by Lara Lacombe
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her temper sharpening her tone. “I just thought we should discuss what happened between us last night. Clearly, you don’t feel the same way. Forget I ever brought it up.”
She turned and began walking again, striding away from his shocked expression. She didn’t make it far before she heard the shuffle of his footsteps. He caught up to her quickly, her angry pace no match for his long-legged stride. He fell into step beside her but didn’t speak for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what to say, or how to process all this.”
“I don’t either,” she admitted. “I didn’t ask to feel this way.”
His smile was tinged with sadness. “I can imagine. You probably never thought you’d see me again after you sent that letter.”
Bea frowned as his words sank in. None of the letters she’d written to him during his basic training had contained anything angry or hurtful. What was he talking about?
“What letter?”
He shot her a knowing look. “Oh, come on. You can’t be serious.”
She stopped walking, and after a few steps he stopped, too. “What letter, Micah?”
He lifted one eyebrow and pressed his lips together. “Your Dear John letter. The only one you ever sent me while I was away. Was it really so insignificant to you that you don’t remember?”
Bea felt as though all the blood in her body was racing south, pooling on the ground beneath her. A sense of numbness claimed her feet, then her legs, spreading up and through her body with every beat of her heart. Her knees gave out, and she dropped to the ground.
Micah was at her side in an instant, kneeling next to her. “Hey,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “What’s happening? Talk to me.”
Chunk nosed at her neck and the cold pressure helped break through her distress. “I never sent you a Dear John letter,” she said, her voice shaking.
Micah rocked back on his heels, frowning. “Yeah, you did. You said you didn’t want to be a soldier’s wife and that I shouldn’t try to contact you.”
“No.” She shook her head so hard the ends of her hair slapped against her cheeks with small, sharp stings. “I never wrote that.”
“Okay.” He nodded, but she heard the doubt in his voice.
She reached out and grabbed his shirt with both hands, gripping tightly. “I wrote to you every day,” she said, enunciating every word. “But I never sent you a breakup letter. That’s what you did to me.”
“What?” His expression morphed from concerned to confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You sent me a letter,” she said firmly. “You told me you didn’t want a wife holding you back and that I should find someone else.”
Micah blinked, clearly taken aback. “That’s crazy,” he said slowly. “I didn’t have any time to write to you, and I certainly wouldn’t have broken up with you in a letter. I would have called or waited until I came back from basic training so we could talk in person.”
Tears stung her eyes as she pictured his handwriting sloping across the page. “I tried to call you after I read what you’d written, but I couldn’t get through. Since I wasn’t family, they wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.” He pushed to his feet and began to pace, clearly agitated. “This doesn’t make any sense. I got a letter from you—it was in your handwriting, with your return address, postmarked from Red Ridge. And you’re telling me you received a letter I never wrote.”
She nodded. “Do you still have it?”
“Yeah.” He stopped walking and cleared his throat. “I do, actually. Don’t know why I kept the damn thing, but I figured it was the last time I’d ever hear from you. Made me a little sentimental, I guess.”
Bea exhaled in relief. “I still have my letter, too. It’s in my desk drawer at home.”
“You up for a little field trip?”
She nodded, her heart lifting. “Yes. I need to know what’s going on.”
“Let’s go,” he said, his eyes shining with determination. “This is one mystery we can solve tonight.”
* * *
Micah stared at the piece of paper in his hand, reading the words over and over again.
His heart twisted at the callous, impersonal message. It was all too easy to imagine Bea reading this alone, her heart breaking as she tried to understand why the man she loved was ending things between them. For a split second, he was disappointed she had thought him capable of breaking up with her via a letter, but then he reminded himself he’d thought the same of her when he’d gotten his own message.
“This... I never wrote this.”
Bea glanced up from the letter he’d given her to read, her eyes wide. “I didn’t write this, either.” She shook her head and returned her gaze to the paper. “It looks a lot like my handwriting, but it’s just a little bit off. The Ts aren’t quite right, and the curve of the S is wrong, as well.”
Micah glanced back at the letter in his hand. “Mine looks like that as well,” he said, realization dawning. “The writing is close, but it’s not exact.” He read through the message once again, trying to see it through Bea’s eyes. It certainly looked legitimate. And in the heat of the moment, with her emotions high, it made sense she hadn’t stopped to compare the letter to some of the other cards he’d sent her during their relationship. He certainly hadn’t thought to do that at the time. “I can see why you believed I wrote this,” he said softly.
She nodded, her hazel eyes full of sadness. “Likewise.” She pursed her lips, exhaling in a long sigh. “My God,” she said, shaking her head. “How much time did we lose? When I think about what our lives would be like now if this had never happened...” She trailed off and swiped at her eyes.
