by Lara Lacombe
She pulled another shirt off the rack and froze. It was the shirt she’d worn the night she and James...
Kelly tossed it in the donation pile as if it was a lit firecracker. One of the benefits to being wrapped up in the move was that she hadn’t had time to think of James. But seeing that shirt again hit her like a punch to the stomach, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the flood of memories.
She’d made the right choice. She had. Yes, it still hurt, and yes, she missed him something fierce, but in the end, they weren’t meant for each other.
So what if she felt as if a part of her was missing? As if she had a hole in her heart that was never going to heal? Loving someone meant you did what was best for them, and it was clear she wasn’t what was best for James. It was the truth, and she just had to keep repeating that until she accepted it.
Which she would. Eventually.
With hands that shook ever so slightly, she lifted the shirt from the donation pile and smoothed out the wrinkles. Then she hung it in the wardrobe box. She couldn’t just throw it away. It was still a good shirt, even with all the painful memories that seemed woven into the fabric. Maybe one day she could even wear it and not feel as if her heart was breaking all over again.
Maybe.
The doorbell rang, and the harsh sound made her jump. She shook her head as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. It was just the pizza. She had to get her nerves under control and stop thinking that every noise, every unexpected sound was a threat. Her therapist had told her it would take time to feel safe again, but she was tired of being afraid.
She walked to the door, wishing for the umpteenth time she had a peephole. It was a little thing, but it made a huge difference to her peace of mind. With a deep breath, she reached out to lay a hand on the baseball bat she’d taken to leaving by the door. The wood was smooth and cool under her fingers, and although it probably wouldn’t do her any good, it made her feel better to know she had some means of protecting herself.
It’s fine, she told herself, reaching out to lay her hand on the dead bolt. Knowing that if she didn’t act now her insecurities would get the better of her, she flipped back the lock and twisted the doorknob, pasting on a false smile as she opened the door to get her dinner.
Except it wasn’t the pizza delivery guy standing on her threshold.
She blinked in sudden confusion at the sight that greeted her.
Her dinner had arrived, all right, but rather than some pimply teenage boy, it was James who held the thin rectangular box in his large hands.
Kelly caught her breath as she drank in the sight of him. He looked amazing, standing there in a T-shirt and jeans, his broad shoulders nearly the width of her door. His hair was a little longer, the ends curling up at his neck and over his ears. He probably hadn’t had time to cut it lately, if the stubble darkening his cheeks and the dark shadows under his eyes were any indication. She knew from Thomas that they’d all been working overtime lately, but seeing James looking less than his usual polished self really drove the point home.
His dark eyes were focused intently on her, as if he was waiting to see if she’d run. He shifted on his feet, and she caught a whiff of his soap and detergent. She nearly groaned aloud as memories washed over her, making her knees weak and her stomach flutter. God, he still smells the same.
His lips curved up in a tentative, almost shy smile. “Hey,” he said softly. His voice was husky in the silence, and Kelly felt goose bumps break out across her skin as a thrill of awareness swept through her.
Feeling suddenly parched, she swiped her tongue across her lips to moisten them. His eyes zeroed in on the movement, then flicked back to meet hers.
“Hi,” she replied, feeling like an idiot as she stood there gaping at him like a love-struck fool. Why was he here? What was she supposed to say to him?
“Can I come in?” he asked, his expression simultaneously hopeful and guarded.
When she didn’t respond, he held up the pizza box. “I brought dinner.”
She nodded dumbly, stepping aside to let him enter the apartment. “How did you know I wanted pizza tonight?”
He stepped past her, careful not to brush against her as he walked in. “I ran into the guy downstairs and offered to bring it up.”
“Oh.” So that explained it. Releasing her hold on the bat, Kelly shut the door and reached for her purse. “Let me pay you.”
“No need,” he said quickly. “But I hope you don’t mind if I have some with you.”
She shrugged, hyperaware of his eyes on her. “Be my guest.”
He looked around her apartment, taking stock of the stacks of boxes and the empty shelves. “When are you moving?”
“Tomorrow.”
Something flashed in his eyes at the news, and he swallowed hard before turning away to set the pizza on her coffee table.
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Where—” It came out as a rasp, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Where are you going?”
She debated lying to him for a split second. She could tell him she was moving across the country and that she’d never see him again. With one word, she could make sure he was completely cut out of her life, that her heart was protected. It would be so easy.
But the way he was looking at her now, his big brown eyes almost pleading, gave her pause. He deserved the truth. Besides, she didn’t have the energy to lie.
“Alexandria.”
