by Jillian Hart
“Are you serious about this?” He unwrapped his first burger and took a bite.
“Pretty.” Hawk dragged three fries through a puddle of ketchup and munched on them. “It’s not the same since we lost Tim.”
“Nothing is.” They hardly spoke of his loss. Even thinking about his brother made the shrapnel of grief cut deeper into his heart. Carrying Tim’s coffin and laying him to rest had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it, too, but quitting isn’t for me.”
That was enough said. They both felt it. Talk turned to the game that came on. But something had changed. The personal price for what they did ran high. No argument there. Some days it felt too high. On other days, it was worth every bit it cost and more.
One price was life. He’d lost a few soldiers under his command and comrades he loved like family. He’d lost Tim, who used to trail him everywhere as a little boy, who could climb trees higher than anyone else had the nerve to and who had once loved to play in the creek that meandered along the property line, separating his folks’ place from Hawk’s family’s land. The three of them had been simple country boys, barefoot and running through the fields and forest, playing childish games of make-believe.
Another cost was the life others had. He’d gotten a good dose of that today seeing the campus. It was a cost he thought about long after Hawk had said good-night and left for his room next door. A cost that troubled him in the dark.
He tossed and turned on the mattress, listening to heat fan from the wall unit, unable to forget the image of Lexie Evans, with snow clinging to her jet-black hair, balancing on her crutches in the middle of the dormitory hallway. Life had surrounded her, all that she was experiencing, all that she was learning, and the people she had time to get to know.
There was only room in his life for discipline and service. It was his choice, so why was he thinking of her?
“Let me get a pillow for your foot,” Amber was saying as she set Lexie’s backpack on the carpet by one of the chairs in their fourth-floor lounge. “I tore up my ankle when I was running track one year, and the two weeks I was on crutches were torture. What else can I fetch for you?”
“I’m fine. Really.” Lexie leaned her crutches against the brick wall and eased into the chair. Talk about relief. She’d had a light morning since the earlier classes had been cancelled because of the storm, but she was more exhausted than ever. She put her awkward cast up on the pillow-topped ottoman. “Thanks, Amber. I owe you big-time.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve helped me out, like, a million times.” The girl flashed a quick smile, gave a finger wave. “I’ve got to hit the books. I have this killer poetry paper due on Monday.”
“Good luck.” Lexie reached for the TV remote on the coffee table. Her stomach rumbled, but she hadn’t felt up to tackling the cafeteria during the noon rush. She channel-surfed through the movie channels, finally settling on an old favorite. The black-and-white hero was larger than life and entirely heroic. She might not believe in love for herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a good romantic movie.
“Do you want us to get you anything, Lexie?” Rose Everly called out.
“I’m good. Thanks.” She smiled at sweet, thoughtful Rose, who had a thick volume of Dickens clutched in the crook of her arm. “I’m going down later.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need help.” She scampered out of sight, her footfalls light on the stairs.
“Room service.” A familiar baritone rumbled behind her.
“Pierce?” She squinted over the back of the chair, sure she had to be imagining him. He looked good behind the trays of food he balanced. His short, dark hair was wind-tousled and made darker by the navy blue MCU sweatshirt he wore. “I see you made a stop at the bookstore.”
“Yep. If I’m going to spend a day on campus, I’m going to do it right. As an MCU Cougar.” He set the trays on the nearby coffee table. The delicious aromas of French dip, fries and apple crisp scented the air as he dropped into the chair next to her. “Giselle and I were standing in line to get swiped at the dining hall and we spotted you going into the elevator. I thought I’d bring you lunch. Figured you might have a hard time on that slick floor. Everyone has tracked in snow, including me.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you. I’m totally going to have to change my opinion of you now.”
“You mean it wasn’t good before this?”
“Of course it was, but it’s higher now. That’s hard to do.” She didn’t want to be glad to see him. She shouldn’t be pleased that he had thought of her, but she was. “I can’t believe your sister let you go. She was practically skipping down the hall this morning because her big brother was coming.”
“She’s been bouncing all morning. She hauled me to two of her classes. Then wrote notes to me the entire time, and there was no way I could snooze. I had to pay attention.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“My head is spinning from all the information I couldn’t help absorbing. I’ve always wondered what I missed by not going to college. Now I know. A headache from too much thinking and a backache from packing all those big textbooks around.”
“Those are my two biggest problems,” she said lightly. “Just as I’m sure that your biggest problems are blisters from marching around in your boots and traveling all over the world.”
“Yep, those are my only hardships.” He hauled the coffee table between the chairs as a makeshift table. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his work. The weight of it felt like an anvil, heavy, serious and ever present. This campus was a different world from his. This moment, a separate peace. “How’s the ankle?”
“How do ya think?” Her eyes were sparkling and the color was back in her face. She apparently didn’t want to elaborate. “Will you say grace, or should I?”
“Go for it.” He was curious what she would say. Something standard or something cute? She was the cute type, he could see it now, in her boot-cut jeans, which accommodated her cast, and trendy blue sweater, which brought out the deep sapphire color of her eyes.
