“He’s not dead yet,” Noah said. But he knew that thought wasn’t high on the comfort meter.
“I know.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I also know all about sitting and waiting for it to happen.”
Ah hell.
“You’re not alone this time,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And, sweetheart, you can’t give up on Dominic. He’s going to pull through.”
I need him to make it out of surgery and get his ass back here.
“I hope so,” she said, her words hollow. And yeah, he’d bet there was a fifty-fifty chance she believed them.
“Where’s your dad?” he asked. “He must be upset.” Wasn’t that a fucking understatement? This might break the police chief.
“My dad left for the airport. He packed a bag and climbed into the truck after we got the call. I don’t think he stopped to book a flight. He just planned to show up at the terminal and find a way to get to Germany. He left his patrol car behind. I was supposed to take it to the station, but I came here first.”
Suddenly aware of the gravel digging into his knee, and the fact that he was wearing a towel, which wasn’t covering much with him kneeling like this, he released her face and withdrew his hand from her leg. But before he could stand, she reached for him and grabbed ahold of his wrist.
“I’m not ready for this, Noah. I’m not tough enough to see my dad cry, or, or any of it.” She glanced around the sedan. “Right now, I don’t even think I could drive this car back to the station. It’s a miracle I made it here.”
“You should go to Germany,” he said, the words out before he’d thought them through. He wanted her here, with him. But she’d be safe in Germany. And she’d be with Dominic just in case Noah’s faith in his friend’s ability to pull through didn’t hold.
She let out a harsh, dry laugh. “I can’t afford it.”
“If the army hasn’t offered to cover your travel and lodging that’s a good sign,” Noah said. Part of him wanted to quiz her on every little detail from the early-morning call. But he didn’t want to scare her.
“They did.” She blinked as if trying to fight a fresh wave of tears. But her efforts were no match for her grief. “But I’ll miss work. And I have bills due.”
“Go. I’ll cover your lost wages and tips.” With his free hand, he gently removed her grip on his wrist. Then he leaned into the patrol car and drew her out. He slipped one arm under her legs, his other supporting her back.
“Noah, it’s too much,” she murmured.
“I’m not worried about the money, Josie.”
But I’m fucking terrified for you, and for Dominic.
“If you’re sure.”
Slowly he straightened, cradling her in his arms. “Please, Josie. Just say thank you and let me help you this time.”
He was aware of her face pressed against his chest. He’d dried from the shower, but now her tears dampened the hair. Even though she was crying, she felt so damn good in his arms. Someone to hold on to. Someone to keep him from falling apart.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “But you don’t have to carry me.”
Holding you tight? That’s for me, sweetheart. To keep me from falling to pieces in my driveway while wrapped in a towel.
He tightened his hold and headed for the house. “Let me take you inside, get you a piece of pie, and then we’ll book your ticket. Later, I’ll find a way to get the patrol car back to the station. I’m sure your dad’s deputies understand. He’s probably briefed them by now.”
He kept his voice low and soothing as he rambled. If he were in her shoes—and shit, he was pretty damn close, Dominic had been like family to him—he’d want a barrage of reassurances blocking the bleak what-ifs from parading through his imagination. What if Dominic had already lost too much blood? Or what if his friend had lost a limb? What if he stayed alive but was never the same?
Noah clenched his teeth as he reached the porch steps. He refused to cry. Not here. Not now. He’d give her pie first. Get her settled. She didn’t need to see him fall apart.
“The pie’s pretty good. It’s the one Josh dropped off for Caroline.” He pushed through the door and headed for the kitchen table. Scanning the room, he didn’t see Caroline. He had a hunch she’d disappeared. Whether she’d run out of fear or out of respect for the emotional moment they’d shared in the driveway, he wasn’t sure.
Kicking the chair out with one foot, he lowered her down. And his blue bath towel followed her feet to the kitchen floor.
“I need to get dressed.” He’d retrieved the only thing keeping his naked ass covered while he focused on being a friend to Josie. She’d come to him. After last night, when she’d made it clear she didn’t need anyone, she’d driven straight to him. And he was pretty damn sure it was because she needed a friend.
He secured the towel around his waist and headed for the door. “Pie is there on the table. Plates are in the cupboard to the right of the sink and forks below. Help yourself.”
He took the stairs two at a time, half listening for movement in the kitchen. It sounded like she’d found the plates. Now, he needed clothes. And then . . .
He stepped into his bedroom. Dominic’s face stared back at him. There was a whole fucking collage from their senior year. He spotted Lily curled up in friend’s lap. Lily and Dominic side by side after a game. Someone had called Lily, right? Dominic had broken up with her. First after he’d left for basic training and then again when he’d completed Ranger School. Noah had taken it as a sign that Dominic didn’t plan to call Forever home again. He guessed Lily had too. But she still stopped by the bar now and then to ask about him.
