by Karen Ball
Oh yeah. “Definitely.”
“And she loves him?”
Annie slapped her hand to her forehead. “Duh! Did you see them out there? When was the last time you saw Kylie lose it like that?”
“Never.”
“Exactly my point.”
Dan’s confusion creased his forehead. “So if a woman screams at you, she’s in love?”
“No. But if Miss Iron Control screams at you?” Annie looped her arms around her legs. “Time to order china patterns.”
Dan shook his head. “I’ll never understand women.”
“Of course not.” Annie gave his arm a comforting pat. “You’re a man.”
He turned a corner, and Annie saw they were almost to Kyla’s house. “So you’ll leave things with Rafe alone? Let them work it out?”
Dan pulled his vehicle into the driveway of Kyla’s town home, put the gear into park, and turned off the ignition. He leaned against the door, studying Annie. Then he gave a slow nod. “But if Rafe Murphy hurts her like his brother did—”
“It won’t happen.” Annie didn’t back down from her brother’s hard glare. “Dan, you have to trust me on this. I know Rafe, and he’s nothing like his brother. He’d cut off his own arm before he’d hurt Kyla.”
They both jumped when they heard a car screech into the driveway. Kyla’s driver’s door flew open, she shoved out, then slammed the door and made her way to the town home. Dan arched a brow and his doubting gaze swung back to Annie. “Maybe you’d better tell her that.”
Annie grabbed the door handle. “I plan to tell her exactly that.”
And a good deal more.
Dan was so smart.
He’d dropped Annie off, saying he would just leave the women to talk. “Better not to have a guy underfoot while you two figure things out.” His brows waggled at her. “Besides, I spotted a new military surplus store on the drive here.”
“Oh goody!” Annie clapped her hands together, not even trying to hide her mockery. “New stuff to shoot with.”
“Brat.” Dan gunned the engine, then leaned out the window. “Go tend to your sister.”
Annie tried. Several times. But Kyla was having none of it. She just kept pulling food from the fridge to fix dinner, saying over and over that she was fine.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Really. Absolutely fine.”
Annie might have believed it if not for the fact that Kyla was moving like the Energizer Bunny on speed. If this woman wasn’t running, Annie’s name wasn’t … Well. Annie.
“You know, I’m glad you’re here.”
Annie perched on the stool, doing her best to stay out of her sister’s frenetic way. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Mason and I are doing so well together, I think it’s time we set a date.” She gave Annie a rapid look, then turned back to the eggs she was whisking. “Next month would work.” Whisk, whisk, whisk. “No, better yet, maybe next week.” Whiskwhiskwhiskwhiskwhisk! “I’m pretty sure Mason is free—”
“Kyla Marie Justice! Shut up!”
Her sister turned, mouth hanging open. That sight alone was worth listening to her sister’s craziness.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” Annie hopped off the stool and went to pluck the whisk and bowl of abused eggs from her sister’s hands. “I want to know—and you’re going to tell me, right now”—Annie cornered her sister with a look that let her know she was serious as an accountant on Tax Day—“what in heaven’s name is going on?”
Kyla stiffened, then sagged back against the kitchen counter. Her hands came up to cover her face. Annie set the bowl on the counter, then took her sister’s hand and led her to the living room couch. She settled the two of them on the cushions, side by side, holding Kyla’s hand in hers.
It took a few moments for Kyla to get herself under control—another first for Annie … usually she was the one crying all over the place.
She liked it better when that was the case.
Watching Kyla struggle was hard. She wanted to hug her, to tell her it would all be okay. But something told her that wouldn’t help. That what was needed here was some gut-honest talk. So Annie waited.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Okay. That was a start.
“I’ve been so restless lately. Feeling like nothing is right.” Kyla’s hazel eyes were troubled. Annie let her encouragement show with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
“Work hasn’t felt right. It’s been so empty. And Mason.” Kyla wiped a tear from her cheek. “He’s a good man, Annot. And he seems to love me.”
“Seems to?”
Kyla fell silent and looked down at their joined hands. Annie wanted to jump in, to prod. But something restrained her.
No … make that Someone.
“You’re so lucky.” Kyla lifted damp eyes to Annie’s. “You and Jed, you fit together so well. You complement each other, and you have so much fun together. I watch you two and”—her face crinkled up with such sadness that Annie could hardly stand it—“I want that, Annot. I want it so much!”
Tears threatened, but Annie held them at bay. “There’s no reason you can’t have it, Kylie.”
“You don’t understand.” She pulled her hands away, hugging herself as she had when talking with Jed. Annie reached out and pulled her sister’s arm away from her. “Don’t.”
Kyla tilted her head.
“Don’t put a barrier between us.”
Emotions flooded her sister’s features again, and Annie thought she would dissolve into weeping. But she drew a shaky breath and went on. “You deserve the happiness you have with Jed, Annot.”
“You deserve that kind of happiness too.”
Kyla shook her head. “No.” She met Annie’s gaze, and the hopelessness in her sister’s eyes left Annie stymied. “I don’t.”