“Dear Father.” She bowed her head. Her black hair tumbled forward to curtain her face. “Please keep us mindful of our blessings and of Your grace in our lives. Bless this food and our new friendship. Amen.”
“Amen.” He unclasped his hands and nudged one of the trays closer, so she could reach it more easily. “So, you think we’re friends?”
“It’s a perilous thought, I know! Any guy who carries me down a mountain is definitely in the friend category. It’s automatic. I think it’s a state law or something.” She daintily unfolded a paper napkin and spread it across her knees.
“It’s probably in the state constitution.” He could quip, too. “So, you really want to be friends?”
“Maybe you have more friends than you can count, but I cherish every friendship I can get.”
He could see that about her. She was friendly and light, but careful somehow. When she spoke to you, it was as if she thought you were important enough to really listen to. As if you had her respect. He liked it. Okay, maybe he just liked her.
But not a lot. He wasn’t about to get attached or anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really let someone behind his armor. Maybe he never really had.
“I made some buddies in the Army.” He took a bite of the sandwich. It was pretty good. Better than the chow he was used to. “You met Hawk. I’m tight with my team of guys.”
“I can see that about you.” She neatly gathered up her sandwich with both slender hands. “What about your childhood friends? Do you keep in touch with them?”
“I did for a while after I first got in.” His chest went cold; there it was again, that feeling that he was out of sync with the world. “My high school buddies and me, we don’t have much in common these days. It’s been eight years since graduation.”
“Don’t you go back to visit and see family and friends?”
�
�Now and then, but I mostly get only short trips. Enough time for a quick family visit and that’s it. Then I’m gone again.” He took another bite so he wouldn’t have to say more.
“You must feel like a world apart. You visit, catch up and disappear for a long time.” She studied him thoughtfully as she pushed a slice of roast beef into place between the thick French bread. “Then the next time you visit, everything is different.”
“That’s it.” How she understood, he didn’t know. He felt some of the iron around his heart ease a tad. “Two weeks ago I was taking machine-gun fire. Now I’m sitting in a dorm lounge eating lunch with you. In another two weeks, I’ll be back in the sandbox. That’s real life for me. The rest of this is like a dream.”
“Except this is my life. I can’t imagine yours.” She reached for the cup of iced tea and took a sip. “It must take a lot of fortitude and mental toughness to do your job.”
“You make it sound noble. I don’t know about that. Being a soldier is tough, sure, and there are a lot of things harder in life.”
“Yes, but being a soldier has to be one of the most stressful things ever.” She wasn’t going to let him get away with being humble. “Under pressure, in danger, sacrificing comforts and pushing yourself so hard. It makes my life look simple.”
“Everything comes at a cost, whether it’s good or bad.” He looked remote again, as if he had come close to telling her the truth about himself, as if he had come close to opening up and changed his mind. “What about you? You’re working hard to put yourself through school. You have a goal. You could be out doing something easier with your life, but instead here you are. Forgoing comfort and fun for something more important.”
“That’s how you see your life. As doing something more important?”
“I do.” He took another bite of his sandwich, chewing away and looking quite content to do so.
So he wouldn’t have to elaborate. Oh, she had him figured out. He liked to stay on the surface of things, too. It was safer to stay closed up.
She knew how that was, so she let him have his way. She changed the subject, but not her opinion of him. No, that was going up a notch every time they met. “What does Giselle have planned for you tonight?”
“Some symphony thing. I didn’t ask for details.”
“The music department is putting on its midsemester concert series. It’s really good. Something tells me you’re not the kind of guy who appreciates Bach.”
“That would be safe to say.”
He was entirely far too sure of himself with that grin on his way-too-handsome face, as confident as a conquering hero. But there was more to him, glimpses of authenticity she saw beneath his shields. Bits of sadness and pieces of loss. A measure of courage and a man who tried to do the right thing. Most of all, she saw loneliness. This man, who had carried her to safety and brought her home, who sacrificed his chance for an easier life, felt out of sync with his family. He had lost his friends along the way.
She ached for him. Worse, she sort of liked him. What was the point in fighting it? She took the last bite of her sandwich, hoping she wouldn’t regret what she was about to do. “Maybe you and Giselle need some company. I have season tickets. We could go together tonight.”
“Do you always invite yourself along like that?”
“Never.” She liked that his shadows eased and he seemed brighter, clearer, as if his armor wasn’t deflecting quite as much. “Maybe I would like to go with Giselle, but since you’re there you’ll just have to put up with me, too.”
“I think I can manage it. I’m Army-tough.”
“Isn’t that a commercial?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He certainly looked tough enough to stand for what was right and good.
Did her heart sigh, just a little? She couldn’t believe it. Of course, her heart was completely unaffected. Or was she clinging firmly to denial? She took a sip of iced tea, letting its sweet coolness reassure her. No, it was merely respect she felt for her new friend and nothing more.
