In the Midnight Hour

by Deborah Cooke

  “You were so right,” he said when he came back inside. “It’s so much easier this way, but I would never have done it without you.” His gaze bored into hers. “Thank you.”

  “I told you, that’s what friends are for.”

  He looked like he might say something and Haley hoped he wasn’t going to explain that they weren’t friends. She’d heard that enough times. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold,” she said and he nodded agreement.

  “Will you tell me when and where you served?” she asked and got a look for that.

  “Afghanistan. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Haley nodded, feeling as if he was building walls between them again. She supposed she should have expected it. “Fair enough,” she said and kept eating her dinner. She felt him watching her but decided not to fill the silence.

  They ate until she heard the sound of his cutlery being set on the plate. “I remember the first meal I had in this kitchen after I came home.”

  Haley glanced up in surprise.

  Damon was surveying the room. “I didn’t come home right away. I had to go for some therapy for the PTSD and that was up in Boston. I decided not to re-up when I was there. They recommended as much, but I knew even before anything was said that I couldn’t go back.” His gaze collided with hers. “I wanted to think about the future instead of the past, but the only thing I knew how to do was kill people and take their stuff.”

  Haley smiled because she knew he expected it, but she knew that it had been a challenging time for him. “I’ve heard that joke before,” she said, wondering what exactly was at the root of his PTSD. A single traumatic event? That’s what she would have expected, but she also knew that each case was unique.

  Listening was the best gift she could give Damon, now that he wanted to talk.

  Why did he want to confide in her now? Haley again had the sense that something had changed, although she didn’t know what.

  “It’s true, along with a lot of other things you learn.” Damon looked away and Haley knew he was thinking of the things he’d rather forget.

  She didn’t say anything, just finished her chicken and waited.

  “You probably know that one of the things that helps to manage the effects of PTSD is exercise.”

  Haley nodded. “Along with a lot of other coping mechanisms.”

  Damon counted them on his fingers. “Good diet. Management of the environment. Avoidance of shocks. A daily routine. Plenty of sleep. The list is long and it all helps.”

  Haley nodded again, glad he’d gone for therapy. She wasn’t really surprised, though. Damon wasn’t irresponsible, even with his own care. He would have wanted to solve the issue.

  “So, when I came home, I joined a gym just down the way. Not a fancy place, but they had good equipment and it wasn’t too expensive. I liked that the owner had a weakness for kids, especially kids who were being bullied or who showed an interest in training. He had them come after school and he taught them for free for a month or two. He spotted for them and gave them tips. Most of them didn’t last long, but there were a few who really got into it. He asked me to help.” Damon smiled a little. “Maybe he thought I needed something different to think about after my thousandth push-up of the day.”

  “You like kids?”

  Damon nodded. “I had no idea until then, but I did like them. And I liked teaching them. Eventually, there were a few who wanted to stay on, even if they had to pay to learn more. Zeke let them be my students, so I had a kind of coaching thing going on. It wasn’t a lot of money, because these kids often didn’t have much. Zeke insisted that they pay something, to teach them the value of getting what you want. Of working for it. Some of them paid for their lessons by doing errands for me or for my mom. There was one who delivered her groceries every week from the store to here.”

  “Sounds nice. A community thing.”

  “It was. I went back to school, too, determined to get the degree I hadn’t finished because I signed up. I changed majors so it took a bit longer, but by the time I’d finished, I’d met Kyle at the club. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was going around to all the clubs in New York, doing a survey in advance of opening F5. He’d join the ones he heard good things about, see what they were doing right and what they might be doing wrong, as well as keeping an eye out for good people. I couldn’t believe my luck when he asked if I wanted a job at a new fitness club opening in the city.”

  “But you’re a partner.”

  Damon nodded. “Initially, I was hired to coach in the weight room. But then I went down there and looked at the construction, and I thought they had some design elements wrong. I knew I couldn’t explain it well, so I came back here and basically put together a presentation arguing my case. A week later, I took it to the partners, fully expecting them to say thanks, maybe act on it or maybe not, maybe give me some cash if they did. Instead, they were really excited and asked me to join the partnership.” He shook his head. “It was like a dream come true. These four people who knew each other for years and met at college, then me, son of a carpenter and ex-military, too.” He raised his brows. “One of these things is not like the others.”

  Haley smiled, again because she knew he expected it. “Is that why you didn’t confide in them about your mom?”

  “Probably. I didn’t really think about it. I just didn’t want to lose F5. I know it’s going to be what gives me purpose.”

  Haley nodded in understanding. “What about the local gym?”

  “Oh, it closed when Zeke died. I gave him a full membership at F5. I bought it for him with my first pay check, but I think he only came down there once. He said it was too fancy for him.” Damon smiled in recollection and Haley’s heart squeezed. “I still went back to help coach the kids two nights a week until he passed away.” He shrugged. “I’d still be doing it if the club was there.”

  Haley believed it. “Sounds like he died young.”

