Cold Feet

by Samantha A. Cole

  That brought up a problem though. A big one.

  Buck was seeing a psychiatrist once a week to help him deal with his PTSD, but after trying several recommended drugs on the market, which had side effects such as severe depression, loss of appetite and sex drive, and mind fog, he’d refused to take them anymore. That meant he was still dealing with one or two flashbacks per week while he was awake and having nightmares more often than not. There was no way he could risk falling asleep in the same bed as Regina—not when there was a chance he’d be fighting for his life—at least his subconscious would think he was. He’d be kicking and throwing punches, and just the thought of doing that with Regina by his side, aware of the horrors he was reliving, made him sick to his stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, running her hand up and down his bare chest in a soothing manner.

  He set his hand on top of hers, stilling it. “We have to talk about something.”

  “Okaaaay.”

  The wariness in that one word had him shifting and glancing down at her. Shit. Her gaze was filled with worry. He could imagine all the different questions running through her mind. He placed a gentle kiss on her furrowed brow. “No, I’m not going to take off running again. I don’t regret what we just did. Yes, I loved every minute of it and can’t wait to do it again. And you’re the most beautiful woman I know—sexiest too. Did I cover everything? Any other concerns?”

  Her smile was back, and she lifted her chin, silently asking for a kiss. Of course, he obliged her. Once she settled her head back on his shoulder again, she said, “Yes, you covered everything. But that means you want to talk about something else I’m not aware of.”

  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “I told you about my PTSD, right?”

  “Yes, a little bit. I figured you’d talk about it more when you were ready.”

  He snorted. “I don’t think anyone is ever ready to really talk about it, but there are times it’s necessary. Anyway, I get flashbacks when I’m awake and nightmares when I’m asleep, although, sometimes, I can’t tell them apart. I do have more issues when I’m asleep, though. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. As much as I love having you in my bed, I won’t be able to sleep with you—I mean fall asleep with you. I can’t risk getting caught up in a nightmare and punching and kicking with you next to me. You also can’t approach me if I’m having a nightmare, because, in my mind, I’m not here, Gi—I’m somewhere else, somewhere really bad. You can’t try to shake me awake or anything because I’ll probably swing at you. It would kill me if I hurt you like that.

  “So, whenever you sleep over, which I’m hoping you’ll do someday soon, after you fall asleep, I’ll go sleep on the couch that’s coming. Then, in the morning, I’ll slip back into bed with you and wake you up—nice and slow.” He grinned with those last few words, trying to lighten the mood that always accompanied conversations concerning his PTSD.

  “Okay.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s okay. Am I happy about sleeping in this big bed alone? No. Do I understand your reasoning? Of course I do, Buck. I know if I forced you to sleep with me, you wouldn’t actually fall asleep because you’d be afraid of hurting me, and that wouldn’t be fair to you. I hope it won’t always be like that, but whatever you need to do to get you through the days and nights, I’m willing to support you. I’m not going anywhere. But I also wouldn’t object to you bringing me breakfast in bed, every once in a while, before you slip back in and wake me up—nice and slow.”

  In that moment, Buck fell the rest of the way for Regina Vaughn. He was completely and utterly in love with her—he just wasn’t ready to tell her that yet.

  Buck couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous. It wasn’t every day a guy told his best friend he was in love with the man’s sister and he was sleeping with her. Well, not exactly sleeping, but he wasn’t going to come right out and say the three-letter S-word. Buck knew how queasy he felt when his sister and brother-in-law got all lusty-eyed for each other in his presence. No guy wanted to think about his sister having sex. It ranked right up there with imagining his parents doing the dirty deed—nauseating.

  Striding into the maintenance building, he said hello to Ryan’s secretary as he passed her and entered the open door to his friend’s office, closing it behind him. Ryan was sitting behind his desk with a stack of papers that looked like invoices in front of him. He glanced up. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Dropping onto the only guest chair in the room, Buck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Got a few minutes?”