Pulling off his towel, he hung it over the pictures. He turned around and there was Dominic’s face again. The three friends in their uniforms, arms slung across each other’s shoulders. He kicked the table and the frame fell forward, crashing into the wooden surface.
What the hell happened out there, Dom?
He thumped his fist against the wall over the nightstand. But fuck—hitting the wall hurt. Leaning his head forward, he closed his eyes and let the tears flow. He’d fought to hold them back since he’d run to Josie’s side in the parking lot. But now he felt like he was going to explode if he held them in any longer.
“Don’t you fucking die, buddy,” he murmured, his face still buried against his arm. “Please.”
“Noah?”
He lifted his head, but didn’t turn to look at her. He didn’t want to give her proof that she’d walked in on him naked, crying, and hoping like hell her brother would live.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly.
“I heard the banging.” Her voice grew closer with each word. He felt her hand on his back, gently resting on his shoulder blade. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Fuck it. Let her see the tears. She’d come here red-eyed and weeping. She hadn’t tried to hide her pain.
“I’m not, Josie. I’m so damn far from OK.” He turned around, letting her see all of him, broken down and battered by the news that his friend might die and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Me neither.” She reached her hands up and cupped his cheeks, wiping away his tears with her thumbs.
He reached for her, pulling her close, needing to feel her cheek against his chest, her body against his. And yeah, he was still naked. He should probably ask her to wait outside while he found some damn shorts, and then take her back to the kitchen for more pie.
“Noah?” she whispered.
He closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m scared,” he murmured.
“That he’ll die?” she asked, her voice trembling.
That he’ll die. That if he makes it, he won’t even recognize himself.
He felt her tears start to flow as if he’d turned on
a faucet. Shit, he was a jerk for making her cry again.
“Josie.” He lifted his head, placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her back. Her eyes swam with helplessness and fear. And he wanted to make it all go away. He wanted to erase her pain and strip away his own. He hated the fear, demanding his attention.
But what the hell could he do?
His gaze fell to her parted, trembling lips. He could escape. The fear, the pain, the tears . . .
He lowered his lips to hers. Running his tongue over her lower lip, he waited for her to push free.
But her arms wound around his neck. Her fully clothed body pressed up against him. And he kissed her harder, deeper, losing himself in the feel of her mouth. She tasted like sugar and bourbon. She was intoxicating.
And right now?
She was saving him.
Chapter Eighteen
JOSIE UNDERSTOOD GRIEF. She could navigate the fog that descended when the Bad News Bears arrived and delivered their doom-and-gloom message.
Your brother has been injured.
Your brother needs surgery.
She had heard those words and the haze had swallowed her. There was no way out. She knew that. The bears stood guard, keeping her locked in fear and anguish.
Until Noah kissed her.
One kiss from a man who was fighting the same fears didn’t change a thing. But oh God, it felt so good. The touch of his lips, the feel of his hands pulling at her shirt as if he needed to touch the skin beneath . . .
Her body responded, demanding more, needing to feel more. She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his broad back, down to his waist and around to his chiseled abs. Her tongue touched his as she traced her fingers over his six-pack.
So much strength.
Gliding her hands upward, she pressed her palms flat against his chest, dimly aware of his fingers toying with the button on her pants. He tugged at her zipper, but didn’t bother pushing her pants down over her hips. He simply slipped his hands inside and drew her to him, keeping a firm hold on her ass.
Groaning, she broke away from his kiss and tipped her head back. His mouth trailed kisses over her jaw, down her throat, as if he needed to taste every inch of her.
More. I need more.
She wanted to keep the fog of grief locked outside his bedroom. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel. She needed him right now because she couldn’t step into that place where the world felt like it was falling apart, spiraling out of control. Not yet.
“It’s not fair,” she murmured, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling.
His lips hovered over the swell of her breasts peeking out over the top of her shirt. “Not much is.”
Oh no, don’t go there.
“You’re naked and I’m not,” she said, drawing him back to this place where physical desire dominated.
He let out a low laugh as his tongue glided over her skin, licking just above the edge of her T-shirt. “Not fair at all.”
She broke away from him and stripped off her clothes. Her movements were rushed and she nearly fell over trying to get out of her pants. But she wasn’t looking to seduce him. She wanted to take him, fighting her way to a mutual pleasure that would block out everything else.
His brow knitted together as he watched her. “Are you sure—”
“Shhh.” She placed her index finger over her lips. “I need you, Noah. I’m not calling, sending a letter, or a pigeon. I’m right here and I need—”
His lips captured hers, his hands on her hips, drawing her close and then guiding her back. Her legs touched the bed and she lowered down, sitting on the edge. She took him with her.
I won’t let go.
Noah dropped to one knee, his hands moving to her breasts. She leaned back and he followed, moving over her.
