by Natalie Dean
“Bed?” he repeated.
His brothers reached out cautiously, helping the man to his feet. Now that the worst of it had passed, it seemed that he was about to pass out, all the strength flushed from him. Missy watched, chewing on her lips, as they wrangled him up the porch and into the house.
She stood there, truck still running behind her when she felt soft hands gently pull at her own fingers. Blinking, she realized that Mrs. Miller had walked up to her, all soft smiles in her nightgown.
“Hello dear, why don’t you come in?”
Wait. In? As in, inside the house? Last time that had happened, it hadn’t exactly ended well for her.
“Oh no, that’s fine. I’ll just…” she trailed off, her eyes still on Bart as he rounded a corner and left her vision.
“Please. I think he’d want you here.”
“Okay.” She willed her legs into motion and allowed herself to be pulled along by the matriarch. But as she was led into the house, her worry about herself sort of faded into the background, and her whole mind was centered on one furtive concern.
She just wanted him to be okay.
22
Bart
Consciousness smacked into Bart like he had done something to insult its honor. His heart jumped into his throat, his teeth clamped shut, and his breath hitched before suddenly he was sitting up, covered in sweat.
What had happened? The last thing he remembered, he was having the best date he could have ever hoped for with Missy. But nothing about that memory lead to him being in bed, still dressed in his clothes that were rumpled and a bit damp.
For a moment an idea flashed across his mind, and he looked beside himself to see if Missy was there, wondering if somehow, he hadn’t been the gentleman he had set out to be. He was both relieved and disappointed to see that she wasn’t there.
“Hey, you want a glass of water?”
Stiffly, Bart turned his head to see his brother, Ben, sitting in a chair beside the bed, a pitcher and couple of glasses on the nightstand next to him.
“Ugh. Yes,” he managed to rasp. His mouth felt like he had tried to swallow a whole stick of chalk.
His brother smiled weakly and went about handing him a glass. Bart gulped it down, taking inventory of the situation as he did.
It was daytime now, but still early judging by where the sun was outside his window. Only his brother was present, but he could hear the everyday chatter downstairs.
Setting his glass down, Bart leaned back against his headboard. “What happened?” He tried not to guess, tried not to let his mind cook up a million and one awful ideas about how he ended up in his bed with his clothes still on.
“You had an episode.”
“Ah.” Bart held out the glass for his brother to refill then gulped that down too. “Is this the part where you tell me that I did that after arriving home, having successfully dropped Missy off at her apartment?”
Ben’s lips went thin, and he shook his head. “Sorry. She’s actually the one who brought you here. Drove all the way from the city.”
“I see.”
He knew it was a stilted response, but what was he supposed to say? She’d given him a third chance, and he had blown that too by literally checking right out of reality.
He should have known better. He didn’t deserve a woman like her anyway, all fire and compassion and beauty. He was a fool to think that he even had a chance, that he somehow was enough to take her on those dates she so deserved.
“Hey, are you all right?” Ben asked cautiously, his hand gently reaching out for Bart’s shoulders.
“Yeah. It’s nothing I didn’t expect.”
“Bart—” Ben said reproachfully.
“It’s fine. Really. What other way could it have worked out?”
But he wished it had. She was the first woman he had really seen since he came back. She was something special, a one of a kind soul that he didn’t think he’d ever meet again.
And he had ruined it.
He certainly had a knack for that, didn’t he?
“Look,” Ben said, cutting through his spiraling mood. “Before you delve off that cliff in your mind, how about we eat some breakfast. I’m sure you could use some food in you.”
“Yeah, sure. Moping on a full stomach is better for me anyway, I’m sure.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Bart pushed himself out of bed and followed his brother downstairs. He paused at his door, however, looking down at himself.
“Hey. You go on ahead, okay. I’m gonna change.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Maybe it wasn’t the best time to be alone, but Bart appreciated a few more minutes to gather himself. He felt a sort of despondent apathy in him, but that was about it. He supposed the rest of the feelings of worthlessness —with a side of derision—would come when he was a bit more awake and his failure really sunk in.
He picked a simple T-shirt and some jeans, ran a comb through his hair and then headed down. While food couldn’t really solve his problem, he didn’t see how several helpings of bacon and sausage would hurt.
It was right when he got to the bottom of the stairs that he stopped short, his gaze caught a familiar smile that never failed to make his heart rate speed up.
Missy was sitting at the table with his brothers, chuckling at something that he hadn’t heard. His mind scrambled to figure out what the heck was going on.
She was still in that beautiful dress from last night, her hair mussed from sleep and her eyes still a bit heavy-lidded. Her eyeliner was a little smeared, but to him, she was quite the heavenly sight.
“Missy, what are you doing here?” he heard himself ask far too breathlessly for a grown man.
She looked up at him and beamed so brightly that he was sure that the sun had to be jealous. “Glad to see you’re awake. You better sit down before I eat all the biscuits.”
