Читать книгу An Officer And Her Gentleman - Amy Woods - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Avery woke for the second time that night about an hour later.

For a moment, forgetting the strange dreamlike events of the night, she thought she might be back at home safe in her bed while Tommy and Macy cooked breakfast for her niece and nephew.

But when Avery sat up and opened her eyes, a rush of panic hit her like a bucket of ice water and she shot up from an unfamiliar couch, gasping for breath as she fully realized that she had no idea where she was.

Again.

A hand-knit afghan in alternating tones of light and dark blues tumbled to the floor, covering her feet, and as her eyes adjusted to the golden light coming from a nearby table lamp, Avery glanced briefly around the room. It was minimally decorated but cozy, and she wondered at the comfort it provided despite its newness to her.

“Easy there,” a low voice came from behind the sofa and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Avery put up her fists and turned around in one quick motion, ready to face whatever situation her unpredictable, unreliable mind had gotten her into now.

“Who are you, and where the hell am I?” she spat out, willing her voice to mask the fear that was quickly weaving its way from her gut to her chest.

The nightmares were bad enough, but the flashbacks, rarer though they were, absolutely terrified her. This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in a place from which she couldn’t retrace her steps. If it happened on too many more occasions, she didn’t even want to think about the action her family and therapist might agree on against her will. She’d already lost her job and her own place. The thought of being locked up somewhere...

The man in front of her gently placed the cell phone he’d been holding on a small end table, immediately holding up both of his hands. She vaguely recalled his handsome face as a tiny slice of memory slipped from the recesses of her mind, but it vanished before she could catch it, leaving her with nothing helpful.

“My name’s Isaac. Isaac Meyer. I’m not gonna hurt you. And obviously you don’t remember—you were pretty out of it—but we did meet earlier.” A Southern accent similar to her own slid over the man’s words like hot gravy, identifying him as a local.

“Avery,” she murmured.

He stood completely still as Avery looked him up and down, her soldier’s instincts and peripheral vision checking every inch of his person, even as her eyes remained steadily locked on to his. They were a rich brown, she noticed, instantly chastising herself for wasting time on such a silly thought when she faced a potential enemy.

When Avery didn’t speak for a long moment, he continued.

“Look, I know this has been a strange night, at least for me, but—” He hesitated and seemed to be working through his thoughts before speaking. “I found you on the side of the road. In a ditch. Jane and I didn’t know what to do and there wasn’t a damn thing could be done to help you out there in the dark, so we brought you back here.”

He lowered one hand, slowly and cautiously as if trying not to unsettle a rabid animal, and pointed toward the phone before putting his hand back up. “I was just about to call 9-1-1 and see about getting someone out here to check on you. Then you woke up and, well, here we are.”

Avery had no recollection of meeting him earlier, only his word to go on and the vague, déjà vu–like inkling that she’d seen him before. The past few hours were as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. In all he’d said, only one insignificant thing stuck out to her. That seemed the way of it lately. If she couldn’t focus on everything, she picked out the smallest bit and used that to ground her in reality. It was one of the few things her therapist had taught her that she’d actually practiced.

“Jane? Who’s Jane?” she asked, wondering, of all things, why that particular piece of information mattered.

At the mention of the name, Isaac’s features noticeably softened and Avery let her body do likewise, relaxing a little as she checked off facts in her head. One—if he’d a mind to, he could have murdered her already. Two—the man had placed a homemade blanket on her, for goodness’ sake. What murderer did such a thing? And three—if he was to be believed, and there was no clear indication why he shouldn’t at this point, as she was standing there unharmed in his comfortable home, he’d been about to call for help, something she absolutely did not want him to do. Thank goodness she’d woken up in time to prevent that from happening. The very last thing she needed right now was for Tommy or her parents to have another reason to worry about her. Of all the things she hated about her PTSD, perhaps the worst was the way it had turned a grown, successful woman into a child, or at least that’s how her family saw her.

She had to get back home as soon as possible, but first, she needed to find out exactly how far her deceitful mind had dragged her this time.

She waited for an answer to her question but instead of providing one, Isaac gave a sharp whistle and a large dog of an unidentifiable breed, with an unruly coat consisting of about a hundred varying shades of brown, strolled into the room to sit beside him, looking up at its human with what could only be described as pure adoration. Man looked down at dog with open pride.

“Avery, meet Jane,” he said, then gave the canine some sort of hand signal.

Before she could protest, the dog was standing in front of her. She watched, unmoving, as Jane reached out a large, fuzzy paw and stared expectantly up at her with huge brown eyes. The whole thing was so absurdly cute that Avery couldn’t keep a smile from curving at the edge of her lips. Noticing for the first time that she still held her fists defensively in front of her, Avery lowered both hands and reached one out to grasp the offered paw. The warm, soft fur was instantly soothing, but when Jane took back her paw and pressed her large, heavy head against Avery’s thighs, her tail breaking into a slow wag as she waited for her doggie hug to be reciprocated, Avery’s heart caught in her throat.