Wrapping her legs around his hips, she held him close. He didn’t pull away, or try to second-guess her. He just slid inside.
“More,” she whispered.
He stared down at her, his cheeks still damp from his tears. But he wasn’t crying now; he was looking at her as if she was everything he needed. And he was pumping into her hard and fast. There was nothing gentle or careful about his movements. It was as if he needed to take as much as he could, as if he was depending on her . . .
I can’t be strong enough for both of us.
She closed her eyes and let her hands roam. He had to meet her halfway, rescue her just a little . . .
His hips slammed into her. His right elbow pressed into the bed beside her shoulder and his upper body hovered over her. But his other hand wandered, gliding over her torso, reaching between them. His thumb brushed over the spot guaranteed to send her spiraling into pleasure. But then he stopped.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. I promise I won’t turn into an idiot, calling out professions of love.
“Ready?” he demanded. “Because I can’t hold back.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
He thrust into her again, his thumb offering one more teasing touch as plain old missionary pushed her over the edge. She took the sweet relief, holding tight to the pleasure. She did not love this man. She refused to hand over her heart.
But she loved everything about this orgasm.
“Noah. Oh, Noah.” She chanted his name as if it would prolong the escape.
But one more thrust and he groaned, his face contorting as he came. His lips curled back and he looked as if was growling, a pure animalistic reaction to taking her, claiming her, and oh God—
“We didn’t . . .” she said, her hand pushing at his chest, trying to get him off her. It was too late. She knew it was too late. “Oh God, Noah.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, obeying her frantic scrambling to get him off her. He withdrew from her body and collapsed on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. They’d been in such a rush to feel something other than pain, to push away the tears, that they’d fallen sideways across the full-sized bed. And they’d forgotten the most important thing.
“We didn’t use a condom,” she said.
He rolled onto his side and propped his head against his hand, his elbow pressing into the rumpled bedding. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. Concern showed in his blue eyes. “I wasn’t thinking straight, sweetheart. I can promise you I’m clean. I wasn’t a saint these past five years, but I didn’t screw around like some of the other guys.”
She shook her head, not wanting to picture him screwing anyone else. Not right now while she was lying naked beside him, after he’d come inside her.
“I stopped taking the pill,” she said, her voice hollow. How could she have let this happen? “I figured I wasn’t great at remembering it anyway, seeing as I got pregnant. I meant to get an IUD. But I looked up the cost . . .”
“It’s going to be OK.” Noah drew her into his arms and she went, resting her head against his chest. He felt so strong, the muscles in his arms taut as they lay on the bed. “The chances are slim—”
“I can’t lose another baby,” she whispered.
“You won’t.” His hold tightened as if he could physically force the possibility away. “You could always take a morning-after pill before you leave for Germany.”
“I could.” But despite the bubbling fear, she couldn’t bring herself to go to a doctor and ask to wipe away the possibility of a child. She couldn’t lose another baby, not to a pill or an early delivery.
Of course, she wasn’t in a position to have a child. But still, after fighting so hard for her baby to live, she couldn’t erase another before he even had a chance . . .
“But,” she began.
“You don’t have to take anything, Josie. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. And you don’t need to send a pigeon this time. I’m not going anywhere. And I’ll be here when you get
back from Germany.”
She nodded, and the fear she’d pushed away for a few blissful—and potentially disastrous—minutes, returned. Her brother might be dying. She might never get to hear him laugh, or give her shit for, well, just about anything. And she might never get to see his expression when she told him she’d gotten naked with his best friend.
“It’s going to be OK, Josie,” he said as if he could make everything—Dominic, her potential pregnancy—A-OK through sheer willpower.
“Maybe.”
She closed her eyes. You can do this. You can face anything.
She might be lying to herself. But she didn’t have a choice. She needed to be strong because Noah couldn’t rush in to play the hero this time. She’d found him reduced to tears, his emotions raw when she entered his room. He was in this with her.
With her head still resting against his chest, she wrapped her arm around him and held tight.
I’ll be your anchor if you’ll be mine, because if we send out a pigeon, I don’t think anyone will rush to our rescue.
Chapter Nineteen
HER BROTHER, THE army ranger, had taken two rounds to the chest, penetrating the lungs and hitting a major artery. And a third bullet had shot straight through his hand. Now, machines surrounded him, their beeping oddly familiar.
Three bullet wounds require the same blinking, beeping machines as a premature baby.
Josie followed the lines on the screen tracking her brother’s heartbeats. He’d survived two surgeries to repair the damage to his chest. She glanced at the long tube peeking out from under the hospital bedding. The tube ended in another machine, but it began in his left lung.
She looked up at him. A series of scratches covered one cheek. It looked as if he’d rubbed his face up against a rock. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Her brother had tubes coming out of his chest, his hand was bandaged to the point it was unrecognizable, but the marks on his face brought her to tears.
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