long, but she hadn’t wanted to brave seeing Evan Griffith with only her mother around. Staying upstairs indefinitely had temporarily tempted her, but it would only have been a matter of time before Laena dragged her out of the converted guest room.
Colonel Jamie Blair hung his patrol cap over a hook on the tree stand before shrugging off his jacket. He could easily pass for a man ten years his junior, his hair still thick and full, though he had it cut once a week to keep it military-short.
She descended the last step as he turned toward her with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. It was often accompanied by a crooked grin, and as he leaned in to give her a hug, it bloomed across his clean-shaved face.
He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “How ya feelin’, kiddo?”
She grunted and leaned into him, breathing in the starchy scent of his uniform. “Do you remember Evan Griffith?”
He quirked an eyebrow as she pulled away. “Of course I do. Dan and I have been friends for more than twenty-five years.”
“Mom invited him to dinner.”
“Dan? I thought he and Jen were in Hawaii.”
“No, Evan, Dad.”
“Evan is here? That’s great.” He paused and turned back to Evie with a frown. “He isn’t under my command, is he?”
Evie shrugged. “How should I know?”
He patted her shoulder and strode for the kitchen, calling her mother’s name as he went.
Evie made a bee-line for her spot on the sofa, lowering herself into the deep dent in the cushion just as the doorbell chimed. Cursing, she pushed herself back to her feet and limped to the front door.
She pulled it open.
She blinked, eyes widening. Evan wasn’t at all like the tow-headed boy she remembered. He wasn’t that much taller than she was, and she wasn’t particularly short, not tall, either, but somewhere in the middle at five-six. He may have skimmed five-foot-eleven on a good day, maybe even made it to six feet when in his boots. He was nearly as broad in width as he was in length, his shoulders comically wide, his arms thick with over-large muscles. His scalp was shaved smooth.
He grinned and held up a bottle of yellow mustard.
Evie’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pinched. She gripped the door handle to suppress the urge to slam it in his face. “Is it my turn?”
His smile faltered, but he held the bottle out to her with one hand and self-consciously rubbed the curve of his scalp with the other. “I suppose you could try, but there isn’t much to work with.”
The corner of her mouth twitched and she crossed her arms before stepping aside so he could enter. “You know, most people bring wine.”
He chuckled and placed his hands on the waistband of his jeans. Her dad usually stood the same way, his thumbs usually tucked into his belt loops. Most officers did, rules strictly forbidding them from putting hands in the pockets of their uniforms.
The buttons of Evan’s shirt pulled at the holes. It’s a wonder they didn’t pop off.
“I would have hated to make an inappropriate pairing.”
Evie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, well, yellow mustard is always a perfect match for every meal.” She smiled, tight-lipped.
His face fell. “Oh, I… Look, I just wanted to tell you, you know, I’m, uh, sorry. For what happened when we were kids.”
The apology was unexpected. How was she supposed to respond to it? She attempted a smile, but words failed her, and she turned abruptly for the kitchen.
She dropped the mustard on the counter as Laena pushed past her, arms wide as she welcomed Evan. He wrapped his gorilla-thick arms around Laena and placed a kiss on her cheek.
Laena pulled back first. “Jamie will be down in just a minute. Can I get you anything to drink? Beer? Cola? Sweet tea?”
“A beer would be great.”
She grinned, the corners of her eyes creasing, and pointed at Evie. “How ‘bout you take Evan out to the porch and I’ll be right there with that beer.”
Evie sighed heavily and led him through a side door to the screened-in porch. She motioned him to the wicker loveseat overlooking the parade field as she gracelessly flopped into one of the matching chairs. Overhead, antique fans churned the summer air, its heat heavy with humidity and the scent of freshly cut grass.
Evan clasped his hands together between his spread knees. “I, uh, I heard about your accident.”
“Ah, yes, most people have.” She sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure it was the talk of holiday and New Year’s receptions the world over.”
He chuckled, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. “You, uh, you look good.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his head.
“Yup. Not too hideously deformed. I guess I should thank my lucky stars for that.”
He squirmed.
“Stop making our guest uncomfortable, Evelyn.”
She glanced up at her father as the screen door clattered shut behind him.
His stern look gave way to a wide grin when Evan stood, hand outstretched. “How are ye, son?” He leaned forward, clapping his hand on Evan’s shoulder.
Evie rolled her eyes as they moved to the usual military prattle. “What unit?” and “How are they treating you?” and “Are you a platoon leader, yet?” She could never escape it.
But she’d never really wanted to until, now. The military had always fascinated her, every battle, every tradition. She loved the social implications, the technology, the history.
She pushed away their conversation, unable to avoid the anger that bubbled up anytime the accident was brought up. It simmered just underneath the surface, ready to erupt. She clenched her teeth as tears burned the corners of her eyes. No one ever mentioned Calum. They didn’t shed an ounce of sympathy for the man she lost or the future he would never have. The one she lost when she lost him.
