In the Midnight Hour

by Deborah Cooke

  Was this the end of their moment? Haley had no idea. This night had been the best yet and she couldn’t imagine that there was more.

  Haley watched Damon for a while, acknowledging that she was conflicted. She wanted more, but she was afraid of having more.

  She was afraid of becoming vulnerable.

  She wanted to walk away now, while things were perfect between them, but she didn’t want to miss any goodness.

  She already knew she’d never forget Damon.

  Finally, she left the room. She pulled the door to the bedroom behind herself. She didn’t shut it completely, because she thought the latch might click.

  No doubt he’d hear any small sound and jump to attention.

  He’d have been trained for that and the PTSD would have made it worse.

  Haley made sure she was completely silent. She didn’t want to leave just yet, in case he woke up and wanted to talk. She felt good in his house, welcome and safe. Haley was going to go down to the kitchen and see if there was any tea in the cupboard, but she couldn’t resist the urge to investigate just a little.

  There were two bedrooms that faced the back of the house, one being Damon’s. The other had a couch and a television in it, a pair of bookcases. A lot of the titles were in a different language that looked like Russian. Haley assumed these were his mom’s books. There was a basket of crochet on one side of the couch and she had a look, again assuming it had been his mom who had been making dishcloths.

  She paused at the top of the stairs, listening to Damon’s steady breathing. Then she took a chance and pushed open the other door. It didn’t make a sound and, as she expected, it opened to a large bedroom that faced the street. There was a queen-sized bed at one end and a big bureau with a mirror, but what made Haley stop and stare were all the pictures. There were dozens of them, all framed in the same simple black wooden frames, hung in rows all around the room. They were all black and white.

  She stepped closer to look at them and realized they were drawings. Some were pencil and others were charcoal; still others were in ink, but it was clear to her that they’d been done by the same person.

  D.P. had initialed and dated each one in the bottom right corner.

  This was Damon’s work.

  Haley raised one hand to her mouth and moved around the room slowly, looking at each and every one. They were hung in the order of creation, beginning at the right of the bureau and continuing clockwise around the room. This laughing woman had to be Natasha in younger days.

  Here she was helping a little girl with her toe shoes, such tenderness in her expression that Haley bit her lip. Damon had come honestly by his affection for teaching. Here was a stiffer one of a man, maybe done from a photograph, a man who had Damon’s eyes.

  Here was a smiling young man, armed for combat, apparently taking a break in a hot and dusty place. Haley swallowed and eyed the surrounding drawings. They had been folded at some point, and she guessed that he had sent them home to his mom in his letters. She read the names. Foster. Buchanan. There was a German Shepherd with another man, the dog alert and the soldier looking weary. Killer and MacRae. There were others without names, a little girl selling scarves who looked to be Afghani, an old man selling spices with a thousand lines on his face, an older lady offering a cup of tea, fear and welcome warring in her eyes.

  After that were drawings of kids, American kids, some with huge boxing gloves and others with weights that looked too heavy for their slender arms. Several wore expressions of concentration or determination, and there were several that included a burly man. His head was shaved bald and his nose had been broken at least once, but Haley saw his undivided attention for each child. There was a portrait of him, too.

  She recognized the partners from Flatiron Five that she’d met while there. Their names were on the bottom of the drawing. Cassie. Kyle. Both of them were laughing and he’d caught them perfectly. There were two more: both elegant men in suits, one white and one black. Tyler. Theo.

  On the bureau were a few loose drawings and Haley smiled as she looked at them. Here was Teresa from the hospital, concentrating on her charts, and here was Dr. Smithson, listening to someone. That person wasn’t shown, but his characteristic concern and focus were both clear. He had such a great bedside manner, and Haley knew that Damon had observed the doctor with Natasha.

  There were some random sketches that she guessed were in the neighborhood and some from the subway. He was really talented and she surveyed the room, seeing his mom’s pride in his skill and feeling as if she’d had a secret peek into his life. She’d guess that Natasha had been the one to have Damon’s work framed.

  Haley would have framed it, too. She admired the work again.

  When she went into the hall, she could hear that Damon was still sleeping.

  Should she leave?

  She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that late. Not even eight.

  Before she could decide, Damon yelled.

  * * *

  He was back there.

  Again.

  Damon stirred in his sleep, knowing he was having the nightmare and only wanting it to stop. They were on that street. They were approaching the corner. He felt himself thrash with his desire to escape.

  He saw the kid.

  He warned Foster.

  He saw the grenade and time slowed to a crawl. He knew what it was, of course. He knew what was going to happen.

  But this time his body responded.

  Damon flung himself on the grenade. He wrapped himself around it, squeezing it tightly, trying to make sure there was no way that any of its destructive force would touch Buchanan or Foster.

  Then it squirmed in his grip, becoming larger, turning into an enemy warrior. That man laughed and Damon locked his hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him for what he had done. He laughed until the blood ran from between the other man’s teeth, until it leaked out his ears, until it ran from his eyes, until he laughed no more. Still he kept squeezing, demanding a due for Foster and Buchanan and all the others...