He sat down at the table across from her, his eyes never leaving her face. She blushed and returned to the food and conversation that had been going on before he had arrived. Bart didn’t contribute, just watching and trying to figure out if this was real life or a very convincing dream.
Eventually, however, even his Ma and Pa were at the table, and everyone was digging in like absolutely nothing was wrong.
Something wasn’t making sense, and for once he was pretty sure that it wasn’t him.
“Ben, I hope you don’t mind giving me an hour or two to go to my place and get changed into something a bit more work appropriate for the rest of the day?” That was Missy, of course, looking up from her plate that was still fairly full of food.
“Oh no, that’s not appropriate at all!” Ma interjected. For a moment Bart felt himself prickle—what, did she want Missy to work in heels and a dress? But then she continued, “You did much for our family yesterday. Take the day off. Paid of course.” Her eyes flicked from Bart to her. “Besides, I feel there might be some things you need to talk about.”
That was putting it lightly.
“Thank you,” Missy said, her cheeks coloring slightly. “I’d like that.”
“Of course, dear. You’re basically family now, so you might as well enjoy it.”
At that, Missy looked right down at her plate and didn’t glance up until the end of the meal.
Which, in Bart’s opinion, couldn’t happen fast enough. He had been itching to talk to her since his mind got over the shock that she was in front of him and didn’t seem to be recoiling in horror.
Going around the table as his brothers helped clear the dishes, Bart almost reached out for her arm but stopped at the last moment.
“May I walk you out?” he asked, his voice sounding strange even to him.
She nodded, looping her arm through his in an echo of their date the previous night. Except then their date hadn’t been colored by him flying off the handle and having another episode right in front of her.
It was an incredibly low bar to be grateful that he hadn’t strang
led her again, wasn’t it?
Of course, it didn’t take long for them to reach the porch and then get to his truck, which was not parked in its usual spot. Curious. But he could ask questions about it later.
“Is it ok if I give you a ride home?” he asked, almost cringing at his hesitance. Why would she want to be alone with him? He had no idea how he had acted during his episode. He vaguely remembered sliding into the darkness as fire rained down all around him, but he guessed that it probably wasn’t anywhere near normal. At all.
But despite all that, she smiled softly at him, her sleepy expression still lingering a bit around her eyes. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Nice? He could work with that.
“All right. Let me go grab my keys. I’ll be right back.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, your brother left them on the seat.”
“He did?” Bart asked, a bit confused.
She nodded. “I drove your truck right up to the porch, you should have seen it. Later, once you were settled and they gave you your medicine, Bradley parked it over here.”
“Ah. I see.”
How embarrassing. But also, impressive that she knew how to drive a stick. Most people didn’t learn that skill nowadays unless they had to.
He walked her to her side and opened the door for her before returning to his side. Hopping in, he started it up and slowly backed out. He wanted to say something to her as they rode along. To come up with some excuse for his blackout, but there really wasn’t an excuse for it.
He’d gone to war as one person and came back different. He was still trying to reunite those two jagged halves, and he wasn’t quite there yet. Although he was going to continue to go to his therapist, continue attending meetups, there were going to be more episodes in the future. That was just the way it would have to be in his journey toward being healthy and whole.
For the moment, that was his reality, and there was no escaping it.
They rode together in silence, the road stretching before them, taking her away from him and back toward safety.
23
Missy
They drove along in silence, Missy not quite sure what to say.
She was well aware that she had seen Bart in quite a vulnerable state for the second time since they’d known each other, and he probably wasn’t the most comfortable with that. When he’d first seen her at the breakfast table, his face had a mix of shock and embarrassment. There was a whole lot to say, but she didn’t know quite how to word it.
But since the night previous, she’d come to a solid conclusion, and she wanted to tell him that. It was hard to find a way to bring it up, and since he was being so silent, she didn’t want to blurt it out like a random thought.
But time was running out because then he was parking, and after that, he was walking her to her door. His spine was stiff again as her arm wrapped around his, but he didn’t flinch away at her contact.
Sweat began to bead at her brow as they grew closer and closer to the door of her building. She needed to get the words out. Just say something, anything! As nice as it would be to wimp out, that wouldn’t be doing right by him.
Finally, they reached the flat landing before the door, and she took a deep breath. But before she could utter a single phrase, Bart was the one who spoke first.
“Some date, huh?”
Huh, she had expected a little more self-deprecation than that. Or him telling her it wouldn’t work between them because of some depressing reason.
“I had fun, actually.”
His eyes seemed to widen at that. “You did?”
She nodded, allowing herself to smile softly. “Yeah. Not bad for a first try.”
There was that slight smirk that she missed so much. “You know what they say, practice makes perfect.”
She let go of his arm and allowed herself to take a step closer to him, crowding him a little. “Are you saying that you’d like to take me on another date?”
The corner of his mouth went up even higher. “Are you saying you want me to take you on another date?”
