by Kay Lyons
"So what are you in the mood for?"
Did she want to sit through a meal with him? Want to stare across the table from him like couples did, even though they weren't and never would be?
This may be your only chance.
Truth be told, just once she'd like the experience. To be out with Grayson like a normal couple on a normal date. Before having to say goodbye because she was a hypocrite and couldn't share the big thing now in her life that was so devastating. "I… know a good hot dog and burger place. It's down by the waterfront."
The next mile and a half didn't take long, and minutes after parking, Grayson went inside the restaurant to place their order while she and Tank walked toward the water. Southport was busy with end-of-season travelers, but she spotted an older couple leaving a swing and picked up her pace to snag the prime spot.
Tank settled in on the ground in the shade behind the swing, and she wished she'd thought to ask Grayson to get a bottle of water for Tank. Now she'd have to wait until Grayson appeared to go get one.
Her phone went off and she glanced at the text.
Where are you? I dropped by the garage and you didn't answer. You okay?
London never came to the garage. And seeing as how the coffee and cookies had come from London's Lattes, she wondered how much her sister knew. Not working today, she texted.
Well, obviously. Are you okay? I'm worried about you.
Tank’s favorite dog treats were a bit much, don't you think?
Silence. The three little dots indicating London typed came and went multiple times but a message didn't appear. Finally the dots appeared again and then—
I'll leave you be but call me ASAP! I mean it!
Frankie inhaled and sighed, wondering how twenty-four hours could change so much.
"Nice spot."
She looked up to find Grayson approaching with their food and drinks—and a bottle of water and empty cup for Tank. He was a considerate liar if nothing else, she mused. Oh, she knew she was being harsh, because people made mistakes. She'd made plenty herself and would make so many more before her life was over, but lying about a wife was a pretty big one, right? "Thanks," she said, reaching for her bag to grab some cash.
"If you're doing what I think you're doing, stop."
"This isn't a date. You're not paying for my lunch."
"It's a hot dog—and I still owe you for the money you paid the kid for the taillight cover."
The kid? "So you don't think it was your son?"
Grayson settled onto the swing beside her and began pulling their hot dogs and onion rings from the bag. "It probably was given the way he's acted out since Daria's death but… I don't know, something kept me from accusing him."
"A kid was in London's two days ago. I caught him stealing birthday presents for his girlfriend."
"Did he have a name?"
"He said Joey, but I got the feeling it was a fake."
"Chris's girlfriend has a birthday party today. That's where he's at now."
She stared at Grayson, wondering if it was possible they weren't talking about the same kid. That was a pretty big coincidence but look at the two of them. Things happened.
Grayson met her gaze and apparently came to the same conclusion.
"Joey, huh?"
"London offered to let him work off the cost of the items but she said when he came in the next day, he paid her cash, took the stuff, and left."
"Let me guess—this took place after your guy paid cash for the part?"
She winced and shrugged.
"That would be a pretty big coincidence."
"Who knows? But she can't be the only teenage girl on the island having a birthday today, so maybe it is."
Grayson stared out at the sun sparkling off of the Atlantic, the hot dog seemingly forgotten in his large hands.
"What did the kid look like? Joey."
She described him and watched as Grayson's expression became even more grim. "I'm not helping, am I?"
"It's not your fault. I'd like to see one of the pictures London took of the kid, though."
Frankie texted London with the query along with a don't ask and London quickly texted back and Joey's face filled her screen. "There. That's him."
Grayson took the phone and forwarded the picture to a number she didn't recognize but guessed to be his. Which means he now has yours. Oh, is this a good idea? "That's him, huh?"
"Yeah."
She could see the pain the news caused Grayson. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too. He's… Christopher's had a hard time. His entire life, I was gone more than I was home, and now he's… a stranger. I'm a stranger. We butt heads at every turn. I didn't know he'd resorted to stealing, though."
"Hey, there's still a chance that he didn't get the money from the part. That could've been a different kid."
"Maybe. Chris said he'd found a stash of birthday money he'd forgotten about. But you caught Chris trying to steal the stuff first."
"Yeah, but he didn't seem like a pro to me. He was too nervous. Too obvious about it. Maybe he had a momentary lack of judgment and, when he found the money, went to London's to make good."
"Maybe."
"I… could pull my security footage," she offered. "See if the cameras got a shot of the kid. I had the system installed after one of my mechanics ripped me off. It's so new I forget it's there sometimes, but the feed records on the system at my house."
"That'd be great. We can look when we get back."
We? She'd meant that she would look but— "Uh…"
Grayson uncovered his wrapped hot dog and took a bite, and she did the same, finally getting around to feeding her noisy stomach.
"Man, these are good. That sauce is amazing."
She nodded and smiled, wondering how something as simple as a hot dog on the swing beside Grayson could feel so—
"Hey, Tank. Sorry, buddy. Here."
She turned her gaze away from the water to find Grayson opening the water bottle she'd forgotten about. He poured Tank a half a cup that the dog eagerly lapped up. "Thank you."
"No problem. He's a good—"
Boom!