  * * *

  “Damon.”

  A voice summoned him back from the abyss.

  A familiar voice that didn’t belong in Afghanistan.

  “Damon!”

  Damon opened his eyes, panting, in a cold sweat, and found himself in his darkened bedroom with his heart racing. He realized he’d shredded the life out of a pillow.

  And Haley was silhouetted in the doorway, staring at him.

  She’d said his name.

  She’d called him back.

  He exhaled and surveyed the room. He was on the floor. He’d seized the pillow from the bed and slaughtered it in his dream.

  If Haley had been beside him, he could have killed her, without even realizing what he was doing until it was too late.

  This had to stop.

  Now.

  Before she paid the price for his sins.

  Chapter Eleven

  Haley had a very bad feeling about Damon’s nightmare.

  It was horrible to watch. He was muttering under his breath, his head jerking back and forth. His hands were clenched into fists and his teeth were bared. He’d kicked his way free of the blanket and his whole body was tense.

  Vibrating.

  She could feel the tension emanating from him in waves. She wanted to intervene, to help him, to wake him up, but was afraid she might make it worse somehow. She’d never seen someone so tormented.

  Then he yelled someone’s name, shouted it loud enough to raise the roof—or raise the dead. Had it been Foster? Haley wasn’t sure. He flung himself from the bed, almost catapulting into the air before he landed in a crouch on the floor. She was reminded of Spider-Man for the barest instant. She could have sworn he was awake, because he was surveying the room for whatever villain he fought.

  But his eyes were closed.

  He was breathing heavily and the light glistened in the perspiration on his back. The pillow had fallen from the bed when he eru
pted from it, and he suddenly fell on it as if he meant to crush it flat. He gripped it with his hands, twisting it with terrifying force.

  Like he was wringing someone’s neck. He was shredding it, savage in his efficiency.

  Haley took a step backward. Would he injure himself? She couldn’t bear it if he did, and she couldn’t stand to see him suffer so.

  “Damon,” she said softly.

  His head jerked up immediately.

  She said his name again, a little louder.

  His eyes flew open and he looked at her as if astonished to find her there. He scanned the room and rose to his feet with athletic grace, then seized his underwear and jeans. He dressed with such relentless speed that Haley’s dread rose. He was walking toward her as he hauled on a clean shirt, but he didn’t stop. He just touched her elbow and led her toward the stairs, marching her toward the foyer. His lips were set in a grim line and he didn’t meet her gaze.

  “What’s going on?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.

  “You’re going home. I’m taking you there.”

  “Don’t I get a vote in this?”

  “No.” She saw the furious flash of his eyes before he bent to tug on his boots. He grabbed his jacket and put it on, then glared at her, probably because she hadn’t moved.

  Haley folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to go home.”

  “I’ll walk you wherever you want to go.”

  “What if I want to stay here?”

  “You’re out of luck.”

  Haley shook her head. “Because you have nightmares, I can’t stay here?”

  “That’s pretty much it, yes.”

  “That’s stupid and you know it.”

  “Stupid!”

  Haley took a step back as Damon lost his temper for the first time in her experience.

  “Stupid!” he repeated, then flung out a hand. “Did you see what I did up there? What’s stupid is any suggestion that you stay!”

  “I don’t agree. I think you need company.”

  “No!” Damon ground out the words. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

  Haley felt her own eyes narrow. “You’re trying to protect me from yourself again.”

  “Yes, I am, and with good cause. If you’d been asleep, I could have killed you. There would have been nothing you could do about it, and I wouldn’t have even known what I was doing until it was over.” He swallowed, his throat working in agitation. “Until it was too late.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. You might have chosen the pillow...”

  “I don’t know for sure! That’s the fucking point, Haley! It isn’t worth taking that kind of a chance.” Damon reached for the deadbolt, unlocked it, then opened the door. He met her gaze again. “We’ve reached the end of that good bit,” he said. “You need to go.”

  Haley could have argued with him. She could have seduced him. But if he thought this was the end of the good bit, then it must be.

  She pulled on her boots and grabbed her bag.

  She wasn’t going to cry, much less beg. “It was really good. Thanks.” She held Damon’s gaze as she fastened her coat, then walked past him and out the door. She didn’t look back. She didn’t stare at the sidewalk. She kept her head high.

  Did he watch her? Haley told herself she couldn’t have cared less.

  Did he follow her? Haley told herself that she didn’t want him to.

  Did he call out after her? Haley closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t and fearing he would.

  Because there was something about Damon that drew her back over and over again, something that made him impossible to ignore or resist, something—she was starting to wonder—that really might break her heart.

  It was hurting pretty badly already.

  Walking away now was the smart choice.

  He didn’t call her name or follow her. At the end of the block, Haley saw a cab and hailed it, never looking back. She folded her arms across her chest and fought her tears as she sat in the back.