“Of course. Like I said, I had fun, and you really were the perfect gentleman. My only fear is that I might get spoiled.”
He sputtered for a moment, clearly confused, and she sensed that this conversation was about to get a whole lot less flirty. That was a shame. She was starting to maybe, finally understand the whole flirting business in general.
“I had an episode!”
“I know. I was there.”
“But—I don’t…” he squinted his eyes at her like she wasn’t making sense. Which, she supposed to him, she wasn’t. “How could that be a good date?”
She allowed herself one more tiny half step, and they were almost flush. She could feel his breath on her face again, and it would be so easy to go up on the tip of her toes and make him forget all that pain behind his eyes with a heated kiss.
But that was the easy path, and neither of them needed that.
“It’s fine. You were hurting, and you needed help. That’s like holding it against someone for having an allergic reaction on a date, or an asthma attack. It was a medical emergency, and I am glad that I was there to help. I’ve got enough experience with rescues not to be bothered by something like that.”
He just breathed for several seconds, and she felt like maybe he was ordering his thoughts. “Is that what I am?” he asked, sounding almost terrified of her answer. “A wounded animal lucky enough to have you swoop in and save me?”
Ah. She could see how he might get that impression. Time to kick that out.
“No,” she answered calmly, lifting her arms to wrap around his shoulders. “I’ve never wanted to kiss one of my animals. At least not how I’d like to kiss you.”
His face flushed, no doubt matching hers, and she could feel his broad muscles tensing under her arms. “You want to kiss me again?”
“I do,” she answered before slowly pulling away. “But how about after a fully successful date where we can actually try that whole goodnight kiss at the door thing.”
The resulting grin on his face nearly blinded her. Goodness, he was handsome. God was not playing fair when he made the Miller boys, that was for sure.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he said, his hands coming up to rest on his sides. She could feel his thumbs gently stroking the material of her dress, but he managed not to pull her closer. Which was good, because if he did, she didn’t think she could resist the urge to crash her lips against his own.
“Where do you want to go? And when?” he asked.
“Well, I’m free this Sunday night. I know things close early, but I make a mean lasagna.” She looked up at him, smiling softly. “How do you feel about Italian?”
There was still some part of her, in the very back of her mind, that was worried about trusting him. Trusting anyone. It whispered that she was never meant for romance, and he was going to use her just like everyone else tried to.
But it was easier to drown out that voice now because she’d had a revelation as she’d laid in the Miller’s guest room.
And it was that—even though he was obviously attracted to her—he saw her as a person. As Melissa Dominic. He saw her personality. He saw her flaws. He made her laugh, and he made her feel safe. While he appreciated her body, it was nowhere near even the top reason why he wanted her close.
And she felt drawn toward him in a way she had never been drawn to anyone else. He put her at ease in a way no one else could, and she found herself dreaming of a future she never thought possible for herself.
Maybe it was too soon to say something like love. Maybe this was just some sort of meet-cute crush. Missy really had no way of knowing, but for the first time in her life, she was willing to take the chance and find out.
“Italian sounds great,” Bart answered, tilting his head down to rest his forehead against hers. And just like she knew he would, he respected her wish not to kiss at that moment. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” she said. “Me too.”
Epilogue
Bart
“Oh, just as a reminder, the Christmas Fundraiser is coming up. Dillon told me that you signed up to help with the event?”
“Yeah,” Bart said, gazing out the window and only half listening. “Is that an issue?”
His therapist sat back, regarding him with a pleasant smile on his face. “Not at all. I just know that you’re not exactly comfortable around large social gatherings. What caused the change of heart?”
“You know exactly what,” Bart said, his eyes not leaving the window. Snow was beginning to fall gently outside, but it didn’t seem to be too thick or clinging. Hopefully, they had another week or so before it got really bad.
“Ah. Miss Dominic again?”
Bart nodded.
“I see. And how is she?”
“Good,” he answered shortly. “Perfect. Beautiful. Crazy for being with me. You know, the usual.” He managed to pry his eyes from the window and gave his therapist a wan smile. “She’s cooking half of the food for the fundraiser with Ma. I swear, the two of them together are practically unstoppable.”
“I can imagine from what you’ve told me about the two of them.” He chuckled for a moment before regarding his notebook.
Bart liked this guy. He was a vet himself, having gotten out maybe seven or so years before Bart did, and used his GI bill to finish his schooling for therapy. Or whatever was the official degree that led to becoming a shrink. He didn’t seem out of touch and scholarly like the stereotype but had a calm sort of collectedness to him that Bart wished he had.
“Before we wrap up, can you tell me what the significance of this date is?”
Bart eyed him curiously, quickly going through things in his head. It wasn’t a family member’s birthday, and certainly not Missy’s. He’d bought her a weekend getaway to a spa in the city, along with one of his girl-cousins that she’d made friends with after working together during the winter. It wasn’t Christmas yet. He really couldn’t think of what was so important.