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“It’s just …”
He nodded. “I know.”
She wondered if he did. If he understood how conflicted she felt.
And still they stood there, bodies locked together.
“Can I make it up to you and cook you dinner this weekend?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I must be missing something here.”
“What?”
He dropped a kiss to her nose then took a step back. Jess shivered. She hadn’t been ready to let any air between them yet, could have stood like that all night. Against his rock-hard, strong body, and melted against that soft, pillowy mouth of his all evening.
“What do you need to make up to me?” he asked.
“For the way my brother was. The way tonight turned out.”
He caught her hand and traced a finger across her palm. “Believe me, sweetheart, you more than made up for his frostiness.”
Jessica’s entire body felt hot, clammy. She wasn’t used to being so bold, and she certainly wasn’t used to talking about her actions. “He’s, well, protective over me. We lost my sister a few years back, and he’s made it his personal mission to keep me safe.”
She wasn’t lying. The fact they’d lost their sister had made Steven protective. Her ending up with the same cancer had made him worse, spurred his “big bad wolf” routine into action, but keeping that part from Ryan wasn’t the same as not telling the truth.
“I’ve met my share of tough guys, Jess, and your brother doesn’t strike me as anything other than worried about his little sister making a bad choice. He just wants to keep you safe, right?”
She liked the kindness on Ryan’s face, the way he looked so open. It was not how she’d expected him to be. The soldier who’d seemed so tortured on paper was surprisingly unmessed-up in real life. Or else he was just really good at disguising it.
“I still want to make it up to you.”
He grinned. “I’d like that.”
Jessica didn’t know where to look. His eyes were shining at her, suggesting things she wasn’t sure about. Things she might want but maybe wasn’t ready for. Yet.
“So dinner Sunday night?” she offered.
“Yeah.” Ryan squeezed her hand and opened his door. “Maybe you could tell me about your sister.”
Jess felt a shiver trawl her spine, her pulse suddenly thumping. She didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to tell him how her sister had died, without being able to admit what she’d been through.
It was too close. Still too real for her to open up to him. And if she told him the truth, about her sister dying and then her getting the same disease, he would know she’d been lying all this time. That she’d listened to him talk about his wife, listened to him say he didn’t ever want to be in that position again, and pretended she was fine. When she hadn’t been fine, and still might not be.
“Maybe.”
He didn’t seem put out. Relief washed through her as he casually shrugged. “I’ll see you Sunday.”
She pushed his car door shut when he put down the window.
“Sunday,” she affirmed.
Ryan pulled away slowly from the curb.
She watched him for a moment, then walked back to the house. Even though she felt a little guilty, that she should have just told him from the very beginning what had happened to her last year, about the breast cancer, it was so nice that he didn’t know.
Would he hold her the same if he knew? Or would he think her as breakable as a tiny bird? Would he want her so bad if he knew what she’d been through? Especially when his wife had battled something similar and lost. From what he’d so honestly told her, she already knew the answer to that.
Jessica looked up and found Steve leaning in the door frame, his body filling the space. She glared at him.
“How long have you been standing there?”
He shrugged, not even caring he’d been found out, that she’d caught him as good as spying on her. “Long enough.”
She gave him a shove in the shoulder and walked past him.
Once upon a time he would have shoved her back, grabbed her and made her beg for mercy, the way they’d been as kids, play fighting at every opportunity.
Tonight he just shut the door and followed. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”
“He’s only here for a couple of months.”
He grabbed her shoulder, his fingers firm enough to stop her. She didn’t turn.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Jess spun around. “So what? So what if I do?”
His eyes crumpled, the creases at the side of his eyes, the ones that hadn’t been there before she’d battled her cancer, appearing. Jessica hated seeing the way he’d aged.
She relaxed against his touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“I was going to say that he actually seemed like a nice guy.”
Jessica let out a shuddering breath. “He is.”
“And I can tell he likes you.”
She closed her eyes, embarrassed. Had Steve seen the way she’d kissed him? “But …?”
“But he’s going away soon and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Argh. There he went again. Just when she was starting to think he wasn’t going to interfere. But he was only telling her what she already knew.
“I know what I’m getting myself into, Steve.”
She turned to walk away again, but his words made her stop.
“But does he?” Her brother paused. She could feel him behind her but he didn’t touch her this time, didn’t try to stop her from walking away. “You need to tell him, Jess. He needs to know.”
Tears filled her eyes then, but she forced down the choke in her throat. Wouldn’t let it take hold of her. “Or what?”
His voice softened. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, okay?”
Too late for that. Her heart had already been broken before, shattered into so many pieces she’d wondered if it could ever recover. She was in no danger of Ryan doing that to her.
“I don’t want him to treat me any different, Steve. I just want him to like me for me.”
Steve moved closer, touched both his hands to her shoulders, waiting until she spun around to face him. “He’ll still want you, Jess. If he’s half-decent it won’t scare him, but you need to tell him.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Steve couldn’t understand, because she didn’t want to tell him the whole story. The truth about Ryan’s wife’s death. And it wasn’t her story to tell anyway.