His shoulders slumped at the word, and he briefly closed his eyes as he exhaled loudly. Then he gave her a relieved smile, and the fatigue and worry on his face disappeared for a moment. “That’s great.”
“Why are you here?” Being this close to him again was distracting. She could practically feel her resolve weakening every time he looked at her, and God help her if he tried to touch her. She’d worked hard to build a wall around her heart after sending him away in the hospital, but seeing him now and hearing his voice again made her realize she still had a lot of work to do if she was going to get over him.
His smile slipped a bit at her blunt question. “I was hoping we could talk.”
That was...surprising. And unexpected. He was supposed to just go away so she could mend her broken heart in peace. Didn’t he understand why she had asked him to leave? Did she really have to spell it out for him?
She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t really have anything to say.” She spoke slowly, feeling her way through the murky conversational waters.
James took a step forward, his expression earnest. “That’s okay. You can just listen to me.” He gestured back to the pizza. “Do you want to eat while I talk to you?”
She shook her head. A nervous flutter had taken up residence in her stomach at the sight of him, and she didn’t trust that food would stay down right now. Better to hear what he had to say without the added worry of throwing up on him.
James ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, bowing his head to stare at the floor. It was clear he was nervous, but why? He’d made his feelings clear, so what was left to say?
As the silence dragged on, Kelly realized she was going to have to prod him a bit to get him to start talking. “James?” she said softly. “I still have to finish packing.”
“Right.” He jerked his head up to meet her gaze and straightened his shoulders, a man preparing for battle. “It’s like this.” There was a faint rasp as he ran his hand over his chin, clearly searching for words.
“I messed up.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“I messed up,” he repeated helpfully. “The night before the operation, when you told me about...about Gary, I messed up. Although—” his tone became thoughtful “—if you really want to get technical about it, I suppose the first time I screwed things up was the morning after we slept together.”
Kelly shook her head, not trusting her ears. “I don’t understand.”
“For starters, I should have gone after you,” he replied. “I could tell
you were upset, and I should have made a point of finding out why and helping then, instead of letting you go without a fight. That was my first mistake.”
When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I told you about Steve, about how I had trusted him and been let down. When I found out you were connected to my investigation, I made the mistake of thinking you were going to do the same thing. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst when it came to you. I know you well enough to know you’d never do that, but I let my insecurities cloud my judgment. I’m sorry for that.”
Satisfaction was a warm glow in her chest. Even though it didn’t matter anymore, it was nice to have confirmation that he had acted like a jerk. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded. “When I finally pulled my head out of my ass and recognized you weren’t involved, I was hopeful we could try again. I can’t tell you how good it felt to know you still had feelings for me, too.” His voice broke, and he looked down, taking a deep breath as if to compose himself.
Kelly felt a tug on her heartstrings at this display. James had always been so calm and composed—she’d never seen him look so vulnerable before. She ached to wrap her arms around him and pull him close, but she sensed he wouldn’t welcome her touch right now. She could tell he still had things to say.
He glanced up with glassy eyes, and he blinked several times and cleared his throat before speaking again. “And then I ruined everything.”
Kelly blinked back her own tears at this admission. She’d spent the past few weeks thinking James hadn’t understood how much his rejection had hurt her, but it seemed she was wrong. He did recognize that his words had cut her deeply. Another section of the wall she’d built around her heart crumbled.
“I don’t know how to apologize for the way I acted after you told me about Gary. I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you to tell me about that, and I pushed you away when I should have supported you. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
It took a few tries for her to find her voice, and when she spoke, it was thick with emotion. “It’s okay,” she said, stepping close to lay her hand on his arm. “I should have worked on my timing. I just kind of dropped it on you with no warning in the middle of another discussion. That wasn’t really fair to you.”
He covered her hand with his own, his touch warm. “Stop being so nice,” he chided, his mouth curving up in a teasing grin. “I’m not done prostrating myself yet.”
She let out a wobbly laugh. “There’s more?”
His expression turned serious again. “Oh, yeah. Do you have any idea how many years were taken off my life when Caleb took you, and then when I found out you’d been seriously injured?”
Kelly raised a brow at that. “It wasn’t exactly fun for me, either. I couldn’t think straight at all—I was so worried about you—”
“About me?”
She gave him a little shove. “Yes, about you! A bomb had just gone off, and the last I saw, you were on the ground covered in debris. I had no idea if you were still alive, if you were hurt, if anyone would know to look for you.”
It felt good to rail at him, even if the events in question had occurred weeks ago. She’d been carrying the stress ever since that awful day, and the release of all her pent-up emotion made her feel curiously light.
James reached up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “The important thing is, we both made it out alive. And in the past few weeks, I’ve realized that I don’t want to go on living without having you around.”