“But why?”
“Because.” Kyla closed her eyes, and Annie had the most powerful sense that her sister was actually afraid. Lord, please. What could be so terrible that she’s afraid to tell me?
“You’ll hate me.”
Oh, this was too much. “Nothing could make me hate you. Kylie, you’re my sister. I love you.”
“How can you not hate me, Annot? When I hate myself so much?”
“Kylie, please, what are you talking about?”
Tears slipping down her pale cheeks, Kyla folded her hands together in her lap, staring down at them. “I did something. Something I never should have done. Annot, I—”
The doorbell rang, the sound so unexpected that they both almost leapt off the couch. Their nervous laughter brought them a modicum of relief from the intensity of the moment, and Annie patted her sister’s arm. “I’ll see who it is and send them away.”
Kyla nodded.
Annie jumped up, trotted to the front door, and peered out the peephole. Then stepped back, looking at her sister.
Kyla frowned. “Who is it?”
“Rafael.”
Kyla was off the couch like she’d sat on a bee. “No!”
Certainty filled Annie. A certainty so strong she knew it wasn’t from her. “Kyla, you need to talk to him.”
Her sister came to stand beside her. She looked through the peephole, then leaned her forehead against the door. “I don’t want to.”
Annie laid a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. Let the touch communicate her love and support. “Kyla.”
Her sister lifted one hand to rub the remnants of tears from her pale cheek, then put her hand over Annie’s. Her nod was barely perceptible, but it was there. Annie turned and walked toward the doors to the backyard. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”
As she stepped outside Kyla’s soft whisper followed her: “Oh … help.”
Annie sent up a prayer echoing the request, knowing the only One who could do so was not only listening, but already on the job.
FORTY-FIVE
“We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice
as much as we speak.”
EPICETETUS
“Let the wise listen and add to their learning,
and let the discerning get guidance.”
PROVERBS 1:5 (NIV)
It took more courage than she’d ever shown in her life for Kyla to open that door.
Rafael stood there, regret bright in his eyes. “Kyla, please. We need to talk.”
She drew a deep breath, then turned to call her sister. Annot was back inside in an instant.
“Everything okay?”
Kyla angled a look at her. “What could have happened in the two minutes you’ve been outside, Annot?”
Her sister’s shrug spoke volumes. “You can never tell.”
“Rafael and I are going to the church.” Had the situation not been so tense, the mischievous spark in her sister’s eyes would have been comical. Kyla let censure fill her gaze. “To talk. That’s all.”
“Take your time.”
Shaking her head, Kyla stepped through the door. She and Rafe walked in silence to the street. He held the passenger’s door of his car for her, and she slid inside. Oddly enough, the drive back to the church was almost peaceful.
Amazing. Even now, in the midst of such emotional turmoil, how this man affected her. Like peace flowed from within him to lift and calm her.
Yeah, you were calm when you were screaming at him.
She lowered her head. No, she hadn’t been calm then. But she was starting to suspect something. Something that troubled her deeply.
That anger, that heated emotion that surged through her so often when she was with this man …
It was camouflage. A powerful way to hide things she didn’t want to admit. No, more than that. Things she didn’t want to feel.
Because if she did that, let herself feel, she’d be vulnerable.
And that was utterly terrifying.
Okay, they were here. In the church. Together.
Rafe drew in a shaky breath. Now what, Lord?
“I remember you.”
Kyla’s admission caught him off guard. “You do?”
“Berto’s little brother. Annot’s shadow.” Her eyes softened. “You two were like peas in a pod. I even thought you might …”
“End up together?”
She nodded.
“No. We’re just friends.”
“I remember something else too.”
Rafe could tell from the tone of her voice this wasn’t something pleasant.
“You didn’t like me.”
“No.”
She took it wrong. He could see it on her face—the hurt that cut across her features. “Fine. Like I said.”
The ache underlying her defiance cut deep. He ground his teeth. “No, you don’t understand.”
“Look, it’s fine. You have a right to your—”
“Stop it.”
“What? All I’m saying is—”
He’d had enough. Enough meaningless words—words that said nothing and yet everything as they struggled to conceal her pain. So he did the only thing he could think of.
He grabbed her.
Circled her upper arms with his fingers, intending to give her one quick shake. Nothing hard. Just enough to stop the maddening flow of nonsense. But she fell silent, her mouth forming a mute O the moment he touched her. Which was understandable—especially if the contact gave her the same electrical jolt that nailed him.
Her wide and startled eyes locked with his. Rafe felt his grip ease, soften. His hands seemed to develop a mind of their own as they slid from her arms to her back. He didn’t take his eyes from hers as he drew her closer.
He wanted to kiss her. Wanted it so much that he ached. Wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in a very long time. And she would have let him. He was sure of it. And yet …
No.
That same still voice within him was firm.
Not like this. Not in anger.
