A Lot Like Christmas (Wishful 11)

“It’s fine. Just get in the truck.”

The clipped tone had her hunching into her coat. No way was she getting behind the wheel with him in this kind of mood. “Ryan, I can’t deal with your stress and mine. Something is clearly going on with you that you don’t want to talk about. And that’s fine. It’s just not a good time. We’ll do this later.”

“Later,” he snorted. “Sure. Just keep running away from your commitments because it’s easier. Maybe you should just keep on walking.”

Stunned, she could only stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a coward. Hiding out from your life, making do with this small existence instead of taking the hard road and doing whatever’s necessary to get back to your real life.”

His words hit her like a hail of bullets, hard enough she stumbled back. What could she say? It was true. Her sister had been carefully tiptoeing around it for the past two months. But there was no reason for this implacable, hateful attitude. No reason that was about her, anyway. Because this wasn’t the man she’d come to know.

“What happened after you left me last night?”

“Nothing.”

“Something happened. Something tripped this switch, because the guy I’ve gotten to know over the past couple of weeks isn’t an asshole.”

“You wouldn’t know what I am.”

“I know you’re hurting over something and lashing out.” Nothing else made sense.

“You don’t know anything. Newsflash, Elf Girl, the world isn’t the happy, fluffy place you pretend it to be.”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

He snorted in disgust. “This was a mistake. All of this was a mistake.” There was no question that by this he meant them.

She flinched back as if he’d slapped her, her back coming up against the truck. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean every word.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe she’d misjudged him from the beginning. Either way, she wasn’t sticking around for more abuse. “Fine. I’m gonna go. If you decide to pull your head out of your ass, you know where to find me.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she strode down the driveway, everything he’d said banging around in her brain like so many bumper cars. As she reached the sidewalk, she turned back, taking in his stiff posture, his fisted hands, and the immutable set of his chin. “You know, maybe I am living small and in the grand scheme of things my life is insignificant, but it’s better than this shadow of a life you insist on. At least I’m not afraid to let people love me.”

His expression didn’t even flicker.

Accepting the disappointment of that, she walked away.

Ryan needed to get the hell out of Wishful. Everywhere he looked reminded him of Hannah and of the fact that he’d been here, enjoying life, instead of in Afghanistan, a part of the mission that had stolen his friend’s life. The details Jerod had relayed about the op kept playing on repeat in his head. If he’d been there, he could’ve done something to stabilize Robbie long enough to make it to a fucking hospital. Instead, he’d died of the trauma before he’d even made it on the helo.

But he couldn’t just leave. Not without completing the mission he’d been assigned here. Tired of waiting, of diplomacy, of pussy-footing around the realities, Ryan carried his medical bag downstairs. Percy sat at the kitchen table, digging into the spoils of his poker tournament win. Of course a grown-ass man should have pie at ten in the damned morning.

“Well, I see your mood hasn’t improved. Have some pie, since you clearly didn’t get anything else sweet this week.”

No, he certainly hadn’t. He’d poured gasoline all over his relationship with Hannah and set it on fire. “I don’t want any damned pie. We’re doing this exam. I need to get back to base, and I need to know you’re okay before I go.”

“You’re not my doctor, and I don’t need a damned exam to tell me what I already know. I’m old as dirt. End of story.”

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Percy—”

“You think I don’t know your mama sent you, no matter what bull you fed me when you got here? I’m no idiot. I let you stay because she’s worried about you, too.”

Ryan dropped his hand and stared at his uncle. Had his mother set him up this whole time? Surely she hadn’t deliberately exaggerated Percy’s condition to get him home from the field for this. Surely this was just something she’d said to Percy to cover up for what she’d really asked. Because the alternative didn’t bear contemplating. “There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“Beg to differ, son. I was all set to send her back a report that everything was fine with you. But it’s sure as shit not. Not after the last couple of days.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan gritted out. He wasn’t going to let this get turned around on him.