Frankie scrambled off the swing toward the trees behind them, hunkering down as she searched for insurgents. Her heart pounded, racing in her chest when a boom sounded again, though not as loud.
"Frankie?"
She huddled on the ground, back against the base of a large tree. Tank approached and she grabbed the dog and pulled him across her lap, trying to make them both as small as possible to avoid getting hit by the—
Grayson.
People.
A few of them stared at her.
Whispered.
Dizziness engulfed her, and she leaned her head forward against Tank's panting body, feeling him shake almost as strongly as she did.
"Frankie?"
Tears flooded her eyes and burned but she refused to let them fall. She squeezed them tight, rubbed the excess moisture away on Tank's fur.
She swallowed hard and finally lifted her head, although she couldn't meet Grayson's gaze. He was a physician's assistant. Ex-military. No doubt he knew what he'd just witnessed.
Grayson approached her and Tank growled and bared teeth.
"Hey, buddy. Hey, it's okay. Just me."
He squatted down so that he was at eye level with her, but other than a quick glance, Frankie couldn't hold his gaze. He'd seen her mad scramble for shelter. And while she'd responded to a few things in the past, she'd somehow avoided reacting around family or friends, mostly by steering clear of anything that included fireworks or live ammo or noises that made her think bomb.
"Frankie, talk to me."
Tank's growl grew stronger and Frankie's entire body shook with the adrenaline rush now fading to shock.
"Frankie," Grayson said, his tone sharper than before. "Control your animal, soldier."
People were moving closer, and Tank was eyeing them all, growling because he reacted to her fear. If someone got hurt because of her…
She shifted her trembling hand from Tank's shoulder to his neck, not stopping until she turned the dog's muzzle toward her. She met Tank's gaze. "Nein," she said softly, her voice quaking. "Nein, ruhig," using German to tell Tank no and quiet. "Vol-no." Relax, she repeated to herself. "Vol-no. Good boy."
Tank immediately stopped growling at her words, but he trembled as badly as she did due to what had just happened. She began soothing the dog in a sad attempt to soothe herself. Would there ever be a day when a loud bang wouldn't be so terrifying?
A few seconds passed as she petted the dog, focusing on her breathing to try to bring it under control. She vaguely heard Grayson speaking softly to an older gentleman who approached him to ask if he could help, and wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. The man walked away and she had Grayson's full attention again.
"Frankie?"
"I'm good." She couldn't meet his gaze. Didn't want to see what she knew she'd see. "I-I'm good."
"I know. You want to go home?"
She nodded. Home. She wanted her dark bedroom and the weighted blanket recommended by her docs. Tank's big body in bed beside her. Thankfully she didn't have this type of reaction often, but when she did, it left her so depleted and exhausted she actually was able to sleep. Until the dreams kicked in and the cycle of stress and sleeplessness began again.
Grayson straightened, and after a moment, she pushed herself up the tree, uncaring that the bark scraped her back. Tank didn't growl but pressed his body against her calf, maintaining protective contact. She leaned heavily against the tree trunk until the ground stopped spinning.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes."
She could walk. She just couldn't stop shaking. It was humiliating. One step made her feel like a baby animal taking its first steps. "What— What was the n-noise?"
"Doesn't matter."
"What was it?"
Grayson inhaled.
"Construction up the street. A truck dumping its load by lifting and dropping the bed."
For the love of… Seriously? She'd made a complete fool of herself over a dump truck?
"Come on. Let's go." He held out his hand.
She took a step on her wobbly legs and prayed they held her up. They hadn't parked far away, but every step was an effort in concentration to keep her knees from buckling. Grayson's grasp on her elbow was firm, supporting.
Finally they got to his large truck and he opened the back door.
"Frankie, I don't want a dog bite here. Help me out."
She blinked, only then realizing Tank had his hackles up.
"Tank, fuss," she said so he would heel. "Friendly."
Grayson slowly bent and gently petted Tank for a few seconds before he cradled the shaking dog in his arms to lift him into the truck. Frankie stood there watching, weaving on her feet because she felt disconnected from her body.
When Tank was safely inside, Grayson opened her door, but she took one step toward the step bar and stopped. She honestly didn't think she had the strength or ability to get in.
Grayson must have guessed at her thoughts, because he bussed a kiss over her head before sweeping her up into his arms and depositing her on the seat. He yanked the seat belt from the base and wrapped it over her front, clicking it into place at her hip.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her mind flying back in time, envisioning the blast and the pain and the blood where his hands were now. A shudder rolled over her, the deafening sound. The ringing in her ears.
"You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re home now. It’s okay."
Home. Yeah, she'd come home, but now they both knew she'd left a big part of herself in that desert.
Chapter 8
Grayson blasted the air to cool Frankie's too-hot and trembling frame and let her have some silence to regroup after what had just happened.
He knew PTSD when he saw it. The question was what had she encountered to cause it and when? Maybe he should've done a little more digging when he'd searched online.
Frankie had mentioned Tank's injury and how she'd come by the dog, but now he wondered if her choosing the animal had more to do with her own PTSD issues than simply wanting to help the dog live out the rest of his life with honor as a four-legged soldier.
