“You didn’t expect me to go for the bad-boy type?”
His knuckles stroked along her arm. “I’m not sure what to say here without pissing you off.”
“How about be honest.”
The air hung heavy between them as he seemed to mull over the best way to dole out that honesty. There was only the sound of bullfrogs and a low mumble beyond the front door as their guards conversed. Disco finished his sniffing ritual and settled on the floor in front of the sofa with a doggy huff.
“Let’s just say that every time you mentioned him in the past, there was such… hell, I don’t know… adoration in your voice, I assumed he was a saint.”
Adoration? She would have said it was love he heard. And yet somehow she shied away from searching deeper into what he said, as if flinching away from a finger poking a bruise.
“Caden was the epitome of high school bad boy who wanted to turn his life around. He joined the military hoping it would give him some structure, help him get his life together.”
“How ‘not together’ was his life?”
“Drinking, some drugs.” She’d broken up with him once when she found a bag of pot under his seat during one of their dates. That he would risk getting her arrested… God, she’d been mad and heartbroken. “His parents were well-off, his dad drank, so he did too. Not that I’m making excuses for him. He wouldn’t have wanted that. Caden did a quiet stint in rehab and he’d really turned things around for himself. For us.”
“You loved him.”
She’d told Liam that before, but finally she heard an understanding in his voice. He got that it wasn’t just adoration, or some frivolous high school crush. She’d found and lost her soul mate and that still left a void in her today.
Finally, Liam seemed to believe and accept that about her. While there was victory in that, there was also a loss. Because now he would really understand she was unattainable. Or her heart was, anyway…
But her body?
“I just wish…” She scrubbed her wrist over her dry eyes, which had long ago been cried out of tears, but as she sat here curled up in Liam’s arms, her emotions felt closer to the surface somehow. “Everything just feels fresh right now. He’d been in the service for a year when he went overseas.”
The image of Caden in his uniform stayed just as clear in her mind as if she’d pulled his framed photo from under the album of high school prom memories. He’d said he joined up for her, to show her how committed he was to making a future with her, one he’d built and not one his parents bought for him.
She swallowed down the pride along with tears and regrets. “He got captured at a checkpoint. Recon teams searched for him and finally located him. By the time they could launch an offensive to rescue him, he’d been beheaded.”
“God, Rachel,” he said softly, tucking her closer, his other hand linking fingers with hers. “I am so sorry, for him and for you.”
She let the silence stretch through half a commercial on TV for some deodorant until her brain cleared of the lingering grief enough to put words together again.
“Thank you, but I’m past needing sympathy.” Although the warm firm grip of his thumb massaging the palm of her hand felt so very good right now. “I’ve done my best to channel what happened into something positive. That’s part of what got me into search and rescue. A sense of how vital minutes, even seconds, can be in saving a life. Now I feel like a huge cop-out for backing away from the mission. But since the Bahamas, I’m just… hollow.”
“That earthquake cleanup, the rescues, it was an especially rough gig.”
Her eyes stayed dry but her throat was clogging fast. “Maybe I’m the one who needs a therapy dog.”
“Search and rescue can take a lot out of a person.”
“You’re still working.” She traced a finger around his name tag stitched to his uniform.
“I’m a robot.”
She snorted on a laugh. God, she’d forgotten how he knew just when to roll out his sense of humor. “Hardly.”
“And neither are you.”
Humor and wisdom wrapped up in one hot guy. Not fair. “I let my brain get muddied when I met Brandon. So much of him reminded me of Caden.” She glanced at Liam, close enough to notice a hint of a cowlick in his dark blond hair that seemed endearing somehow. “I don’t have romantic feelings for Brandon. But there was still this sense that if I could help him, I was helping Caden. Does that make sense?”
“Completely. My buddy Hugh Franco always took on the riskiest assignments. He had this frenzy, like if he could save enough people, somehow his wife and kid would come back to life.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. And I really thought the therapy and the dog was all working for Brandon. He seemed clearer. Not exactly happy, but focused. He started making plans for the future. He was building an agility course in his backyard to exercise his dog.” She settled back into his arms more at ease now, as if they were genuinely curled together to talk and watch John Wayne save the day on TV. “I just can’t reconcile in my head that he’s anything but honest—and while he may not be one hundred percent steady, my gut tells me he’s legit, in spite of all the PTSD jamming the wires. The same gut that led me through SAR missions… You understand what I mean, right?”
“I do. Absolutely.”