Micah nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Bea was right. They’d probably be married by now, maybe with a child or two. He certainly wouldn’t have spent the past ten years trying to put his heart back together, wondering if he’d ever be able to find another woman who fit him so perfectly.
He reached out, needing to touch her. She moved readily into his arms, snuggling up against his chest as her breath hitched. “Hey.” He stroked her hair, running his hand down her back in a soothing caress. A sense of calm filled him as he held her. Last night’s kiss had been part reunion, part punishment. But this embrace was different. All his anger toward Bea, the years of hurt feelings and painful memories—it all melted away, like storm clouds disappearing on a sunny day. His feelings for her, including the love he’d thought he’d buried for good, rose to the surface, rushing to fill the empty spaces in his soul.
It was more than he’d ever dared hope for. In his wildest imaginings, Micah had never dreamed this moment was possible. He inhaled deeply, drawing her familiar floral scent deep into his lungs, needing to convince himself this was truly happening. Bea was here. She was real. And she had never stopped loving him.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. Guilt nipped at the edges of his happiness, reminding him they still had a lot to talk about.
Bea pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t send the letter. This isn’t your fault.”
Micah took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of her curves as his chest expanded. “I know. But I thought the worst of you. I should have made an effort to contact you, to ask for an explanation. But I let my hurt pride keep me from reaching out, and I was repeating that same mistake now.”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat with shame. “You told me last night that you missed me. I didn’t want to admit I felt the same way. I held on to my anger and hurt feelings, thinking you didn’t deserve an explanation. If you hadn’t forced me to talk, well...” He trailed off, his stomach twisting
at the thought of how close he’d come to missing the opportunity to set things right between them.
Bea reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand. Her palm was warm and soft against his skin, and he leaned into her touch. “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” she said softly. “You had every right to respond the way you did.”
“You went through the same thing, but you handled it a lot better,” he pointed out. “It took a lot of courage to say what you did last night, and to talk about it again today. I don’t think I could have been that brave.”
She laughed, the sadness leaving her eyes. “That’s funny. You’re a former Army Ranger and a police officer, and you think you’re not brave?” She shook her head and gave his arm a squeeze. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Micah tightened his embrace, needing her to understand. “That’s different. It’s one thing to put yourself in physical danger. It’s quite another to risk your heart.”
Bea grew quiet, digesting his words. “That’s true,” she said finally. “We both took a risk today. And I think it paid off.”
A small flame kindled to life in his chest, spreading tendrils of warmth through his body. The sensation was unfamiliar, and it took him a moment to realize what he was feeling.
Happiness.
True, unadulterated happiness. The kind of joy that only comes along every once in a while.
His life hadn’t been all doom and gloom since their breakup; he’d had moments of elation over the past ten years. Getting accepted to Ranger school and, later, making it through the K-9 training program. Goofing around with Duke and then Chunk. And a few moments of levity with his fellow Rangers and his coworkers on the force. But this was different. Before, his enjoyment of life had always felt incomplete, like he couldn’t celebrate with his whole being because he was missing parts of himself. But now, for the first time in a long time, Micah felt whole again.
“Does this mean you’re willing to give me another chance?” He held his breath even as he asked the question. But recent events had driven home the importance of risking his heart. He felt like a dog exposing his belly, but he needed Bea to know he trusted her and wanted her in his life.
“Only if you’ll do the same for me,” she said softly.
Micah’s heart leaped at her words. Before he could think better of it, he dropped his head and claimed her mouth with his own.
This time, he wasn’t afraid to show her how much he wanted her. He lowered his guard, worshiping her with his lips and tongue. Micah wanted Bea to feel cherished and appreciated, to know his fire for her hadn’t dimmed despite their years apart.
After a moment, he pulled back to draw a breath. Bea slowly opened her eyes, her gaze dreamy as she stared up at him. Micah wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bedroom down the hall, but he forced his muscles to relax.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “I think you know how much I want you, but I just realized it’s been ten years. We should probably pace ourselves, don’t you think?”
Disappointment flashed in her hazel eyes, but she nodded. “I suppose so.” Her kiss-swollen lips curved up in a sly grin. “But feel free to kiss me like that anytime you want.”
His groin throbbed with every beat of his heart, and he almost gave in to temptation. Fortunately, his brain caught up with him. No, he thought, with more than a little regret. We need to do this the right way. Micah wanted to build a new relationship with Bea, one that would last the rest of his life. That meant taking the time to get to know her again, to discover the woman she’d become. As much as he would enjoy getting physically reacquainted with her, it was more important they repair their emotional connection first.
“You’ve got a deal,” he said.
“Excellent.” She stepped back, glancing at the letter on the desk. Her smile faded as she stared at the paper.
Micah touched her cheek. “Forget about it,” he said softly. “We know the truth. Don’t let past mistakes bring you down now.”
