Neal was silent, familiar tension rising in his throat.
“Does your old unit know what happened to you?’
“No.”
Mary squeezed his arm. “They must think you went AWOL?”
“By now, they’d think I was dead,” Neal guessed.
“You must be pretty angry about that.”
Neal opened his mouth to deny it, then snapped it shut. He’d spent so much time trying not to think about it that he hadn’t recognized how furious it all made him, or how much that frustration was leaking into all the other parts of his life.
Mary, with a thoughtful look that suggested she saw his revelation, went on. “I imagine you’re pretty pissed that you never got revenge.”
“Beehag died,” Neal said shortly.
“His heart gave out over the antidote to a sedative. I don’t imagine there was any satisfaction in that.”
Neal realized his hands were balled in fists. He sighed and uncoiled them.
“Are you a therapist?” he asked, not entirely teasing. Some of the staff had tentatively suggested he talk to one, but they had stopped dropping hints after he reacted poorly.
“I’m a math teacher,” Mary said with amusement. “At a middle school.”
Neal saluted. “I should have known you worked in a combat zone.”
“Because of the way I screamed about a spiderweb in my hair?” Mary’s sideways look was rich with humor and self-deprecation.
Neal might have let her brush it off with humor, but their talk had left him raw and observant. She was genuinely embarrassed about her fear, and felt bad for her reaction.
“I was the only deer shifter in a family of big cats, a throwback to a great-grandmother who was a deer,” she explained shyly. “I guess I got used to being protected, and everyone … just expected me to be afraid of things. I think it's just a habit, now.”
“It’s okay to be afraid,” he said roughly, and unexpectedly, it was true for more than just her.
Into the silence that fell after that, Mary’s stomach rumbled audibly, and she giggled. Neal let out a rusty guffaw with her, startling himself, and said, “It must be after lunch. Damn, I was supposed to help Travis with some cement work…”
They unwound themselves from each other and stood.
“You have to take care of yourself first,” Mary said.
“Why do I get the feeling that’s advice you don’t always take?” Neal asked suspiciously.
He knew he was right by Mary’s blush.
“I’ll meet you later?” she deflected.
“I’ll be working until late,” Neal said apologetically.
“Then I’ll meet you late.”
“By the pool? I’ll be closing the bar.”
Mary nodded. “I’ll be there.”
An awkward moment of silence followed. Neal felt as if all the words had been dredged out of him and he had none left to offer.
“Later, then,” Mary said shyly, and she moved to leave.