Dawn's Early Light

by Jessica Scott

  She reached for him again. Rested her palm on his shoulder, acutely aware of the damage and the black ink beneath the cotton. “Then be who you are.”

  Chapter 12

  “THE PROBLEM IS I don’t know who that is anymore.”

  If he had given the words a moment of thought, he would have never confessed his ragged insecurity so easily. But everything had always been easier with Hayley.

  “Then maybe you need to take some time to figure it out.” She slid her palm from his shoulder.

  “I don’t even have a job.”

  She opened his truck door and slipped her hand into his, tugging him out of the vehicle. He let her guide him. “Why don’t you go talk to the principal? We need a new high school baseball coach. Remember what I said about the State Championships?”

  “I wouldn’t know the first thing about coaching a bunch of kids.”

  He closed the door and stood a little closer than he probably should have. He was drawn to her and needed to stand in her circle of the warmth.

  She was a bright spot in his life. A light in the darkness that he hoped would lead him…home. Not to the place. But to the feeling of finally leaving the war behind.

  He touched her side. Gently. Hesitantly. He wasn’t going to push either of them too fast.

  He owed it to her to be better than the boy he’d been.

  “Thanks for coming tonight,” he said when the silence settled between them.

  She lifted one shoulder. “I can’t stay too long. My dog is pregnant.”

  “What kind of dog?”

  “Lab,” she said. “I donate her pups. The inmates raise them as service dogs for veterans.”

  She told him about the charity as they headed into the town hall. An American flag swayed in the breeze over the porch steps and loud music spilled out into the night, mixing with the noise of the crowd.

  On the steps he turned to face her. The light from the town hall washed over her skin, bathing her in a soft glow. “That’s…how did you get tied into that?”

  She looked away and he was no longer sure he was on solid footing with her. “After my dad died and…everything, I tried to find something to do that made sense. Lilly is a great dog, and it’s something I can do to give back. You know, to fix things.”

  The hurt was raw in her voice.

  Because he could do nothing less, he reached for her. Cupped her cheek and drew her face to his. “I think it’s amazing,” he whispered. “Your dad would be proud of you.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” She pressed her cheek into his palm. “Now let’s put aside the depressing conversation and go mingle with your family. You have people waiting for you.”

  “You’ll protect me from them?”

  She patted his cheek. “You’ve been to war, honey. I’m sure you can survive your family.”

  They stepped into the chaos before Cam could answer. His family swarmed around him and pulled him away from Hayley, his source of sanity.

  He was hugged and thanked and hugged some more by aunts and second cousins and uncles and distant relatives twice removed. The whole damn county was here.

  “Going to buy a raffle ticket?”

  He turned at the familiar voice. The same friendly golden eyes he remembered were looking back at him.

  “Ms. Barbara,” he said, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

  His eleventh-grade English teacher enveloped him in a warm hug. She was the reason he was even remotely literate. She’d pulled him into her class one day and given him the once-over for screwing around. She’d threatened to have him kicked off the baseball team if he didn’t get his grades up and when he’d confessed he was having trouble with the rules of grammar, she’d tutored him on the side.

  She’d been his favorite teacher ever since.

  “What are you selling?” he asked.

  “Couple of raffle baskets. All the money goes to the memorial fund.”

  A green and black and gold quilt was draped neatly over a chair near the table. “Who made that?”

  “Ms. Carmen and Ms. Eugenia at the library’s sewing club. They gathered images from all different wars we’ve had people from our town fight in.”

  He lifted one edge of the quilt and found himself staring down at a black-and-white photo of a squad of serious black men. They looked so young and so damn proud of themselves. He could see himself in their eyes. Young soldiers never changed, no matter the war. “Buffalo Soldiers?”

  “Yes, sir. We had a whole platoon of young men serve from the local area. And you see we’ve got West Point colors on there, too. We’ve sent three students there in the last few years. Even a girl who wants to go into the infantry.”

  “I’ll buy a dozen,” he said, handing her money for the tickets.

  “Quit trying to lowball Ms. Barbara.”

  Cam turned and was yanked into yet another embrace he didn’t mind. His uncle smelled like tobacco and sunshine, like he’d spent an afternoon on the porch, swinging and smoking.

  “Oh, man. It’s good to see you, Uncle Richie,” Cam said.

  “You, too, you little bastard. How the hell come I had to wait two days for you to show up?”

  He told his uncle about the kitten interlude. “Ah, so you had an excuse to see Hayley, huh?”

  “It’s not like I planned to find the kitten,” Cam mumbled.

  “Yeah, well the universe has a way of making things work out.” His uncle squinted up at him from behind his Coke-bottle glasses. “And how are things working out?”

  “She hasn’t tried to stab me with her scalpel, so I suppose that counts as progress.” Cam shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “If you haven’t pissed her off yet then you’re not trying hard enough.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m trying to win her back, not drive her away.”

  “A little quick for that, isn’t it?” Uncle Richie handed him a red plastic cup full of spiked punch.

  “One thing I learned in Iraq is that you can’t count on tomorrow.”

