by Alie Garnett
“You’ve obviously been dating the wrong women.” Her hands slid around him, and he hoped it wasn’t because she thought he would fall down and she would need to hold him up.
“Oh? And where’s my Dylan, then?” He wanted the words back as soon as he said them. There was no understanding, loving woman for him—he was a lone wolf and always would be.
“Out there somewhere,” she said, but he was too busy thinking out this one. There seemed to be only one Dylan, and his brother had claimed her long ago.
“Can you get back to the bed?” she asked.
“Yes, Doc, I can. I’ve been practicing all day, so I can get out of here by tomorrow.” He reluctantly dropped his arms from around her, letting her take a step away from him.
Looking into her blue eyes, he wondered if she felt the same sparks that were racing through his body. Or was he alone and going insane?
Slowly, he walked back to the bed and sat down with a flourish, just to prove he could.
“Good job.” She sounded like a parent with a three-year-old. “But you need to be more mobile if you expect them to let you out tomorrow.”
They weren’t talking about the hug or the words he’d said. She was back to being the doctor, a position she was comfortable with.
“They’re thinking of putting me up in that swanky place you live in, Doc, at least for a week or so. Less sand.” He had been told this morning, now he wished he had seen the inside of her room because he had no idea what he was getting into. From the rumor he’d heard, it was like a prison, with small rooms and no comfort.
“That is what the ground floor is for,” she said, leaning against the cabinets again.
“Maybe I’ll see you in the bathroom, then.” He grinned at her.
“Nope, those are still separate. Probably won’t see me at all.” She rarely saw anyone around the building. Most people kept to themselves.
“When I get my strength up, I can come to your room, and we can have these conversations at your place.”
“I don’t know how much more you want to know, Captain. It was a long time ago,” she reminded him.
“Did Chase want kids?” His brother had died so young, were kids even on his radar? After all these years, both his other brothers had them now; he was the last holdout.
“Not with me.” Her hands gripped the countertop, turning her knuckles white.
“Because you didn’t want any or because he didn’t want any?” he asked since her answer didn’t seem right. Not after yesterday's talk of the love and devotion that they had.
“I didn’t want kids; I knew that even then. It was something we were still talking about, but only because he wasn’t going to change my mind.”
“Because you can’t?”
“Because I won’t. I was raised in an abusive home. I carry the gene; I’m not abusing my children.”
“It’s not a gene, Dylan.”
“Whatever it is, I am prone to it.” She actually looked at her hands, the hands that had saved lives day after day for years, as if they would betray her.
“I don’t see it,” he said, looking at her hands also.
“Ask me about Marquez, not about me, please,” she stated calmly, shoving her hands in her pockets.
“What was his argument with you about your gene? I bet he didn’t believe you either,” he asked her, noticing anger in her blue eyes.
“That was between us, not you.” She folded her arms across her chest in defense. With a sigh, she headed for the door as she said, “Good luck, Captain, and watch out for those bullets. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
“Stay,” he said from his bed, know she was leaving and not coming back.
“I have things I need to do before work tomorrow.” She didn’t turn back to him.
“Can I at least hug you goodbye?” he asked, his arms were still tingling from when he had held her tight the first time.
“No, Holden. Get well soon.” She was out the door before he could stop her. Out the door and out of his life. He had pushed too far, and she had bolted. As usual, he’d let his mouth get in the way.
Chapter 9
“And then Ryan dumps the fish tank over my sister Kim’s head. Thank God it wasn’t Todd’s mother.” Elissa had tears running down her face as she told the story about her kid’s antics. It was a wonder the man let her leave him alone with the beasts, and there were only two of them.
“At least the fish was already dead.” Dylan grinned at her friend.
Elissa was laughing again. “Can you imagine the fish in all that?”
“I’m glad everyone is still in good spirits; only a few more weeks for you.” Dylan tried to not let it hurt that she was losing a friend…again.
No matter where she was, stateside or here, people were always coming and going. Staff was never static. When Elissa left, someone would be there to replace her—probably not as fun, but hopefully just as competent because more important than a friend, she needed staff she could count on.
Elissa was again leaning against her desk. This time, it was mid-shift, and the OR had settled down. They didn’t get a lot of overnight injuries; more happened in the morning than any at other time of the day.
“A little bird told me you were here for a visit with a patient during your time off.” Elissa was reading a folder on a soldier who was being sent home in the a.m.. Head injury.
“It isn’t what you think,” Dylan told her. She didn’t want Elissa thinking it was about sex.
“I think you like him, which is perfectly fine. I mean, he is an amazing hunk of a man. I can only imagine what he’s like between the sheets.” Elissa didn’t look up from her folder.
“You are getting way too much phone sex, my friend, so get your mind out of the gutter. We happen to have a mutual friend, and he was asking me questions about that person.”
“Was it me? Did you tell him I was married? It probably broke his heart. Did you pick up the pieces? Tell him how free you are. I mean, second choice isn’t all that bad.” Elissa snapped the folder shut with a chuckle.