He drove the two miles back to the ferry line for the return trip. Frankie had her eyes closed, face toward the window, but he knew she wasn't asleep. Once he'd paid the fare and took his place in the marked lane to board, he cleared his throat. "I talked the entire way over here. It's your turn now."
She didn't respond.
"Frankie, I'm not giving up. And while I hate whatever it was that left you dealing with reactions like that, you know I get it. So talk to me. What happened?"
Nothing.
His hands tightened over the wheel but he heard her take a breath. The sound shattered him because it was such a shaky, shuddering inhalation.
"Roadside bomb. A convoy ambush. It was… We were pinned down for quite a while."
"Casualties?"
"Four. Two bled out at the scene and two later."
He'd treated more battle wounds than he wanted to think about, so he had an idea of what she'd seen. "I'm sorry."
"It's all part of it. I knew that when I signed up."
Being willing to sacrifice for your country was one thing but having to do it another. PTSD wasn't something to be taken lightly, nor should she be dealing with it on her own. "Do you see a counselor? Are you part of a group?"
He glanced at her in time to catch the wince that momentarily marred her beautiful features.
"I did. At the hospital in Germany. Not here."
"Frankie—"
"What? I'm busy. You think it's easy to run a business and work the way I do?"
"I think you can make time for something that will help you. You need to talk about what happened."
"No one needs to know that about me here."
"Why not? It means you're human."
"It means I'm crazy… or at least that's what a lot of people think when a sudden noise makes me jump through the roof o-or hide behind a freaking tree. They'd stop seeing me and start wondering if they're in danger because I know how to use a gun."
Grayson reached across the expanse and took hold of her hand. "Do you think your family wouldn't understand? Your father?"
During one of their many chats overseas, she'd told him about her family and her colonel father, every word full of praise and admiration.
"He'd understand but he'd also blame himself. Feel responsible somehow. I don't want that."
She tried to protect them, at cost to herself. "I'm glad you told me."
"I didn't tell you," she muttered. "I made a fool of myself and you saw it."
She closed her eyes again and he let her retreat. For the time being. At the moment, he was content with holding her hand until the last of the adrenaline shakes faded, and he drove them onto the ferry.
The ferry got underway, and after a while, her breathing changed, deepened, and he could tell she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep. He didn't release his hold but was content to stare across the expanse of the truck. There were plenty of beautiful women in the world, but he'd never met one who fascinated him as much as Frankie. Smart, beautiful, funny. She cared for her fellow man and worked to make the world a better place. She was the whole package.
Once they approached the ferry landing, he pulled out his phone and used an app to order them food. Frankie needed to eat and sleep, and he was going to see that she got both.
The alert asking passengers to return to their cars woke Frankie from her doze and she blushed when she found him watching her.
"Well, that's humiliating," she said.
"You're exhausted. When was the last time you slept through the night?"
"I-I sleep. Just not much."
"Well, you'll be happy to know there was no snoring except for Tank's. He's just as drained as you after the shakes wore off."
Frankie glanced at the dog
in the backseat before turning her attention to him.
"Wow. We're a fun party, aren't we?"
He laughed at her dry tone and lifted her hand to his lips. "We only got a bite of those hot dogs, so I ordered some dinner. I'll pick it up on the way to your place."
"I need to get my Jeep."
"It can wait. You're still shaky." He ignored her disgruntled glare and drove off the ferry to make the turn toward Carolina Cove.
"Shouldn't you… I don't know, go check on your son?"
Grayson didn't want to think of Christopher as a thief, but if he was… "Nothing I do right at this moment is going to change things if he is the one who sold that part to your guy. I'm furious enough about him trying to steal from your sister, so right now might not be the best time to confront him. It'll happen, though. Trust me."
Right now he needed to focus on the kick in the gut he'd had standing by so helplessly while watching Frankie melt down. It had torn him in two. He hated that she struggled but hated it more that she did so alone.
He stopped by the restaurant and picked up their order, and Frankie reluctantly gave him directions to her house after he refused a second time to drop her off at the garage. Her post-episode exhaustion presented itself in numerous ways, and even though she'd probably be fine behind the wheel, he didn't want to take any chances on her reflexes not being what they should.
He pulled up to her condo complex and parked in a visitor's spot. "Nice place."
"Yeah. I lucked into it as a temporary off-season rental when I got out of the military, and the couple have let me stay on full-time."
Grayson retrieved Tank from the back of the truck and fell into step beside Frankie as she walked to an elevator carrying the bag of food.
"Sixth floor," Frankie said when they were inside and he was closest to the buttons.
He snagged the bag from her hands, searching her face. Frankie looked spent. Between the shadows beneath her eyes and the way her shoulders drooped, he wondered if he shouldn't pry into her medical history some more. See if she had medication to help her sleep? Something for anxiety?
Moments later they stood outside Frankie's door. Her fingers still shook slightly as she tried to put the key in the lock. "Let me."
He closed his hand over hers to steady her and heard her sharp inhalation because of how he stood behind her, cradling her from behind.