“Come here.” Steve pulled her into his embrace and held her as she cried. As the tears soaked the shoulder of his T-shirt.
He might be an ass sometimes, an overprotective oaf, but when she needed him he was always there for her. She leaned heavily against him, safe in his arms.
“He’s not Mark, you know,” he told her, holding her tight. “The way he looked at you tonight, the way he was around you, I can just tell.”
She nodded against his shoulder and closed her eyes until the tears stopped.
“What if I want to be the old me for a little while? What if I want to enjoy his company and have fun while he’s here? Does he really need to know?” she begged.
Steve stepped back. “You’re not that kind of girl, Jess. If you were, your ex leaving you wouldn’t have hit you so hard.”
It was true. She’d never been interested in casual relationships, but this was different. This was getting outside her comfort zone with a man who wasn’t making her any promises, who was only here for a short time. Was it so bad that she wanted to be with him while she could?
“I don’t want him to know, Steve. It’s more complicated than I can explain.”
“I’m not saying anything if you’re not. It’s your choice.”
She kissed her brother on the cheek. “So if you liked him so much why were you so hard on him?”
That made him grin. “I had to test him. No point letting him off easy.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible.”
He linked arms with her and they walked back into the kitchen. “Nope, I’m your big brother. And it means I’m allowed to be the tough guy.”
As much as she moaned about him, there sure was something nice about knowing she had Steve around to protect her.
Ryan sat on his bed and toyed with his dog tag. It comforted him, the weight of it, reminded him of all those nights he’d lain awake on the other side of the world. Thinking about what he’d done, what he should have done and what the future held.
Part of him was itching to be back with his unit, but the other part was feeling settled. Happy to be back home on American soil.
And spending time with a girl he was going crazy about.
But it wasn’t helping him with his son. Jessica had helped him, plenty, but his feelings for her weren’t making things right with George. Instead he was showing her the person he wanted to be without proving the same to his son.
Something was weird about being back under the same roof as his parents. About having his son down the hall yet not feeling brave enough to go into his room to try to talk to him.
When he’d gone back to war after his wife died, he hadn’t had a choice. He had been granted emergency leave when she’d been diagnosed, and the army had been understanding when he’d kept extending it. But the reality was that he’d owed them more time, and even though it had been hard going away again after all that had happened, he’d done it.
Back then, he’d told his parents they could move into his house, to keep things less traumatic for George. Besides, their place had been small, and the home Ryan had shared with his wife was comfortable and much bigger.
Ryan had felt like his paying the mortgage, making sure his parents and son were financially okay, was enough. But it hadn’t been enough and until a couple of weeks ago he hadn’t truly understood that.
Jessica was helping him to clear his head. To realize what it meant to be a real father again. Somehow her letters and her compassion, the way she made him feel when they were together, were reminding him of the man he’d once been.
Because right now the man he was around her wasn’t the same man he was around his son.
And it was fear holding him back. Because when his son refused to talk to him, he wasn’t telling him he hated him. Ryan could still pretend that one day things might be okay again.
But unless he did something about it, he might lose his chance forever.
He smiled as he thought about Jessica. About the way she’d fallen into his arms tonight and kissed him like he’d almost forgotten how to. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman, and with her he felt like himself again.
It spurred him into action. If he was going to be that guy, he had to be him in every aspect of his life. And that meant making things right with George.
Now.
No more excuses.
He got up and opened the door, then walked down the hall. Light was still spilling out from beneath his son’s door, even though it was late.
Ryan knocked softly. There was no response, so he opened it.
George was lying on his bed, earphones in his ears, iPod resting on his chest. The lamp was still on, even though he’d fallen asleep.
He stood there, towering over his boy as he slept. His face was so young in slumber. There was no trace of the sulky preteen, almost a hint of the face he’d known years ago, when they’d been so close.
Ryan bent to pick up the iPod and gently reached to take the earphones out.
George stirred. Then opened his eyes.
Ryan froze.
His son went to say something, went to move, but Ryan put his hand against George’s chest and slowly bent his legs until he could sit on the bed. George didn’t say a word.
There were questions in his son’s eyes. Questions he wished would come out in the open so he could tell him the truth, could tell him how sorry he was.
George pulled the cord so his ears were free. Then glared at him. Ryan went to move, to stand up again, but his son grabbed his hand. Made him stop. Then George burst into tears, his entire body shaking from the sobs deep in his chest.
“Come here.” Ryan took his boy into his arms and held him, held him so tight he hoped he wasn’t hurting him, and fought the emotions that were running through his own body, thrumming through him, desperate to escape. His eyes were burning, body tense as he held his son, the boy suddenly feeling so young and vulnerable in his arms. “Shhh, it’s okay.”
“You left me,” George managed to say between sobs. “Why did you leave me?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding him even tighter, never wanting to let him go. “I’m so, so sorry.”