To them, it was like he had never existed. She might as well have been in the car all by herself, and she suspected her mother preferred it that way.
Chapter Three
“I’m supposed to meet some buddies in Manhattan, if, uh, you want to, uh…” Evan trailed off.
For someone who seemed so confident in his outward appearance, the guy sure had a hard time stringing simple sentences together.
“Going to scam on college girls?” Evie quipped. She leaned back against the arm of her chair, her legs curled up on the seat.
He grinned sheepishly. “I am sure we can scrounge up some college boys for you.”
She shot him a disgusted look.
“Or girls!” he held up his hands. “Whatever you want.”
“I think it would be good for you to get out of the house,” he father called through the open kitchen window.
She should have known they were eavesdropping. She started to protest, but he came through the door.
“Have you even left the house this week?”
Evie opened her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut, again. After some contemplation, she nodded. “I brought you lunch on Tuesday.”
“You didn’t even get out of the car.”
“No, but I did have to walk through the rain to get to the car.”
“It hasn’t rained in two weeks.”
“Fine, the heat and humidity, which is practically the same thing.”
“How do you figure?”
“Both are extreme conditions.”
Evan watched their exchange with bewilderment, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of them like those of a tennis spectator. “So, does that mean…?”
“She’s going,” Jamie answered before Evie could get a word in edgewise.
She pursed her lips. “And my father
is picking up the tab.”
Jamie crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “I’ll pay for your cab home.”
“Oh, I’m designated driver, sir.” Evan held up a hand. “Low man on the totem pole and all that…” he trailed off.
Jamie’s gaze didn’t leave Evie’s. “I’ll give you a fifty.”
“A hundred.”
“Sixty.”
“One ten.”
“That’s not how bartering works,” Jamie said with wry amusement.
Evie shrugged. “I haven’t been out in months. I’m in no rush.”
“Seventy-five,” Jamie sighed.
“Eighty and we have a deal.”
The colonel nodded and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a couple of bills and handed them over. “I expect change.”
Evie swiped the two fifties and shoved them into the pocket of her jeans. “Sure thing, Dad.” She turned to Evan. “Ready?”
Evan nodded dumbly and stood. “Thank you for having me, Sir. Mrs. Blair,” he added as Laena remerged from the kitchen.
“It was our pleasure, Evan. Please come back. Any time.” Laena hugged him, patting his back.
Evie rolled her eyes. “Let me get my purse,” she muttered and disappeared into the house. She returned and walked out the screen door, leaving Evan to follow.
Outside, the deep-throated frog calls mingled with the whine of cicadas in the waning light. The sun had nearly set, turning the sky a vibrant, electric blue run through with shards of purple and pink. Evan led her down the street to a large, pristine pick-up truck sitting under a leafy oak. He pulled open the passenger side door, offering his hand so she could climb up. She hated to admit she even needed the assistance, but the step up was high and balance was no longer her star subject.
Anxiety climbed up her spine like an angry phantom as she pulled the seatbelt snugly around herself. Every time she strapped herself into a car, it gripped her, but the acceleration of her heartbeat was always quickest when she wasn’t behind the wheel. Giving up control was a difficult task, even when it was to her own parents, but placing her life in the hands of someone she hadn’t known in almost twenty years had her nails digging into the supple leather armrests.
“So, you told them you were bringing a date, didn’t you?” she asked after as Evan maneuvered the truck away from the curb and down the tree-lined street.
He had the good sense to try to look like he had no idea what she was talking about. “What? No, I would never—”
“Save it.” She waved. “What if I had been hideous? What if I had to drag my leg behind me like a horror movie villain? What if I drooled?”
He kept his gaze on the road, but blinked a few times. “Uh…”
She crossed her arms over her chest and sank a little further down into the seat. “You just mentioned my father’s name, right?”
He turned bright red, the color growing up from his ears until it covered his perfectly smooth scalp. He almost looked like a red billiards ball.
“Look, I’m just the new guy.” He shot a glance her way. “And you didn’t even want to come in the first place. The col—your dad had to pay you to get you out of the house.”
Evie smirked. “Yup.”
“So, me asking you to come out benefited you quite a bit. You should be thanking me.”
Oh. There was the muscle-guy confidence. It came complete with self-appreciative grin and painfully blinding teeth.
Evie sighed. “All right. What do you want?” She released the armrest to point a finger at him. “And don’t you think for a second I have forgotten about your little mustard stunt.”
“I thought that was behind us,” he grumbled. “Just pretend like you don’t completely hate me?”
“Now you’re asking for the impossible.” She sighed.
“Gotta start somewhere, I suppose.”
She laughed and relaxed a little.
His was one of the only cars on the road, only a few headlights running in the opposite direction, a pair of red brake lights glowing in the distance. The drive would have been nice if darkness hadn’t snuffed out the rolling green hills. For someone who was so new to the area, Evan seemed to know exactly where he was going.