  Ryan tossed the pen he’d been using on top of the papers and leaned back. “Sure.”

  Taking a deep breath, Buck let it out slowly. Suddenly, the chair seemed too confining. He stood and paced back and forth while Ryan’s gaze followed him. “I don’t know how to say this. I mean, I’ve been trying all week to find the words. It’s . . . it’s just really hard.”

  “What are you talking about, Buck?” Concern laced his tone and bloomed on his face.

  Taking the bull by the horns, Buck stopped in front of the desk and blurted, “I’m dating Gi.”

  Ryan froze and blinked a few times, then burst out laughing, the loud sound filling the room and bouncing off the walls. “Oh, crap! For a moment there, I thought you said you’re dating Gi.”

  Rolling his eyes, Buck crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m not kidding, Ry. I’m dating your sister.”

  The room filled with testosterone-edged tension as Ryan’s laughter died down and he scowled. “No, you’re not. No fucking way are you dating Regina.”

  “Listen, hear me out before you get all pissed and start swinging at me.”

  “Before I get pissed? There is no before! Because I’m already fucking there, dude. You. Are. Not. Dating. My sister.”

  “She’s an adult, Ry. She can date anyone she wants. This isn’t something new . . . at least, not for me. I’ve liked her for a long time now but never acted on it, except a kiss years ago. I fucked up and hurt her—not intentionally, and I really regret it. I was in a bad place, in between deployments, and didn’t want to pull her into that. She’s had it in her head for all these years that she was the problem. We’ve talked about it recently and got past it. We’ve been out on a few dates and knew we couldn’t and shouldn’t hide it from you anymore. I care for her a lot, man. Hell, I’m in love with her.”

  Ryan jumped to his feet, sending his chair crashing into the wall, and leaned on his hands on the desktop, glaring at him. Buck half expected the guy to vault over the desk and tackle him. “What the hell, Buck? My goddamn sister? You’re fucking Gi?”

  He growled, anger that matched Ryan’s flaring in his eyes as he took a warning step toward his friend. “Watch your mouth, Ry. This isn’t some random chick I’m having a short fling with here.”

  “No, it’s not some random chick—it’s my fucking sister!”

  “Who is the last person in the world I would intentionally hurt. Damn it. This didn’t just happen out of nowhere. She and I have been dancing around this thing between us for years. I thought I would stop wanting her, needing her, after she got engaged. I thought I could forget about how I felt about her. But it didn’t happen. I love her, Ry. I really love her. Would you rather her be with some jackass you don’t know or like, or someone you know almost as well as you know yourself? A man who cares deeply for her, who knows how special she is to you? Someone who will treat her like she’s the most precious thing on Earth?”

  Ryan exhaled heavily. As the breath left his lungs, it seemed to take some of his ire with it. The tension in his arms, shoulders, and jaw eased. After a moment, he grabbed the arm of his chair, rolled it back into position, and sat down again. “Jesus.” He ran a hand down his face. “You couldn’t have given a guy some kind of warning before throwing that at him on a Monday fucking morning?”

  It was a rhetorical question. The wheels in Ryan’s brain appea
red to be spinning, contemplating, and Buck gave him a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts. He dropped into the guest chair again and waited his friend out.

  Pinning him with a glare, with far less heat than before, Ryan said, “You better not hurt her, Buck. You’re my best friend, but she’s my sister. Don’t make me beat the living shit out of you.”

  He snorted. “As if you could. Listen. The last thing I would ever do is hurt her intentionally. But whether or not this thing between us works out, every couple has their arguments. I don’t want you throwing down with me because she’s upset I left the toilet seat up or something.”

  With that, his friend let out a chuckle. “I get it. No throw downs over toilet seats.” He shook his head. “My sister? Really?”

  A smile spread across Buck’s face for the first time that morning. “Really.”