As much as he wanted to argue, he knew it was right. And so, even as everything within him screamed for him to taste that taunting mouth, to show her just how wrong she was about his feelings for her, he drew her close, nestling her against his chest, resting his chin on the soft hair crowning her head. For a moment she stiffened, and then, like the winter welcoming spring, she melted against him. He closed his eyes, pressed his cheek to her hair, let himself breathe in the heady fragrance.
And held her. Just … held her.
Time lost all meaning. They could have stood there minutes or hours, he didn’t know. All he knew was that this was right. This was what she needed.
Almost as much as he.
Tell her.
He didn’t argue this time. He simply started talking.
“I always liked you, Kyla. Too much. From the first time I saw you, all I could think of was you. You filled my heart and mind, fired my imagination. I was just a kid to you, but in my heart, I knew we belonged together.”
“But”—her words slipped out, muffled against his chest—“you were so …”
“Mean?”
She nodded against him, and he smiled. “I didn’t mean to be. I was so confused. All I wanted to do was make you see that Berto was wrong for you.”
Her head lowered, as though a weight pressed down on her. “Because I wasn’t good enough for—”
This time he did shake her. “No!” He gripped her arms, holding her away from him, just enough to look deep into those eyes. Eyes that had haunted his dreams for so many years. Eyes that had reminded him, when he felt lost and alone in the Iraqi desert, that it was all for a reason.
To protect her. To protect all women like her.
He gentled his tone. “No, Kyla. Not because you weren’t good enough for Berto. But because he wasn’t good enough for you.” His jaw tensed. “Because I knew he’d hurt you. And I couldn’t let him do that. Not without trying to stop him.”
Tears glistened, and she blinked them back. “I thought … I thought you just wanted to get rid of me.”
How could such a smart woman be so dense? “Yeah, well. You were wrong.”
Something flickered in the depths of her gaze. Something troubled. She looked down. Picked at a button on his shirt.
“Kyla.” He covered her hand with his own, pressing her palm to his chest—and immediately regretted the action. The warmth of her hand over his heart was enough to make his knees weak. Buck up, soldier! He pulled in a deep breath, steadied his pulse rate. Focus on what she needs, not on your stupid feelings. “Kyla, what’s wrong?”
She pulled away from him, shaking her head. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to crowd her. “Tell me.”
At his low command, she spun back to him, fire returning to her eyes. “I’m not one of your soldiers.”
That all-too-obvious truth almost tugged a laugh out of him. She definitely wasn’t one of his soldiers. Good thing, too, considering the way one look or word from her could get to him. He’d never have been able to function. He inclined his head, conceding the point. “I’m sorry.” He held her gaze. “Kyla, you know you can trust me.”
The barest nod answered him.
“Then please, tell me.”
She struggled for another heartbeat, her arms coming up to hug herself. Rafe understood what she was doing, probably better than she. He took two steps forward and placed his hands on her arms. With gentle force, he removed the barrier she’d created. Keeping one of her trembling hands nestled in his, he led her to a chair. They sat, side by side, and the words came out in a tumble.
“I did something. Something I’m so ashamed of.”
Misery punctuated the words, but he didn’t try to soothe her. She needed to get this out. No more delays.
“When Berto and I were dating, I”—she closed her eyes and exhaled, then finished on a whisper—“I got pregnant.”
Her eyes came to his face then, seeking, probably for any sign of shock or condemnation. But she’d find none.
Because Rafe already knew.
FORTY-SIX
&
nbsp; “You might have loved me if you had known me. If you had only known my mind. If you had walked through my dreams and memories, who knows what treasures you might have found. Yes, you might have loved me if you had known me. If you had only taken the time, you might have loved me.”
GENEN GAINES
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.”
1 CORINTHIANS 2:9
She’d come.
Rafe knew fifteen was too young, in some people’s minds to have the feelings he did for Kyla Justice. But they were there. Had been since he was twelve. Little wonder, then, that he knew the moment Kyla walked into their house for his fifteenth birthday party.
And that something was wrong.
He read it in her every movement, heard it in her voice. Berto, of course, was clueless. All through his party, Rafe watched Kyla, anxiety growing ever stronger. What could make her look so miserable?
So frightened.
His hands fisted at his sides. Had Berto done something to hurt her? His fingers clenched so tight they ached. If so, he’d have Rafe to answer to.
Rafe had never understood what Kyla saw in his older brother. That they’d been together for a little over three years utterly stymied him. But it also worked in his favor at times, like tonight. With the connection through Kyla and Berto, both of their families had gathered at Rafe’s home to celebrate his fifteen birthday. And that meant he got the best present of all.
The chance to see Kyla.
At one point, Rafe spotted her sitting by herself. Screwing up his courage, he grabbed a cup, filled it with punch, and carried it to her. She started when he thrust it toward her, then offered him a wan smile and took the cup in both hands.
“Thank you.”
Her words were as troubled as her expression. Rafe wanted to soothe her, to take away whatever troubled her. But his tongue wouldn’t work, and so he ended up just standing there.
“Hey, little brother”—Berto’s too-loud voice grated on Rafe’s nerves—“just ’cause it’s your birthday, don’t think you can get away with mooning over my girl.”