  Richie raised his cup silently and Cam tapped his to it in a somber salute. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Chapter 13

  SHE DIDN’T MAKE a habit of eavesdropping, she really didn’t. But hearing her father’s name stopped her from approaching Cam and his uncle where they stood, shoulder to shoulder in the moonlight.

  “You sleeping?”

  “I don’t. Not much, anyway.”

  “You need to get that fixed,” Richie said gruffly. “Hayley’s dad stopped sleeping well before…well, you know how Steve’s story ended.”

  Hayley had a soft spot in her heart for her father’s best friend. Richie was one of the few steady people in her life, ever since her father had died and Cam had left her.

  “Yeah, well, I’m trying. The VA isn’t exactly quality medical care.”

  “Don’t really give a shit about your excuses. You make them fix you.” Richie folded his arms over his chest and looked out over the sparkling lights and noise of the county fair. “I don’t want to lose you like we lost Steve. I need you to ask for help if you need it.”

  “You couldn’t have saved him.”

  “Bullshit.” Richie’s voice was raw now, ragged with the wounds from a long-ago war. “I didn’t pay attention.” He paused and took a long pull from his drink. “I was so wrapped up in my own bullshit, I didn’t see what was going on with him.”

  Hayley’s heart ached in her chest.

  There was a long silence before Cam spoke. “You don’t believe that.”

  Richie jabbed his finger into Cam’s chest. Hayley knew from firsthand experience how hard that finger could be, pushing in the right direction through sheer force of will. “I damn sure do. So I don’t care what you have to do, you get this sleep problem fixed, you hear me?”

  Cam scoffed quietly. “Sure thing, Uncle Richie.”

  “Don’t take that smart-ass tone with me. I lost my best friend to a stupid fucking war. He didn’t die by the
enemy’s hand, but he’s a casualty just the same.” He looked up at Cam. “You can bet your ass I’m not going to repeat that mistake.”

  He took a step off the back porch and disappeared into the crowd wandering through the fair. It took Hayley a long moment to summon the courage to interrupt Cam’s solitude.

  She told herself he needed a moment after the intensity of Uncle Richie’s rant. It had nothing to do with the lump in her throat or the stark reminder of everything that two wars had taken from her.

  Classic country music crooned into the night as she stepped onto the porch next to him. The moon filled the sky overhead, brilliant and full. It looked as bright as daylight across the field.

  “Your family doesn’t seem bad enough to warrant hiding outside.”

  “Just taking a break,” Cam said much more slowly than usual.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m a little drunk. Uncle Richie spiked my punch.” He glanced over at her. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  She tucked her hands into her back pockets, trying to unpack how she felt about his lowered inhibitions. “I was planning to head home. The days start early for me.”

  “Don’t suppose I can beg you to have mercy and drive me to my place?”

  “I think Uncle Richie should take care of that, seeing how he got you into this condition.”

  Cam shook his head slowly then snagged her pants by the belt loop and tugged her toward him. She could have resisted. But she didn’t.

  She didn’t want to.

  Part of her desperately wanted to see where this would take them. Another part of her needed the human connection that touching him would bring. She went willingly, until their hips touched and thighs brushed.

  She resisted the urge to slip her arms around his shoulders, trying to maintain some faint hint of pride, because the image of Cam swaying slightly in the moonlight was alluring as hell. She rested her hands on his sides, feeling the slow warmth from his body spread through her palms.

  “Please?” he whispered. “I think you need to come to my place and check on my pussy.”

  She nearly choked on her laugh. It took her a full minute to finally breathe right again. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what you meant.”

  His body moved in slow motion as he leaned against one of the beams holding the porch up. It was slow and sexy and lazy. “What? You don’t want to check on my pussy?”

  “Please stop saying that,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “It’s such a strange visual that I really don’t know how to process it.”

  “I’m talking about the kitten.” He widened his eyes, his lips curling slowly. “What did you think I meant?”

  Her smile matched his. It felt good to laugh. To sit there and smile while none of her worries hung over her head.

  He leaned a little closer. Heat plunged between her thighs, spreading through her center; a bright burst followed by a slow burn. Her mouth went dry. “Will you drive me home, Hayley? Keep me safe?”

  She wanted to stay. To move closer to the warmth of his body and the heat from his touch. To turn her neck and feel his lips on her skin.

  But fear was a powerful thing. It kept her rooted in her spot. Kept her from closing the gap between them.

  Kept her from taking the plunge and pressing her mouth to his. She wanted that kiss so badly that every cell in her body ached for him.

  But she couldn’t span the gap.

  And she couldn’t walk away.

  “I’ll drive you home,” she finally whispered.

  His eyes were slits in the darkness. Then he lowered his forehead to hers, swaying a little. “I thought about you,” he whispered. “Over the years when I was gone. I always thought about you.”

  She swallowed, wondering how much of this she might have heard if he’d been sober. It felt like the kind of thing a man—this man, at least—needed to be drunk to admit.

  The weakness. The vulnerability.

  The need.

  If she was honest with herself, it was the need that drew her closer. It had her lifting her hand and cupping his cheek.

