“And you didn’t get hit?”
“You know how in the movies the good guy runs through a stream of bullets, never getting shot? It was like that. I had a team of guys covering me and I returned fire, but still, I felt invincible.”
Her smile faded, her gaze dropping to the untouched sandwich. “And then I served the remaining months of my tour, came home, and . . . and I fell apart. It started with nightmares. About that day. And others. I couldn’t sleep. I felt like I always had to keep watch. And that hypervigilance infiltrated the rest of my life. It got worse, and I didn’t want to leave the house.
“I know I’m one of the lucky ones,” she continued. “I’m learning to cope. It’s just not going to happen overnight, or in the next few weeks. I keep pushing my limits. But sometimes they push back.”
“Take all the time you need, Lena.” He smiled, soft and gentle.
“Thank you.” She wondered if he understood how much those words meant to her. She’d spent months surrounded by friends and family
who wanted to make it better, to find the cure-all, whether it was a complicated drug cocktail or more time in therapy. They wanted to close the book on the terrors that followed her around.
“Can I take you out tonight?” he asked. “I was thinking Italian. Or maybe Mexican since we had pizza last night? If you want, we could grab take-out and eat here.”
“I can’t. I promised Georgia I’d stop by for dinner. Before we made our deal.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth, thinking about what she’d be missing before, or maybe after, their “date.” “I could cancel.”
“No, I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow. And tonight, I’ll be waiting when you get home,” he said, but this time he didn’t offer his I’ll-charm-your-panties-off smile. His intense brown eyes were hot and wanting. “If you want to challenge the boundaries, hell, I’m right there with you. I want you, Lena. But the rules stand.”
“No guns,” she said. “In bed.”
“And we stop whenever you want. Don’t forget that.” Chad stood. “Will you do one thing for me?”
She nodded, expecting the next words out his mouth to be dirty and wild. Have your pink toy ready. Take your panties off before you come upstairs tonight.
“Call whomever you need to call and tell you’d like to accept the medal,” he said. “You can always cancel. But you earned this honor. And I hate to see fear hold you back from accepting it.”
“I might run as soon as I reach the stage,” she said.
“I’ll come with you, grab the medal, and follow you to the truck,” he said. “Look, I know you’re searching for normal, to be who you were before. But Lena, I don’t think there is anything wrong with who you are now.”
Her heart rate kicked up a notch as he turned and headed for the door. And this time it had nothing to do with panic. She’d wanted to hear those words ever since she’d returned home and realized she couldn’t slip into civilian life like a pair of old shoes. But she hadn’t expected them to come from him—the man who occupied only a temporary place in her life.
THE FRONT DOOR to Eric and Georgia’s sprawling timber frame home opened a crack and the smell of melted chocolate drifted out. Cookies. Knowing Georgia, they were probably made from scratch, contained beet juice to make them “healthy,” and had enough chewy, high-calorie goodness that Lena wouldn’t care about the tablespoon of vegetables.
“You can come in, but Hero has to stay out there,” a small, commanding voice said. She glanced down and saw Nate, Eric’s three-soon-to-be-four-year-old nephew holding the door, a stuffed green dinosaur with a big toothy smile tucked under his arm.
“I need my dog with me, Nate. He’s my superhero, remember?” she said, borrowing the words Georgia had used to explain Hero’s presence in their home when Lena first moved in to stay with them.
“He’ll eat my T-rex,” Nate said. “He chewed my big, big bridge the last time you were here.”
Hero glanced up at her, his lips forming a doggie smile around his chew toy. The expression on his canine face said, I’m so guilty.
Turning away from Hero, she crouched down to the little boy’s level, trying to think of a reason that would convince the child to let the guilty-as-charged Hero in the door.
“I’m sorry about the bridge. I promise to replace it.” It was on her list of things to buy as soon as she had a job, right below new cell phone. “If he promises to behave, can we come in?”
“No.”
“Nate?” Georgia’s voice echoed in the great room just beyond the front door. “Nate, is Lena at the door?”
“Yes, but she can’t come in with the dog.”
Georgia appeared, wearing an “I Heart Oregon” apron over her jeans and T-shirt. “Kiddo, Lena needs Hero. He fights the bears for her.”
Nate studied the dog for a moment and then nodded, opening the door wide. “But he can’t come near my toys.”
“Deal,” Lena said, wrapping her hand around Hero’s collar as she led him into the house. Holding the stuffed duck between his teeth, Hero glanced longingly at the wooden train tracks. But she drew him away, following Georgia into the kitchen. Through the open doorway, they could see Nate playing with his toys.