A wave of emotion swept over her like an evening tide and her knees nearly buckled beneath her. She was suddenly, desperately sad. And oh-so-tired. Tired of being dependent on others to keep her safe when she’d once been so self-reliant. Tired of being locked inside her own head. Tired of being afraid to go to sleep, knowing the nightmares would meet her there like a mugger waiting in the shade of night for his next victim, and tired of feeling crazy when she knew—even if everyone else believed otherwise—that she was not.

She gently pushed the dog away and sat down on the sofa. Jane jumped up, too, but sat a few feet away, as if giving Avery her space. Isaac moved across the room to sit in a chair on the other side of a mahogany coffee table. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at the floor. Avery knew she should keep an eye on him until she could get out of there but her lids felt weighted and she let them slip closed for just a second as she gathered her thoughts.

“How long was I out?” she asked, swallowing, not really wanting to know the answer. Her flashbacks, blackouts, whatever the hell they were, sometimes lasted for hours before she came back around. She hated the loss of control and the resulting feeling of irresponsibility, as though she’d had too much to drink and passed out at the wheel.

She looked up at Isaac, meeting his eyes. In them, she found none of the things she’d expected: pity, irritation, confusion. Instead, they were like deep woods in the middle of the night—quiet, dark, mysterious—but for some reason, she felt safe there. She knew enough to sense menace when it lurked, and so she knew then as sure as she knew her own name and rank that this man was not dangerous.

“About an hour,” he said, his voice smooth like strong coffee. “Took me half of that to get you here. My truck broke down just up the road and my cell had almost no charge left. You were pretty cold when Jane and I got you inside the house, so I covered you with a blanket and plugged in the phone for ten minutes or so. You didn’t seem wounded or anything, but it’s not every day I find people prowling around in the dark, so I figured best thing to do was call the authorities and let them make sure you’re okay and sort you out.”

Isaac paused, brow furrowed, and it seemed he might say more, but then he closed his mouth and looked at her expectantly.

She sifted through his comments, appreciating his effort and the fact that, other than to carry her, he hadn’t handled her any more than necessary; in fact, he seemed wary of being anywhere near her—a thought that touched her heart with the gentlemanliness it bespoke. His simple, strong kindness reminded her of some of the men she’d served alongside, and for a fleeting moment, she missed her comrades.

There had been a time, not that long after returning home, when she would have done anything to forget her tours overseas if it would have helped her blend back in to civilian society. But after being back in Peach Leaf for a few months, newly burdened with the knowledge that such a wish might never come true, she’d begun to long for another deployment, if only for the fact that she didn’t know how to be “normal” anymore, whatever that meant. She didn’t belong in her own world, and she hadn’t truly belonged in that barren, violence-riddled land, so the question was, as always: Where, if anywhere, did she belong?

“You could have left me there, you know,” Avery said. “I didn’t need any help.” The words sounded hollow and impractical even as she spoke them.

“We both know that’s not true,” he answered, his tone thankfully free of judgment.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself to a complete stranger. Even a kind, gentle, admittedly handsome stranger.

“All the same, though,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk home on your own and, as I said, my truck’s out of commission for the night. Is there anyone you can call to—”

“No!” she shouted as her body simultaneously lurched forward a few feet, startling them both. She covered her mouth with her hand, the skin icy against her warm lips.

“Look, if you’re in some kind of dicey situation, it ain’t any of my business, but I can’t let you stay out here alone in the dark, either.

She shook her head and lowered her hand, clasping it between her knees. “No, no, it’s not like that. I’m not... I mean... I just have these episodes sometimes, and occasionally I lose track of where I am.” She stopped abruptly, not really knowing what else to say but thankfully, he didn’t seem to expect much more. Trying to put her problems into words was always a fragile balancing act of saying too little or too much. Even though they appreciated her service, she’d quickly discovered that most people would rather not think or talk about the things that Avery had experienced, and it was hard to describe something she herself didn’t fully understand.

Isaac swallowed and held out his hands, palms up. His face was difficult to read but not hardened, and his expression gave her the idea that he was genuinely waiting to hear what she had to say, who she was, before making his mind up about her. It was refreshing. In her small town, Avery was used to people thinking they knew everything about each other just because they’d racked up some years together in the same place. They made the frequent mistake of assuming that you’d always be who you once were.

“Speaking of,” she went on, struggling to hide her sudden embarrassment at having to ask, “would you mind telling me where we are?”

Isaac’s lids lowered and his mouth relaxed into an easy grin, as if he’d been waiting for her to ask so he could have something helpful to offer. “Sure thing. We’re about two miles outside of Peach Leaf proper, and my house is about half a mile from Ranch Road 64. Closest landmark is Dewberry Farms, my neighbor.”