Kelly caught her breath, not daring to hope. Was he saying...? Did he really mean...?
“I want you, Kelly,” he said, his voice whisper soft. “I love you, and I want to be with you.”
The words fell on her like warm rain, soothing and gentle, healing the cracks of her heart.
“I know you asked me to go,” he continued, rushing now. “And I will, if that’s what you want. But I wasn’t going to let you go without a fight this time, so here I am, telling you in no uncertain terms that I think we should try again.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off. “You don’t have to answer now,” he practically begged. “Take some time to think about it if you want. But I just want to say that I’ve learned from my mistakes, and if you take me back, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
All her earlier doubts evaporated in the face of his declaration, and the love she’d deliberately locked away expanded to fill the empty space left behind.
A giddy laugh bubbled up as she gave herself permission to believe his promises. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought she’d get a happy ending like this, but maybe that was her problem. No matter what her therapist said, she still had trouble believing she deserved to be happy.
Well, she wouldn’t think that anymore. No longer would she settle for second best or put herself down because she mistakenly thought it was the right thing to do. She was going to reach for her happiness with both hands, grab it tight and wrestle it to the ground so it couldn’t get away.
Starting now.
She stared up into the dark eyes of the man she loved, putting all her emotions into her smile.
“I love you, too,” she said, reaching up to lay the palm of her hand on his cheek. “Now let’s get started on our second chance.”
* * * * *
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Chapter 1
Madison Duncan couldn’t still her excitement. She wanted to see the Afghan horses near the house where she was staying. She slipped away from the U.S. agricultural mission in the Shinwari leader’s home.
Earlier, when she and the six men on her mission had been driven in with their Marine Corps escort, she’d spotted a corral of Afghan horses out behind the three-story mud-and-rock house. She was the horse breeding expert on the humanitarian mission to help the Shinwari tribe improve their horses. And now, Madison simply couldn’t wait any longer to take a look at the animals.
Taking a side door, she quietly slipped outside. It was dusk, the sky a cobalt dome above the valley ringed by the high Hindu Kush mountains. Already, she could see stars so close that it took her breath away.
They were ten miles from the Pakistan border, and the Marine captain, whose duty it was to keep this group of U.S. civilians safe, had told her they were in the badlands. The area was heavy with Taliban and Al-Qaeda activity and skirmishes. The captain warned her no one was safe without military escort, even inside the five-foot mud wall that surrounded Lar Sholten, a large village of two hundred people.
She could barely see through the semidarkness of the June evening, the dust fine and rising around her knee-high black leather riding boots as she headed toward a corral of rock and mud. Inside were about ten Afghan horses.
Her heart quickened with anticipation as she pulled her denim jacket a little tighter around her. At six thousand feet, the night air turned cold, and she wished she’d brought more than summer clothes. At least her jeans helped shield her from the dropping temperature. She just needed a good, bulky winter sweater.
Some of the horses nickered as she walked up to the wooden gate. Smiling, M
adison put her hand over the chest-high wall, calling to them. “Hey,” she cooed softly. “Come on over...” These were small horses, maybe fourteen hands tall, sturdy with thick necks. Their heads still bore some resemblance to their Arabian ancestors with small muzzles and short, fine ears. A gray horse with a thick, scruffy black mane walked over. Madison had been told that the Afghans always rode geldings. Tribal leaders were the only ones who could ride a stallion. The mares were kept solely for breeding purposes.
She smiled and saw how large the brown eyes were on the gray gelding. Scratching his ears, which he loved, she tried to look at the animal’s overall conformation.
The Shinwari tribe had signed papers with the U.S., asking them for help. Her father, John Duncan, owned a Trakehner stud farm in College Station, Texas, and had been invited to go along. He’d broken his ankle and couldn’t make it, and Madison pleaded successfully to be allowed to go in his stead. She’d been raised with the Prussian warm-blooded horses that had a global reputation for refining and improving any other breed of horse.
At last, she was here with these beautiful animals. She focused on the gray horse and stood on tiptoes to look over at his legs. He had a short back and fine-looking head, all reminiscent of earlier Arabian breeding. Afghanistan, at least in the eastern portion, was nothing but rocky mountains and desert, and the Arabian influence on these horses was telling.
She moved to the wood-slatted gate and knelt down, running her hand down the animal’s front leg. He had a short, thick cannon bone, which was good for mountainous areas. Surprised at how nice his front legs were, her mind automatically went to the next step. Her job was to assess the horses and determine what breed could improve them. The leader of the village had said he wanted a taller horse because not all Afghans were short, although she’d seen many who were.