  Regina wasn’t certain what had awoken her, but it took her a moment to remember she wasn’t in her own bed. After making love, then having dinner, followed by another round of sex that’d been much raunchier and orgasmic than the first, she’d dozed off in Buck’s arms. She hated that he was afraid to let down his guard and fall asleep next to her, but she understood his reasoning. Maybe over time, he’d be more comfortable and find that sleeping with her reduced his nightmares.

  She wished his therapist could do more for him or there was a new drug that could help without all the nasty side effects, but no matter what, she wasn’t going to let his flashbacks and nightmares drive her away. He meant too much to her for her to not want to stand by him through thick and thin.

  Sitting up, she thought about the wedding vows she was supposed to have taken months ago. “. . . for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part . . .” While she hadn’t been able to say those words to Edward, she knew in her heart she could say them to Buck. Whether it happened tomorrow or five years from now, she would still be willing to take those vows.

  An odd sound from outside the bedroom caught her attention. “Buck?” she called out softly but received no answer. She tried again, a little louder. “Buck? Is that you?”

  When she still didn’t get a response, she tossed the sheets off her naked body and stood. Glancing around, she spotted the T-shirt he’d worn earlier and pulled it on over her head. It was several sizes too big on her, but she got a kick out of wearing it. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, which lit up the room just enough for her not to freak at the darkness, read 2:21 a.m. She tucked her feet into a fuzzy pair of white slippers Buck had gotten for her, not wanting her walking around barefoot or in stocking feet while the interior of the house was still being worked on.

  Another sound—a man’s anguished voice crying out—had her hurrying to the closed door and yanking it open. Again, she heard the voice and, that time, was able to determine it was Buck’s.

  Regina rushed out to the living room and slid to a stop on the recently installed wood flooring with its highly buffed varnish, her heart and gut clenching. Buck was lying on the new couch, his eyes shut, and his face contorted, as if in pain. His body was writhing. The blanket on top of him was entwined between and around his legs, preventing him from kicking his feet free, and a pillow was on the floor.

  “No! Adkins, get down!” Sweat poured off him as he barked out orders to people only his mind could see. “Corpsman! Man down! Jeffries, watch the left flank!” He grabbed the back cushion of the couch and twisted it in his fist. “Incoming!”

  Regina couldn’t watch it anymore. She stepped forward, cautiously. “Buck! Wake up! It’s me, Regina.”

  She didn’t get through to him. His voice went from mumbles to shouts and back again. He was fighting an invisible enemy—although it probably seemed real to him in his unconscious state.

  Taking a few more steps, she closed the distance between them, hesitating only a moment before moving around to the other side of the glass coffee table they’d bought with all the other new furniture. With a trembling hand, she reached out and shook his shoulder. “Buck! Wake up!”

  His eyes flew open, and there was a feral look in them. In what seemed like a fraction of a second, he grasped her wrist with one hand and thrust his other at her torso. Regina’s feet came out from underneath her as pain bloomed in her diaphragm. She lost her breath as she went reeling backward and crashed on top of the coffee table. The glass broke under the weight and shock, dropping her to the ground in severe agony as her back was sliced open. Her head slammed against the floor, adding to her pain. Black and white dots flashed in front of her eyes.

  It’d all happened so fast, she hadn’t even screamed, and now, as she struggled to breathe, it was impossible to say anything.

  “Gi! Oh my God!” Buck had gotten to his feet and was standing over her, horror contorting his features as he realized what’d happened. “Gi, are you okay? Shit! Don’t . . . don’t move.”

  Regina’s head swam, and she closed her eyes to fight back the pain, double vision, and nausea assaulting her.

  “Yes! I need an ambulance at . . .” He rattled off his address, fear and shock lacing his tone. “My girlfriend is hurt—please hurry! Oh my God, Gi! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. I-I didn’t mean it! Oh, God, please tell them to hurry!”