His neighbor. Her brother.

Avery released an audible sigh of relief that she hadn’t wandered too far from home in her—she looked down, suddenly aware of the goose bumps that had formed a tiny mountain range along her arms—very thin pajamas. Thank goodness she’d been unable to shed the habit of sleeping in her sports bra or she’d have been sitting in a stranger’s living room without a shred of modesty.

“Dewberry is my home, at least for now,” she said, and Isaac nodded, seeming unsurprised. He probably knew her recent history as well as any of the other locals. It said a lot about his character that he wasn’t acting as though that meant he knew her.

“Well, as you know, it’s not far from here. I think I feel well enough to walk back now. If I don’t make it home before everyone wakes up, they’ll be worried, so—” she pointed a thumb in the general direction of the front door “—I should probably get going.”

Isaac held out a hand as she stood. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” She rolled her eyes almost immediately, sitting back down as the inside of her head did another dizzy spin. “I mean, I know why not, but how is it any of your business? I appreciate you helping me, but I’m okay now.”

Isaac shook his head. “For one thing, you’re pale as a ghost, and let’s not forget you were passed out for a solid hour. Plus, pardon my saying so, but you look like you could use some energy if you’re going to walk a half mile, which, for the record, I’d recommend putting off until the sun comes up.”

Avery bit her lip, considering. Everything he said was absolutely right, but she couldn’t risk letting Tommy or Macy find her bed empty again. She wouldn’t put them through that worry another time.

Her brother and sister-in-law had already given her a place to stay and a hell of a lot of support through the lowest point in her life so far, for which she’d never be able to repay them. They said they were glad to do it and they meant well, but Avery wasn’t naive, and she wasn’t blind; she could see the way they looked at her when they insisted she was no imposition, as if they weren’t sure what she might do next, or worse, how her involuntary actions might affect their kids. She could see the way they walked on eggshells around her. The familiar guilt made her empty stomach clench in pain.

She sat back down on the sofa and Jane thumped her tail against the worn fabric. Avery reached over to pet the dog’s soft fur, surprised once again at how comforting it was just to stroke Jane’s broad back. When she gave Jane a few scratches behind her enormous, fuzzy ears and the scruffy mutt closed her eyes in bliss, Avery was pretty sure she’d made a friend for life.

“It makes me feel so calm, petting her.” Avery was surprised to hear herself state the thought out loud, but the combination of the kind stranger’s presence and the silky sensation of the dog’s warm coat made her feel more at ease than she had since she’d been home.

“She tends to have that effect on people. Lots of dogs do,” he said.

Avery looked up to find Isaac beaming with pride, and she noticed again how good-looking he was, in such a different way than the men she’d been attracted to before. His features were less sharp than the square-jawed, light-featured military types she usually preferred. His hair was collar length, wavy and dark, almost black, in the soft glow of lamplight flooding the living room, and his eyes were nearly the same shade of brown. He reminded her of a rakish lord from one of the historical romances she devoured at an incredible pace, one of the few pastimes that allowed her to completely escape the bleak hollows of her own thoughts.

It wouldn’t be inaccurate to describe him as devilishly handsome, she thought, a smile blossoming over her lips before she caught herself and bit the bottom one.

He caught her smiling and she pretended to study Jane’s fur, the heat of a blush rushing to her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt drawn to someone that way, much less blushed over a man, for goodness’ sake. She’d had a few boyfriends before her first deployment, but it always seemed sort of futile to get into something serious when she’d been on active duty, never knowing when she might have to pack up and leave at last-minute notice. Sure, lots of people made it work, as her mother constantly reminded her, probably with visions of more grandbabies dancing through her head, but Avery had seen enough hurt in that area to last a lifetime.

She swallowed against the dull ache that rose in her heart every time the memory of her best friend crossed her mind, at least a thousand times per day—her punishment for being alive when Sophie was not. Sophie, who’d left behind a husband and child who blamed Avery for Sophie’s absence in their lives. It didn’t matter whether it had been Avery’s fault or not—the center of their world was gone, and Avery had been the last one to see her.

It was Avery who’d promised them she’d watch over their wife and mother, and it was Avery who failed to keep that promise.

She felt Isaac’s eyes on her and looked up to meet them.

“You’re right about it not being a good idea to walk back in the dark,” she admitted. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stick around until the sun comes up, then I’ll head back that way.”

If Isaac’s house was as close to Tommy’s as he’d said, it would take her less than ten minutes to jog back at daybreak, and she could slip in the back door and make it into her bed before anyone tried to wake her. Tommy would be making coffee and Macy would be busy with the kids.

He nodded. “Not a problem. If you passed Jane’s character test, then you’re welcome to stick around as long as you need to,” he said, his tone lighter now. “On one condition.”

Avery stopped petting Jane and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Let me cook something for you.”