“Always about you. But anyway, he’s been discharged and is gone. I hope he takes care of his leg.” She tried to concentrate on her paperwork—even on a slow shift, there was a lot of it.
“Two days’ worth of talking?” Elissa kept probing.
“One day of talking. The other was a waste of time. We don’t really get along,” she admitted. There was too much of a past between them, even if they had spent more time together now than ever.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun. I mean, you can fuck him without liking him, right?” Elissa, Ms. I’ve only slept with one guy, asked innocently.
“I am not sleeping with him,” she stated sternly.
“Come on, Dyl, how is he any different from the other guys? Dr. Narcissist? You slept with him. And that sniveling corporal with the bad teeth? You did him. But this guy, who even I think is hot, is off limits?” Elissa argued.
“Due to our mutual friend.”
“Is your mutual friend going to get pissed? Hate you both forever? Call out a vendetta against you?” Elissa read too much, and her taste in books leaned toward the mafia. Sometimes, it showed.
“He’s dead.”
“See, no hurt feelings. Just do what you want—the dead guy will never now.”
“But I’ll know,” she reminded her friend.
“And you also want him. I can tell when you want something, and you want him. You don’t visit patients, and never three times. What is it about this guy? Unless you saw his weewee?” She grinned.
“You would think that after nearly a year here, you would start using actual terms for body parts.”
“Fine, his cock, Dr. Smarty Pants,” she said as both their phones chimed at once. Without a word, both left the office and the fun behind—it was time to work.
A couple of hours and two surgeries later, Dylan finally headed home to her barracks room that had no personality and no real comfort. Her
shift had ended up running long again, and she was feeling it. Once the adrenaline had worn off, she was exhausted.
Heading toward the stairs, she suddenly heard her name being called. Turning, she saw Holden leaning against an open door frame, as if he were waiting for her. What? There’s no way he could have known I was coming home now.
“Captain.” She stopped and turned to him. He was back in fatigues topped with an Army T-shirt that matched hers, but his molded to his broad chest and arms. He didn’t look gray or white, he looked normal. Like he hadn’t been shot a few days before.
“Didn’t think I would see you around here,” he said casually.
She pointed up. “Just got off shift. Heading home.”
“And you have to pass my room to get there.” He grinned as he jerked his chin toward the room behind him.
“I guess I do. Hope you’re enjoying the warm, comfortable accommodations.” She looked past him at the sparse room beyond.
“It’s definitely more like a prison than a home, but with much less sand than I’m used to.”
“We still get the desert creatures, though, so watch out,” she warned and turned to get home. As uncomfortable as it was, her bed was calling to her.
“Can we talk for a moment?” His words stopped her.
“We don’t talk well, Captain.”
“It’s Holden, and just for a minute.” He gestured for her to enter his room.
Rolling her eyes at the idea, she went anyway; sleep could wait a minute or two. His room seemed immediately different than hers. His manly woodsy smell, even here in the desert, was everywhere.
“Sit.” She gestured at the bed. Coming out of surgery, nobody was as strong as they liked to think they were.
“You first,” he challenged her.
Hesitantly, she sat on the bed, knowing he would have to fix it when she left. The bed was just like hers, made in the exact same way. Oh, the Army life.
“Okay, fine. I’m sitting,” she stated and watched him sit on the other end. He sighed as he lowered himself down on the bed. He wasn’t even close to 100% yet.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry I pushed you. Your stuff is your stuff. I’ll try not to do it again. Next time, just tell me to shut up—maybe I’ll take the hint.” He grinned at her because they both knew he would pry, and she would get mad.
“I’ll accept your apology, but only because I’m tired and have no fight in me right now,” she admitted.
“A weak moment? Doc Dylan had a weak moment?” he asked her playfully.
“Happens to the best of us, Captain.”
“It’s Holden, and I think I’ll take advantage of your weak moment,” he said with a wink, then grabbed her shoulders and started massaging them.
“I should get home,” she murmured, not getting up because then he would stop.
“You’re a tense woman, you know? How about as an apology, I give you a massage and then send you to bed? It’ll be the most relaxing sleep you will get while here.” His hands didn’t stop, but somehow guided her so she was face-down on his bed, purring in contentment.
Holden was sending wave after wave of heat through her body, and with his smell surrounding her, she surrendered to the amazing things his hands were doing. Soon, exhaustion finally won out, and she fell asleep on his bed.
Chapter 10
Holden knew the moment she fell sleep, as all the tension in her body vanished. It wasn’t gradual; it was simply there, then gone. He kept rubbing her back and shoulders anyway because he couldn’t stop himself.
He didn’t know if she was having a particularly rough shift, but today, she was stressed. The exhaustion had her guard down though, leading her to his room instead of fighting him.
He decided to let her sleep for a while, forcing his hands to stop touching her. He wasn’t using his bed, anyway. After unlacing her boots and pulling them off, he found an extra blanket and draped it over her body. Even in the climate-controlled building, there was no way to keep all the heat out, but he felt better with her under the blanket.