  Damon nodded. “It was tragic. Car accident. You know, all those kids over the years came out to honor him.”

  Haley gave him a skeptical look. “And you forgot how powerful that was?”

  Damon looked sheepish. “I try not to think about funerals. It makes me remember other things.” He got up then and took the dishes to the sink. Instead of loading the dishwasher, he started to wash them and Haley went to help. She didn’t know what to say, so she just dried plates and put them away, feeling all the while that Damon was watching her.

  He cleared his throat when everything was done, and if she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he was nervous. “You never showed me what you learned about meridians at F5.”

  “Checking up on your instructor?”

  “I’d much rather check up on the student.”

  Haley gave him a look. “That sounds like a line.”

  He was immediately close beside her, his hand on her shoulder and slowly stroking up to her chin. She melted, right on cue. “It wasn’t supposed to be,” he said, his voice low. He was looking at her as if she was amazing, and Haley reminded herself not to get used to it. Then that reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and she was a goner. “There’s just something about you. I can’t get enough.” He leaned down to touch his lips to the corner of her mouth. “I always want more.”

  Haley closed her eyes in surrender, leaning back and letting him tug her into his arms. “Same here,” she whispered, just before he brushed his lips across hers. The light touch left her tingling, and hungry for more.

  “Maybe we should do something about that,” he murmured, his face so close that she thought she could see all his secrets in his dark eyes.

  “We definitely should,” she replied, then reached up to kiss him.

  * * *

  How could it be just as good the second time?

  If not better?

  How could sex with Haley get better every time? Damon couldn’t understand it. He seldom seduced any woman more than twice. He u
sually had his fill by then and was ready for a change. It wasn’t about novelty or variety. It was because after the second date, women started to ask questions. They wanted to know more about him, delve into his secrets and deepen the connection. Damon knew that wasn’t for him, so he voted with his feet.

  The difference with Haley, he realized as he held her after their second bout of lovemaking that night, was that she hadn’t waited to start asking questions. She’d been delving into his secrets even before he’d met her, doing her research and checking the files. In a way, she had a head start on things and he hadn’t been ready for that.

  She dozed a little against his chest, her hair a glorious tangle in his hands, and he was content to just be with her. Was it because there was no pending battle? No threat of her finding out the truth about him and running away?

  Or was it because he doubted she’d ever run away from him?

  Not Haley. She’d come after him when she thought he was wrong.

  Damon pressed a kiss to the top of her head. There was something reassuring about her determination to confront him and challenge him. Her persistence was something he admired, especially when she told him something he didn’t want to hear. She had guts.

  As much as he knew he couldn’t deliver what any woman wanted on a long term basis, Haley made him want to try.

  That in itself was pretty amazing.

  In fact, he wanted to change her mind about commitment and true love. He wanted to kick this Aidan asshole to the curb and show Haley that love could last, if it was nurtured by the people involved. He wanted to prove to her that love didn’t always end in tragedy, that it was worth believing in more than just the moment.

  He wasn’t entirely sure where this urge came from, but he trusted it. He wondered if his mom was inspiring him to take a chance on love, to win Haley’s heart and keep it forever. He hoped so. Natasha’d had really good instincts about people and she’d liked Haley, without even knowing much about her.

  Haley stirred and looked up at Damon, pushing her hair back as she smiled. She was still flushed and her eyes were sparkling. He noticed a couple of details to add to his drawing. “That was great.”

  Damon nodded. “Seems to be a pretty consistent result.”

  She laughed. “Is that what’s been going on? A consistency test?”

  “Of course not.” He couldn’t resist her lips and bent to kiss her once more. As ever, she wrapped herself around him, welcoming him, offering all that she had to give. She was so generous and kind that he suspected he’d always be shaken by the honesty of her response.

  He could get used to it.

  He wanted more than a moment with her.

  She sighed contentment when they broke their kiss and ran a hand over his shoulder. She outlined his tribal tattoo with a fingertip, then glanced up at him through her lashes as if she was suddenly shy. “Why this design?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tattoos often mean something. I don’t understand this one.” She flicked another look up at him, as if she sensed that there was more to it than met the eye. “What does it mean?”

  “Nothing,” Damon admitted without intending to do so. “It’s just big with a lot of ink.”

  She watched her own fingertip as she outlined the design. “Because you wanted to cover up another one,” she guessed, and he knew better than to be surprised.

  “The guys on my team all got the same one when we were deployed. I didn’t deserve to wear it any more.”

  There. He’d said it out loud. He hadn’t admitted that since he’d gone to the tattoo parlor for this one.

  “What was it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s history now.”

  Haley looked at him, her expression skeptical, but Damon didn’t want to argue about this, and he didn’t want to talk about it any more. His chest was tight with the memory and he knew he had to distract himself from the path that led to his worst nightmare.

  He kissed her quickly, as much to silence her inevitable question as anything else. “You haven’t shown me what you learned at F5,” he said, trying to sound normal.