Bea shook her head. “I won’t. But I just wish I could go back in time and change things.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, thinking of all the times he’d wished to do the same in the aftermath of the ambush. How many lives would have been saved, how many men would have emerged unscathed if only he had made a different choice? He’d nearly driven himself mad with the what-ifs and alternative possibilities. It was a struggle he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, and he definitely didn’t want Bea to fall down that particular rabbit hole of self-doubt and recrimination.
“Please believe me when I tell you thinking that way will only hurt you in the long run.”
She studied his face, and for a second, Micah felt like she could see through him. “Are you talking about the ambush?”
Shock hit him before he remembered he’d told her about Duke’s injuries. At some point, he would probably need to tell her more details about the attack, but he wasn’t feeling up for it right now. So he simply nodded.
“Do you still blame yourself?” Her voice was calm and soothing, and the stillness of her apartment made the moment seem almost confessional. In that instant, Micah knew he could tell Bea anything and she wouldn’t flinch or shy away from him.
It was on the tip of his tongue to explain exactly what had happened, but as he looked at her upturned face, he realized he didn’t want to fill her head with images of war and death, of men lying broken and bloody in the desert sand. Living through it had been bad enough; he didn’t want her touched by those moments, however removed they now were from that time and place.
“Sometimes,” he said, clearing his throat in an effort to dislodge the lump that always appeared when he thought of that day. “There was an after-action report, and my superiors said it wasn’t my fault. But it’s hard not to wonder if I made the wrong choices in the heat of the moment.”
Bea tilted her head to the side. “I’m not going to pretend to understand the nuances of the army,” she said. “But an after-action report sounds pretty serious to me. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing your bosses would sugarcoat in an effort to spare your feelings.”
Micah laughed at the ridiculous thought. “It’s not.”
She shrugged. “Then it sounds like you can trust that no one was lying or brushing aside your mistakes to make you feel better.”
“No, they definitely were not.”
She shrugged again, in a kind of there-you-go gesture. He smiled.
“What?” she asked, sounding a little wary.
“Nothing. It’s just—do you know how many therapy sessions it took for me to reach that understanding? And you figured it out in less than five minutes.”
Bea’s eyes widened. “Oh, Micah, I didn’t mean to sound so flippant. It wasn’t my intention to discount your experiences—”
He waved away her protest. “I’m not upset with you. I just think it’s funny how you were able to cut right to the heart of my issues, without even knowing the nitty-gritty details.”
“I get the impression you don’t want to talk about the details. But if you do, I’ll be here. I want to know everything that happened to you while we were apart.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because I want the same.” He reached out and took the letter from her. “So let’s tear these up and start fresh.”
“Yes to the starting fresh, but no to the tearing up.” She took the letter back and gathered up his, as well. “I’m not willing to let this go quite so easily.”
He had a sneaking suspicion Bea’s father had orchestrated the whole mix-up, but he didn’t want to suggest it. Fenwick Colton was a Grade-A asshole, but he was still Bea’s father, and Micah didn’t want to come between them. “Are you sure you don’t want to just put this behind us and move forward?”
Bea shook her head, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “No. I’m afraid I�
��m not that mature. I want answers, and I know exactly where to go to find them.”
Chapter 11
The next morning dawned clear and bright, the exact opposite of Bea’s mood. Micah pulled up in front of the multistory headquarters of Colton Energy and turned to face her.
“Are you sure about this? I’m happy to come with you.”
Bea shook her head. “I need to do this by myself.”
“Okay.” Micah’s green eyes were kind as he watched her. “If that’s what you think is best.” He reached over and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”
She smiled, feeling his concern like an embrace. “I know.” She reached for the door handle, then paused. “Can I ask you one thing before I go in?”
“Anything.”
“How are you so calm right now? I am spitting mad, but you seem almost blasé about the situation.”
Micah chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I’m furious. But I care more about you than I do about getting revenge.” He pulled her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Promise me you won’t do anything you’ll regret. I know he hurt you, but he’s still your father.”
Bea lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t know if I can make that promise,” she said, “but I will try. How’s that?”
Micah nodded. “I’ll settle for it.”
She leaned over and pressed her mouth to his, wanting to carry the feel of his lips against hers when she walked in to confront her father. Then she reached back to scratch Chunk behind the ears and opened the door. “I’ll call you.”
Micah waved and waited at the curb until she had walked through the front doors of the building. Bea paused in the lobby, watching him drive away. Part of her wanted him with her now, but she knew she would have better luck talking to her father alone. He’d never liked Micah, but until this moment, Bea hadn’t realized just how deep her father’s hatred ran.
Micah hadn’t been happy about the idea of leaving her alone, but she’d insisted. So Micah had made some calls, arranging for one of the building security officers to escort her everywhere. Bea considered it overkill, but Micah hadn’t been willing to budge on the issue.