  His cell phone ringing pulled Ryan out of a deep sleep. He blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted to the dark bedroom. He had no idea what time it was, but it was still the middle of the night. No sunlight peeked in from behind the shades covering the two windows in his bedroom.

  As the annoying ringing continued, Ryan groaned and turned onto his side, reaching out for the offensive device on his nightstand. He glanced at the screen. Largo Ridge Hospital. That brought him fully awake and sitting up. He hit the connect button, and his voice was raspy when he said, “Hello?”

  “Ryan! You have to help Buck! They arrested him!”

  Regina was hysterical, her voice screeching to the point he had to pull the phone a little further from his ear. “Gi! Calm down. What’re you talking about? Where are you?”

  “Please, you have to tell them it was all my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Damn it, Gi, what happened?”

  She began sobbing, making it harder for him to understand her. He grabbed his pants from the floor, not even recalling getting out of the bed. Suddenly, a male voice came on the line. “Vaughn? It’s Josh Boyd.”

  “Josh? What the fuck is going on? Where’s my sister?” The man had gone to high school with Ryan and his friends and was a detective on the Largo Ridge PD.

  “She’s at the ER. She’s okay, just banged up. I need you to come down here.”

  His heart pounding, he searched for the shirt he’d removed earlier, then remembered he’d tossed it in the hamper in the bathroom. He yanked open the second drawer of his dresser and pulled out a clean T-shirt. “What did she mean Buck’s been arrested? What the hell happened?”

  A long sigh came over the line, as if the man hated what he was about to say. “He was arrested on a domestic violence charge. I’ll explain it all when you get here.”

  “Fuck! I’m on my way.”

  Twelve minutes later, Ryan whipped his truck into an empty parking space in the hospital’s ER lot. Leaping from the driver’s seat, he slammed the door shut and ran toward the building. Having been to the emergency room several times over the years, for himself or his friends and family members, he ignored the doors to the reception area and waiting room, heading to the ambulance entrance instead.

  The double doors automatically separated when he stepped on the rubber matting covering a sensor plate in front of them. A second set of double doors opened, but before he could walk through them, he was stopped by a tall, bald security guard, who stepped in his way. “Sorry, sir, you need to enter through the waiting room.”

  Ryan pointed beyond the guard’s shoulder. “My sister’s in there—”

  The man was about to argue with him when Josh Boyd
appeared behind him. “Craig, it’s okay. I called him. You can let him in.”

  Craig nodded and moved out of the way. “Sure thing, Detective.”

  Ryan shook the hand Josh had extended toward him. “Where is she?”

  “In the suture room, but I want to talk to you, first.” When an ambulance pulled up outside, Josh grasped Ryan’s upper arm and moved him into an unoccupied room near the entrance. It appeared to be where the police and EMTs wrote their reports.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Crossing his arms, Josh leaned against the wall. The man stood six four and was solid muscle. With a short, blond crewcut, he was dressed in a navy-blue polo shirt, with LARGO RIDGE PD and the department’s shield embroidered on the left side of his chest, tan cargo pants, and black, rubber-soled shoes. A holstered 9mm handgun was strapped to his belt over his right hip. His ice-blue eyes were sharp and assessing.

  “According to patrol, they found Regina on the floor. She’d fallen backward onto a glass coffee table, and it broke, slicing up her back.” When Ryan stiffened, frowned, and clenched his fist, the detective held up a hand. “Relax. They’re mostly superficial cuts, but there are about two or three that will need a few stitches. Nothing too deep. Anyway, Regina told the guys who responded that Buck was sleeping on the couch and was having a nightmare. She tried to wake him up, and he reacted by shoving her back. She lost her balance and fell. Apparently, the T-shirt she’d been wearing had helped protect her from the injuries being worse. Now, I haven’t interviewed her yet. I wanted to wait until you got here to get your opinion on whether she’s telling the truth or she’s trying to cover for him and this was something along the lines of a domestic violence thing.”