She shouldn’t have been surprised; he was a single male in his early twenties living and working within twenty miles of a college town. It was like a moth to a flame. A paperclip to a magnet. Her mother to paperback romance novels. Every imaginable cliché rolled up into one.
He turned up the radio as they cruised into town and took a residential street toward the campus. The bar where they were meeting his coworkers was a block away from the football stadium in a little area filled with local restaurants, bars, coffee shops, and bakeries. Evan searched for a close parking spot, but had to park around the corner, the only available space near the bar being too small for the truck. He didn’t think much of it until she joined him on the sidewalk, her limp more pronounced than usual due to being stuck in the same position in the car.
He stopped short as she joined him on the sidewalk, stiffness from the long ride making her limp more pronounced. “Oh, shit, I didn’t even think, I’m sorry, do you want—”
She waved him off. “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? I could carry you?”
She chuckled and lifted an eyebrow. “You want to carry me?”
“Well, if you need me to, I can.”
She shook her head. What ridiculous offer. “I’m fine. Really.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and they continued in companionable silence down the sidewalk. As they approached an Irish-themed establishment, four leaf clover logo painted on the brick wall, Evan trotted ahead to pull the door open for her. Inside, the décor was exactly what she expected of a college town: billiards tables, dart boards, and a wall full of dollar bills. She followed Evan to a crowded table of short-haired men and a single female.
Evan introduced Evie around, but she could barely hear any of the names. She held her hand up in greeting and shook a few offered her way. Only one avoided looking at her, his head bent over a beer, one hand cupping the sweaty sides.
She pulled out empty chair next to him.
His gaze shifted beneath hooded brows to take her in as she looked up at Evan. “I’ll take whatever beer’s on tap.”
She lifted an eyebrow when the stranger continued to eye her around his long, straight nose.
“I’m Evie,” she half-yelled at him over the noise. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
His gaze shifted again, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Iain.”
“Do you work with Evan?” she asked. She hated sitting back and feeling uncomfortable. She would rather talk and feel uncomfortable.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Oh. Well… what do you do?”
He stared at her for a beat too long, his brows pulled low over his eyes. “I’m a scout.”
“Oh.” She chewed on her lip. “I have no idea what that means.”
He shrugged and turned away, giving her the back of his head.
“Okay,” she mouthed and huffed out a breath.
Swiveling in the chair, she scanned the bar for Evan. He leaned against the bar, his head bent toward a girl with a long, sweeping curtain of black hair. The other woman matched him in height and regarded him through heavily-made up lashes. A short dress hung from her mostly exposed shoulders, the silhouette just shy of elegant.
She had once been that girl.
Evie sighed and looked down at her soft jeans and simple blue shirt. Not anymore. Not with her scars.
She turned back to face her momentary companion then dropped her chin into her palm. “Well, I guess I can give up the expectation that the beer would be cold,” she muttered as she reached for the drink menu.
“I take it that means you aren’t really his date.” Iain canted his head in her direction.
“Is that what he told you?” she asked slyly.<
br />
“He intimated as much,” he said with a shrug.
“Yeah, well… No. I am here giving him the moral support only a friend can give.” She fluttered her eyelashes in his direction, but couldn’t even muster a bland upturn of the lips.
She shouldn’t have agreed to this, even if it did make her a wad of cash she really didn’t need.
“And you? What is it you do?” Iain yelled over the loud humming conversation around them.
She waved her hand off-handedly. “Oh, you know, just the proverbial leech on society.”
His expression didn’t change, but he watched her, waiting for her to explain.
Evie sighed, propping her elbow on the table and dropping her chin into it. “I’m sort of taking a break from life right now.”
“Taking a break from life? That doesn’t sound like a thing.”
She grimaced. “I was in an accident last year. I’m living with my parents while I recover and, you know, figure out what the hell I am supposed to do next.” She let her empty hand drop and it smacked onto the smooth surface of the table.
“I would imagine you just pick up where you left off.”
“Mm, not that easy.” She looked back over toward Evan, wondering if he would ever bring a beer. He was still enthralled by the black-haired girl and her long, slender limbs.
“Oh? And why not?” He turned in the direction of the eager young lieutenant and smirked before returning his gaze to Evie.
How much did she really want to tell him? On the one hand, she hated talking about it. Hated remembering it. But on the other, it was one of the rare opportunities for her to tell her own story to someone who hadn’t already received the highlights from her mother.
“I was engaged,” she finally answered. “He was driving and… didn’t make it.”
How did she sound so collected? How was her voice so even and emotionless? She still felt like she was being pulled apart on the inside, the pain no different than it had been the moment she learned she would never see Calum, again. She hadn’t talked about it. With anyone. Not her mother, not her father, not the therapist she now refused to go to, the loss of Calum was something she kept locked inside.
It was a pain she felt she was owed for being the one to live. And she kept her punishment to herself. Not that anyone had really tried to get her to open up about the good ole days, anyway. It felt oddly liberating to have told someone—anyone—about her engagement and subsequent loss.