  She’d squeezed every moment out of the good bit and told herself to be glad.

  But Haley, despite her best efforts, wasn’t glad at all.

  * * *

  Haley had just opened a can of tuna when her phone rang. It was her mom. She gave half the tuna to the cat, then answered. “Hi Mom.”

  “Hello, honey. Are you busy?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “You sound blue.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “That time of year is coming up. I’ve been thinking about your dad’s birthday, too.” Her mom sighed. “Every year I think it should get easier but it never does.”

  “No,” Haley admitted around the lump in her throat. “It never does.” She watched the cat eat and decided it was easier to let her mom think the approaching birthday was the reason she was down in the dumps. She wondered how she could call him Ninja and not think about Damon eighty-seven million times a day.

  Maybe she would anyway.

  She was going to miss him, and not just because she liked the way he said thanks.

  “But I have something to tell you!” her mom enthused.

  “You’re pregnant,” Haley guessed, an old joke between the two of them.

  “No!” Her mom laughed, then sobered. “Are you?”

  “No.” Haley thought about not using condoms every time.

  Probably not.

  She counted on her fingers and didn’t think so.

  “Because there are lots of reasons to be feeling glum besides your dad’s birthday.”

  Haley winced. Her mom was too perceptive. “It’s winter. With less sunshine and more people grumpy about the weather, it’s easy to feel less than happy all the time.”

  “True enough.” Her mom’s tone became crisp. “So, here’s the thing. They posted the details about that new position and I wanted to make sure you knew about it.”

  “Mom, you know I’m not going to leave New York.”

  “Why not? You always said you’d move wherever you found the best opportunity and this is a great one.” Her mom cleared her throat. “If your career is first, then you can’t overlook this chance.”

  “True.” The cat finished his meal, cleaned his dish and sniffed at the can of tuna. He sat down and curled his tail around himself, then gave her an expectant look. Haley propped the phone against her shoulder and put the rest of the tuna in his bowl. The tip of his tail flicked as she did it, and it seemed that his eye glowed with satisfaction.

  Apparently, big dark brooding males could convince her to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

  “This is an opportunity you don’t want to miss,” her mom continued. Haley wasn’t really listening. She was watching the cat. How long had it been since someone pampered him? His coat was beautifully black but it didn’t have as much of a sheen as she thought it should. She’d felt his ribs the one time he’d let her pat him, too.

  Well, she was going to take care of him now.

  She could almost hear Damon saying that she was making the cat a new project. She liked projects. Maybe she did need one.

  Maybe the cat would have to do.

  “Wait. Let me read from the memo.” Her mom cleared her throat, then named the hospital where she worked. “‘We are seeking a candidate to lead a revolutionary new program to explore alternative healing options and implement them in our facility.’” Haley blinked and started to listen more intently as her mom continued. “‘The successful candidate will have a solid understanding of such therapeutic options as well as experience in supplementing patient care with such strategies. The successful candidate will be expected to build a team and to operate independently of specific departments in the hospital, creating programs to benefit all patients and consulting to all departments in our facility.’ And then there’s a list of credentials that sounds like your résumé, Haley.”

  “Wow,” Haley said, because her mom expected it and because it was true. “That
sounds like a dream job.”

  “Listen to the compensation,” her mom said, then read some more.

  Haley straightened. She’d be able to buy a house herself on a salary like that, at least in Illinois. “Huh,” she said, not wanting to show too much enthusiasm.

  Was it time to move?

  “It’s perfect for you and it’s right here in town. You could move back here and we could see each other all the time.”

  “Is that supposed to be a good thing or not?” Haley teased and her mom laughed.

  “That’s what Brad said!”

  They laughed together.

  “It sounds amazing, Mom.”

  “They could have written this memo with you in mind, dear.”

  Haley could hear that her mom was bursting to ask if she’d apply. She bit her lip. What was holding her in New York? Not a whole lot. “I have the cat now,” she said, while she was thinking.

  “So you said. He looks grumpy.”

  “He is, pretty much.”

  Her mom chuckled. “If anyone is going to turn him into a purring pussycat, it’ll be you.”

  “So far, he’s not big on being touched, but we’re still getting used to each other.”

  “You’ll wear him down, Haley. You always triumph.”

  Haley stopped herself before she could confess anything about Damon. She thought of the service for his mom and decided that she wasn’t going to go unless he specifically invited her.

  Maybe taking a chance with Damon had just been enough to show her what she was missing—or what she was denying herself by always playing it safe.

  Maybe her mom was right and it was time for a fresh start. Haley wasn’t sure, but she was ready to take another chance.

  “Can you email that memo to me?” she asked. “I’d like to apply.”

  “I just knew it!” her mom said.

  “No pulling strings for me,” Haley said but her mom was dismissive.

  “You don’t need help with this, Haley. You’re ideal for this job and I reserve the right to tell anyone so who asks me.”