  Haley hesitated only a moment, assessing his mood, then nodded. “You’re right. I haven’t. Roll to your stomach and I’ll show you.”

  “There’s some lotion in the bathroom. I’ll get it.”

  She stayed him with a fingertip. “No, wait here. I’ll get it. I want to wash up a little first anyhow.”

  Damon remained on the bed, his chin braced on his fists, and remembered having the tattoo covered. The artist had admired the old tattoo and had been reluctant to cover it up because it was such good work. Damon had insisted, and eventually—when he’d threatened to go elsewhere—the artist had relented.

  He’d taken a picture of it first, though, just for his own collection.

  The big tribal tattoo had hurt, while Damon didn’t remember the first tattoo hurting much at all. He supposed it was psychological, a kind of penance for his failure.

  He felt his heartbeat slow and a languor steal through his body even as he heard the water splash. He was so tired. He’d been running for a long time, trying to juggle his mom’s illness with his responsibilities at F5, and probably not doing a very good job of it. He’d felt torn between his obligations and unable to reconcile them. He hated that his mom was gone and he missed her already, but in a way, it made his life simpler.

  There would just be work.

  There would just be F5.

  Could he convince Haley to stay? Damon wasn’t sure he had much to offer her. The sex was great, but that wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to tell her things but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. It just wasn’t in his nature to expose his secrets to view. He was willing to try, but he doubted it would be enough.

  His best hadn’t been enough for Foster, after all.

  Damon wondered what had happened to Buchanan. They hadn’t kept in touch, although Buchanan had emailed him a couple of times in the early days. Damon had never replied.

  He hoped his former teammate was okay. It had to be hell to live without a hand, his dominant hand, too. He had to have been given an honorary discharge for medical reasons. Damon wondered if Buchanan had married that girlfriend who always wrote to him, or if his injury had been a deal-breaker.

  Was it possible that Buchanan was just as much alone as he was?

  Was it possible that a person’s truth could be the obstacle to his or her happiness?

  That was a troubling possibility. Would telling Haley all of his truth end what she called the perfect moment?

  “I hope you’re not asleep.” Haley’s light step sounded on the floor as she returned. She went toward his desk, probably intending to turn on the lamp.

  “Leave it off, please,” he said and felt her turn to look at him. “I like the darkness.”

  “All the better to hide your secrets,” she said lightly.

  Of course, she’d guessed the truth. He really didn’t want her to see the drawings he’d made of her, not just because they weren’t done. They weren’t right yet.

  He was self-conscious about them, fearful that they might reveal more than he realized to Haley’s perceptive gaze. She might dislike that he’d done them, as if he was a stalker or something.

  As if he was believing in more than she did.

  Damon glanced up at her silhouette and saw that she’d tugged on her dress again. She’d also pulled her hair back into a ponytail, which seemed official to him. He liked her hair loose. He wondered if she’d gotten dressed because she was hiding from him or if she was cold. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to hear the answer.

  Haley would have asked him, no matter what she thought the answer might be.

  The realization stole another increment of his energy. He closed his eyes, wanting only to sleep.

  “That was a joke,” she said, then he felt the mattress dip as she knelt on the side of the bed. “You really should move to the floor. All the books say it’s better than g
iving a massage to someone on a bed.”

  “I’m not moving anywhere.” Damon yawned. “This feels too good.”

  “How are you going to assess my technique if you fall asleep?”

  “Maybe I won’t be able to.” He yawned again. “I’m feeling like it’s a miracle I’ve been awake this long.”

  Her fingertips slid down his back, then swept up again with a little more pressure. She smoothed lotion over his skin, her hands spread flat, and he knew she’d warmed it in her hands first. Although her hands were small, her touch was firm and it felt good. She moved to straddle him and put her weight into each stroke. Damon almost purred with satisfaction. “Tell me about meridians,” he murmured.

  “They’re how qi moves through your body,” she said, her voice soft and as hypnotic as her touch. “The medial line runs from the perineum up to here.” She ran her fingertips up his back and Damon closed his eyes again. He breathed deeply as she continued, not really listening as he succumbed to the magic of her touch.

  And the temptation of sleep.

  * * *

  Damon wasn’t listening to her.

  Haley knew that but she kept talking, repeating what she’d learned in the class and read since then. She gave him a general massage, working out the kinks when she found them, easing the tension from his muscles. He’d clearly been under a lot of stress. He was toned from his work-outs, but where there should have been some give, the strain of his mother’s illness had his body taut. She heard his breathing slow and felt his pulse drop and figured he was past due for a good sleep.

  If he could do that because she was with him, that was fine by her.

  She kept talking because she didn’t want to inadvertently wake him with a change. By the time she was finished with the massage, she knew he was sleeping deeply. She carefully got up from the bed and pulled a blanket over him, watching him sleep for a moment. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see him in the shadows. His hair was tousled and he looked younger, less stern. She was tempted to touch his cheek, but again, thought she might wake him up.