“Hey, yourself.”
“You stayed.” Her voice was hoarse, and a wince accompanied her words.
“Yeah.”
“Oh God,” she groaned once more. “My head hurts.”
“I expected it would. Take the pills, they’ll help.” He straightened and moved away, annoyed that her vulnerability was enhanced tenfold by the sweet remnants of the sandman.
“Jake?”
He paused at the door and waited, but after several long moments realized that she was out cold once more. He closed the door, grabbed a coffee, and left Raine deep in dreamland, hopefully with more than enough painkillers for the hangover that was about to pay her a visit.
***
“You look like shit, Jake.”
“Thanks.” Jake threw his jacket across one of the kitchen chairs and scowled in Lily’s general direction. “And in case you’re wondering, I sure as hell feel worse than I look.”
Dawn had fully arrived, spreading a wash of sunlight across the fresh snow that reflected back so brightly, it made him squint. He walked over to the bay window that encircled the breakfast nook and stared out across the lake. It was much too early for the lake to freeze, and the water looked rough as it rolled onto the beach, pushed forward by a cold north wind. In the distance, he saw the sprinkling of cottages lining the water, but for the most part, this side of Crystal Lake was isolated, with homes that were considered estates nestled among forest and privacy.
Only those with deep enough pockets could afford to live here.
“It’s pretty.”
He nodded. “It sure is.”
“Do you miss it?” Lily was beside him now, her willowy frame covered in bright pink flannel pajamas that hid a hell of a lot more than Raine’s bedtime attire.
“I used to.” His eyes followed a squirrel as it frantically dug through the snow at the base of one of the oak trees that bordered his parents’ estate. When the darkness of Afghanistan was overwhelming, thoughts of home had always got him through. Memories of the lake, his family. Raine.
“You don’t anymore?”
He shook his head. “Not really.” Liar.
His abrupt tone would have put most people off, but Lily wasn’t most people. She had an innate ability to see and hear only what she wanted to.
“Coffee?” she asked.
He’d already had two cups but… “Cream?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Damn straight. Is there any other way?” Lily grinned and settled back into her chair. She grabbed the newspaper he’d brought in with him. “Can you pour me a cup while you’re at it?”
“Sure thing, princess.”
He fixed them each a cup and grimaced when he caught sight of his face reflected in the window. With his overgrown hair and scruffy chin, he looked nothing like the soldier he’d once been. Christ, if his unit could see him now, they’d think he’d gone Hollywood. They’d call him a pussy and have every right to do so.
“Your parents are nice.” Lily set the paper down and stared at him in that direct way that she had—the one that put most people o
n edge. With her face free of makeup and her hair thrown back into a ponytail, she looked younger, fresher than the woman she portrayed in public. “They’re so normal…nothing like the circus I grew up with.”
“I gotta agree with you,” he said drily. “They’re pretty damn special.”
Lily folded the paper just so and tugged the edge of her flannel pajamas down to her wrists. She settled back into her chair, all prim and proper, and took a sip of coffee as she stared at him.
“What?” he said abruptly.
The woman had radar for all kinds of shit, but he didn’t know if he was in the mood for any of it right now. Sure, they’d bonded over a shared bottle of tequila on one hell of a crazy night at the Sundowner in Texas, but two fractured human beings didn’t always make for the best sort of company.