  But the words she needed were locked in her throat.

  It hurt when you left me. I was lost.

  She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the moment, not the past.

  I needed you.

  Chapter 14

  HE SUDDENLY DESPERATELY wished they were alone. Unwilling to move away from the warmth of her body, he lifted a hand to cup her face. He wanted to take her away from here, to someplace quiet that would allow him to slowly peel the clothes from her body and explore every single inch of her.

  He groaned a little at the idea of her body pressed to his.

  “What?” she whispered. Her words were a soft caress so close to his mouth.

  “I was just thinking that if you ever agree to sleep with me again, I’ve got a lot of making up to do. I’m pretty sure my performance was pretty terrible when I was eighteen.”

  “I think I’d very much like to see what’s changed.” She made a warm sound.

  Immediately, all the blood left his brain and went straight to his cock. “Well, there goes the chance for any rational thought,” he mumbled.

  “But only once you’re sober,” she said, and laughed again. He realized how easily he could get used to the sound. It was a heady thing, having this kind of impact on a woman—especially this woman. “Any chance you want to get a drink? Maybe walk around the fair before you head home?”

  “I can’t. I really have to get back to my pregnant dog. She’s due any day now.”

  “Is she the lab I saw at the office?”

  “Yeah. Lilly’s kind of special.”

  “All dogs are special,” he mumbled.

  “The rescue kitten seems to suggest you’re a cat person.”

  He scoffed quietly. “Apparently, the universe has a sense of humor. I’ve never been a cat person.”

  “You liked Mongo well enough,” she said.

  “He was different. It’s not every day you find a kitten in a Dumpster. Speaking of which, what ever happened to him?”

  “Despite his trashy start, he’s living a full and robust life. He’s still around, hanging out in my parents’ barn. Never took to domestic life too well.”

  Cam shifted and lowered his hand. It wouldn’t be good if any of his family—and more specifically, his brother—came out and saw him getting a little familiar with Hayley. Then again, their relationship wasn’t any of his brother’s business, but Cam wasn’t trying to do anything that might disturb the peace.

  Cam followed Hayley off the steps toward the dark grass lot that was filled with cars. “Guess he had a hard time, thinking he might get tied down.”

  “Some cats take a while to find their place in life. Mongo was never going to be a domestic little house kitty. We knew that the first time he jumped through the screen window to get a bird.”

  Cam laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. Man, your mom was pissed.”

  He glanced over at Hayley as she swiped a strand of hair from her eyes. “I thought she was going to make me get rid of him. Luckily, I get my soft spot for the walking wounded from her, so she gave him a second chance.”

  “That was a kind thing to do.”

  It was the only phrase he could muster without completely emasculating himself. There was so little kindness in his life at war. The faint slivers of it had never been enough.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” she laughed, brushing it off. They reached his truck and she leaned back against it, next to him, close enough that her shoulders brushed his.

  He turned then, pressing against her in all the places where she was soft. Hidden from the lights of the town hall, he cupped her face, his mouth a breath from hers. “It’s the little things that matter most,” he whispered.

  He kissed her then because he could do nothing less. It was a hesitant brush of his lips against hers, seeking permission to taste and touch.

  He wanted to feel that b
riefest human connection that reminded him that he was alive.

  She opened beneath his touch, her lips parting with a sigh. He inhaled her scent and taste before touching the tip of his tongue to hers in a moist slide of pleasure as she drew him deeper, closer.

  Her fingers branded his sides as she tugged him closer, until his hips pressed against hers and there was no hiding how she’d made him feel.

  She drew him away from the darkness of the war and pulled him toward a sense of belonging he’d thought of as long dead and buried.

  Hayley made a warm sound against his mouth, then surprised him by sucking on his tongue, an erotic tug that made him ache.

  He slipped his hand into her hair and urged her back to open for him. He needed her to join him more fully in this sensual dance.

  When she arched against him, he nearly dropped to his knees and wept. His entire body hardened with raw, burning need for the closeness of an intimate human connection.

  He couldn’t stop sipping from her mouth, tasting her. Reminding himself of everything he’d lost in the war.

  Of everything he was trying to find after years of searching.

  He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tell her how quickly she was returning to the central focus in his life.

  She ran one thumb over the edge of his hip. “I think I’d like to come to dinner tomorrow,” she whispered.

  And Cam went into a pure panic.

  Because he’d forgotten he never learned how to cook.

  Chapter 15

  AS KITTENS WENT, his little stray was quite active for her small size. Her fat little tummy never seemed to get in the way as she waddled about, and she was certainly vocal when she wanted food.

  She looked a little lopsided and her fur stuck out in every direction, but she was someone to talk to as he attempted to not burn down the kitchen while making dinner.

  Which was nice.

  “Just so you know, you’re not my first cat,” he said as he rolled another meatball onto a cookie sheet.

  She was clearly ignoring him. She was playing with a kitten toy he’d made by taking the hook out of an old rattletrap fishing lure. It was apparently a vicious enemy that needed to be killed. Many times.