Chapter Four
In the second movement of the first Brandenburg Concerto, she heard a faint rustle as the man seated beside her leaned close.
“Hand me your phone.” His whisper was nearly nonexistent. His hand shot out, palm up.
“Is that an order, soldier?”
“Absolutely.” That single word held a note of humor. “Do it, or it’s the brig for you.”
“Tempting.” She handed the phone over with a smile. The question remained, what was he going to do with it? She had to lean a little closer to find out, didn’t she? It wasn’t as if she wanted to be nearer to him. It was a matter of necessity. She had to know what he was looking up on her phone, right?
“Interesting.” He began hitting buttons. Was he putting in his phone number? Looked like it. When he pressed the phone into her hand, it was warm from his touch.
Something down deep in her spirit shivered, but she denied that, too. Apparently, she was very adept at denial. Who knew? While she was at it, she decided to deny the pain beating through her ankle and the uncomfortable swelling beneath the cast.
She tucked the phone into her purse and tried to focus on the lilt of the piccolo. But what was she aware of? Pierce as he covertly tugged his cell from his pocket, flipped it open and quietly tapped at the keys.
She was so not surprised when her purse began to vibrate silently. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had texted her. She bent for her phone, and when she saw the screen and his message there, she could imagine the deep intonation of his words and the warmth of his humor.
“Is it me, or is this music boring?” he’d typed.
“It’s U,” she typed in reply.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grinning. Her phone quaked and there was his message on the screen. “I’d rather be yawning.”
“Sure. Considering the way U ski.” She well remembered her first impression of him, the blur streaking by whooping out “banzai.” Hard to imagine then that she would be sitting with him listening to a symphony. She hit Send.
He grinned at her message and texted back. “I’m not the skier with the broken ankle.”
“True.” How could she deny that one? “It’s nice that U R enduring this.”
“Giselle likes this stuff. Boggling.” His reply came quick, right in time with the crescendo of the music.
“She is a music major.” Lexie glanced over at the girl sitting on Pierce’s other side. Giselle was scowling at him, as if she couldn’t take him anywhere, but it was a loving look more than a censuring one. That fondness said more than anything about the man beside her.
“She’s showing me what I’m missing.” His words flashed on her screen. “Not working.”
“Classical music isn’t your thing?” she asked, expecting a certain reaction as she sent it.
His muffled snort of laughter made her smile.
“Not even close. Is it yours?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s a great luv of mine.” It was only the truth.
“R U kidding?” He looked shocked.
“No. Half the music on my iPod is classical.” Part of her was afraid that she was a geek for confessing it. Then again, maybe it was good he knew this about her right up front. It was proof they could never be more than friends. She kept typing. “U R never speaking to me again, right?”
“Wrong.” His answer was swift, as if there wasn’t a moment of debate. “It’s not so bad. Or U.”
“Neither R U.” She smiled inside as she tapped at the tiny keys. Those three words stared back at her on the screen. Did she send them?
“We’re free.” Pierce peered over her shoulder. “The music is over.”
“No, soldier. That was only the first half.” Up close, she could see the shadows in his eyes, the reminder of some of the things he had revealed to her. No one looking at him would see anything less than a good, decent and strong man. Yes, she liked him. Very much.
&nbs
p; “The first half? You mean it’s not over?” Crushed, he glanced around the emptying auditorium. The light crowd of students and townies filed down the aisles and streamed out the exits in search of refreshments. The crisp scent of coffee filled the air. Pierce stood rooted in place. “There’s more?”
“It could be worse.” She deleted her message and tucked away her phone.
“How, exactly?” he quipped, but she could tell he was only kidding. “Giselle, Lexie looks pale. I’m taking her home if she wants to leave early.”
His hand caught hers, to help her to her feet. She felt the impact of his solid palm against hers, and it was like an avalanche’s sudden strike. The earth went missing from under her feet. His iron-strong hand clasped around hers was her only anchor. Before she could draw her next breath, the floor stabilized, and she was standing without remembering how she’d gotten up. Her hand was still tucked in Pierce’s.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. She couldn’t seem to think straight. “My ankle is really protesting.”
“Pierce, I can’t believe you lasted this long. It’s a good sign.” Giselle steepled her hands together, shining with happiness. “See? You like it here. I’m going to have you enrolled by Monday. I’m sure of it!”
“That’s a little optimistic, kid.” Affection softened his features, but it did not change his shadows. Darkness seemed a part of him as he hauled the crutches from beneath their seats and held them for her.
His nearness made her dizzy. She wrapped her fingers around the hand holds and pulled the crutches beneath her arms. Transferring her weight, she moved forward. Thank goodness there was no one left in the aisle, since the incline was hard to crutch. It didn’t help that Pierce was at her side, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back as if to steady her. She did not doubt that if she slipped, he would keep her from falling.
Her palms went damp, and that didn’t help the crutching situation. Her pulse fluttered like a kite in a high wind. Probably from the exertion of heaving her body weight with every step, that was all. Nothing to worry about, right?