Sitting in the lone, uncomfortable chair, he watched her sleep for a while. Her loose brown hair tumbled around her, still slightly damp. He realized she must shower at the hospital before coming home to sleep. As his mind went instantly to her naked in the shower, she groaned in her sleep and rolled onto her side, facing away from him. The blanket moved slightly, and he got up and fixed it so that it was covering her more. Not at all because it gave him an excuse to touch her shoulder or her hair.
He was turning into a pervert for this one woman, the one woman he couldn’t have. He knew that, even if his dick wasn’t on the same page as him.
Eyeing the chair, he wanted to sit and watch her more, making sure she stayed comfortable, but he forced himself out of the room. He didn’t know how long she would sleep, but he was sure it was going to be hours.
The sun had set by the time he finally let himself back into his room. He fully expected her to be gone, to have roused enough over the past few hours to go to her room. But she was still in his bed, almost exactly where he had left her, except her head was now snuggled into his pillow, and the blanket was on the floor.
On the floor were also her camo pants and socks. Quietly, he went over and picked them up, folding them and placing them on his dresser. All the while trying to ignore that she was sleeping in his bed in only her T-shirt and red lace panties. Not a distraction at all.
Picking up the blanket, he began folding it as another scrap of clothing tumbled to the floor. Somehow, she had done the lady magic thing of taking off her bra, but not her shirt. Had she done that in her sleep?
“Dyl, it’s time to get up.” He shook her shoulder lightly because if he picked any other location on her gorgeous body, his hand would stray.
Her only answer was a mumble about it being hot, and she rolled away from him. Trying again, he shook her shoulder and said her name again. This time, she opened her eyes and sat up. Dylan said nothing as she looked around his room.
“Time to go home,” he said again as she looked right at him, then fell back into the pillow behind her—sound asleep.
Clearly, there was no waking her. Her body needed sleep, and it was getting it no matter what, so he sat down again. For the next hour, she didn’t move; not a hair, not anything. He knew that he couldn’t sleep in a chair; he was exhausted himself.
He could sleep on the floor, which was concrete and didn’t even have a carpet over it, or sleep with her. Based on her state, she wasn’t getting up anytime soon.
His two options were to go to her room and sleep in her bed or crawl in with her in his. But he wouldn’t getting any sleep with her inches from him. He was already having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.
He found her keys in the pocket of her pants. They were on a keychain made by some kid from Picard string in red, white, and blue. He was sure it had been sent in a care package she randomly received at some point from a school sending stuff to soldiers. Holden smiled as he left the room, knowing that a kid somewhere in the States had no idea his or her soldier was still using the keychain they’d made.
Holden climbed up three flights of stairs and unlocked her door, then left it ajar as he brought the keys back to her and put them back in her pocket. If she thought they were gone, she might not just head home, but start looking for them.
Back up the stairs, he let himself into her room, a carbon copy of his. In fact, she had little that distinguished the room she had been in for almost two years from the one he had been in for two days. The desk had a pile of papers and there was an e-reader plugged in on it, all perfectly straight. He couldn’t see any pictures or letters.
Without stopping himself, he opened the two desk drawers. Both were empty, save for a couple of pens.
Dresser drawers were just perfect stacks of clothing; straight lines and order. The closet was the same, except for a shoe box on the top shelf. The box had been smashed a few times, making it seem out of place.
He wanted to see if she had anything of Chase’s in the box, so he pulled it off the shelf. It was full of letters. Looking at the return addresses, some had a kid’s handwriting on them, and some had been sent from Minneapolis.
Holden chose a letter at random and picked it up. It was from someone named Janet Dylannski Reed and had been sent seven years before. It was unopened, as were almost all the letters, all still sealed shut by whoever cared enough to send her a letter. All the letters from Janet were addressed to Jessica Dylannski. Not a one had Marquez on it or Doctor or Major, just her name. Except one, the one that said Jess.
It suddenly hit him that she was still estranged from her family, but that they wanted her back. He wondered what had happened to keep her away from them for twenty years, but they still wrote, a lot. Would someone who abused her really keep writing?
After putting the box back on the shelf, he shed his clothes because it was even hotter up on the higher floors. Down to his boxers, he slid into her bed and rolled onto his side. He looked at her clean bedside table and thought, She keeps herself distant from everything. All she had was her work, and she was pushing herself too hard with that. What happened if she broke?
He must have fallen asleep instantly, because the next thing he knew, the door to the room opened. It was still dark, and she didn’t turn on the light when she came in.
He knew he should’ve said something, but when her pants hit the ground, he was speechless. All he could do was watch as she folded them and put them in the drawer with the other ones just like it. Then she tossed the socks and bra she was carrying in a laundry bag.
She was getting ready for bed just by the light of the moon. The same moon that was giving him a show he shouldn’t be watching. Shouldn’t be enjoying.
As she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, he finally cleared his throat, letting her know he was there. Her stifled scream ended in a curse.