His Only Weakness

by Felicia Breneé

  But here she was, standing in front of him. In the light of day, not in his dream world.

  How on earth could they wind up half-way across the United States from that hospital, in an obscure canyon called Phantom Canyon, of all things. Her niece lost, needing rescued. Why would Karma piss on him like this?

  All these years, and she still didn’t understand why he could never get married. Never have a mate. It was the only way to stop this curse. It had to die with him. It would die with him. If it would ever let him die.

  “Well.” Her voice penetrated his thickening thoughts. “I’m sorry to hear that. You deserve to be happy.”

  Happy? He was happy, when he was with her. She was the only thing in his life that made him happy. But the family fate made it impossible for him to stay with her. Especially after the reality of their being together drove home what he knew all along.

  A male heir would inherit his legacy. They had made love. Just once, he had lost control and went all the way. It was senior year of high school, just two months before graduation. She got pregnant.

  Reality shot him in the gut, like a machine gun! He went along with wedding plans, all the while praying it was a girl. Girls were not affected. Then something went wrong. She started bleeding and kept bleeding. She looked pale as a sheet when he carried her in his arms through the sliding doors of the Emergency Room Entrance. Blue scrubs rushed forward, took her from him, told him to wait… over there. A TV blared about nonsense overhead. He stared at the floor. It was the only time he ever let himself cry.

  Hours passed, or was it just a few minutes? Her parents ran in. Who had called them? Probably the nurses. Her mom was allowed to go in the back. Her dad stayed with him. It was no comfort. The man was pissed.

  How could her folks not know she was pregnant?

  Her mom came back, she trembled and sobbed against Heather’s dad’s chest. “They took her into surgery. They couldn’t stop the bleeding and she needs more blood.”

  Brady wanted to kill himself. Kill the monster. How could he do this to her?

  When the doctor came out, they all stood to their feet. His scrubs were swiped with blood, her blood. The monster awakened to her scent.

  Brady held his breath. Anticipating the doc would say she had died. The baby had killed her. Brady had killed her because he allowed himself to love her.

  But that wasn’t true. She was alive. Her parents let out a breath, they were afraid of the same thing, and hugged him. He stood stiff, not returning their hugs. That had been a close call to perpetuate the legacy. He pulled back and walked away. Never would the monster hurt the one he loved again.

  Yet, here she was, twenty years later. Asking him if he had ever married. He almost laughed in her face. If only she realized all that he had sacrificed. For her.

  No. He didn’t tell her back then.

  He wouldn’t tell her now. “Well, I’m glad your niece is alright.”

  She jerked her gaze toward them as if she had forgotten they were why she was here. “Uh, yeah. Thank you, again.”

  The man with Poppy hollered. “How could you let this happen?”

  Poppy backed away from him. “Hank. Please. It’s nobody’s fault. She was sleep-walking or something.”

  The medics continued to take the child’s vitals and hooked up fluids.

  “Were you even in the same tent, Poppy?”

  She gasped. “Of course I was!”

  Heather and Brady moved as one, closing the gap between them and the family.

  “Hank!” Heather spoke firmly. “Cut it out. This was terrifying enough without you accusing Poppy of doing something wrong.”

  The medics busied themselves with their patient but kept glancing over at the spectacle the father was causing.

  Brady planted his feet wide, his fists on his hips, assuming a threatening stance. Ready to hold the man back if he tried to throw a punch or lunge toward Poppy or Heather. The monster tingled under Brady’s skin. Brady breathed heavy, holding the creature at bay.

  Hank noticed Brady’s posture. His eyes flitted from Brady to Heather and back to Poppy. The other girl clung to their mother’s legs. Brady wanted to punch Hank in the face for scaring the already traumatized girls.

  John Brockman stepped in. “Mr. Fields, I assure you we see this sort of thing all the time. Children get disoriented so easily. They are so small and everything is so big to them. She could have tried to go pee in the night, and just a short distance toward the creek could have been enough to get her lost. She turned the wrong way and wondered away from the camp site, rather than toward it.”

  Hank’s eyes darted back and forth, from Brady to John. “I see. I guess I didn’t realize that.”

  Poppy stepped up to him again. “Let’s get in the car. The ambulance is nearly ready to leave.”

  Brady sensed her fear. He smelled the residual alcohol emanating from Hank’s pores from last night’s binge. He was right about one thing. Not everything was truly alright on the home front. She wasn’t the first wife who lied about that. Even Heather gave her sister a concerned look. Did she not know before now that Poppy and Hank had problems?

  Hank put his arm around his wife, her smile looked fake as a three-dollar bill, the girl still clung to Poppy’s legs.

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” Hank led them toward his car.

  “Wait.” Poppy pulled out of his grip. “We need to take everything down, clean up the camp site.”

  “We’ll take care of it, Poppy.” The single dad said, looking to the other moms for confirmation. They nodded.

  One of the moms touched Poppy’s shoulder. “Of course. You go with Mable to the hospital. I’m sure they’ll just confirm she’s alright, give her some fluids, and send her home. We’ll clear out and put your tent and things at the Rec Center. You can come get it anytime that’s convenient.”

  “Thank you.” Poppy didn’t look grateful. She looked… disappointed. But she turned and put her other daughter in the back seat and got in herself. Hank stood at the driver’s door, watching her and the others, then eased into the driver’s seat. The ambulance made a u-turn and pulled away. Hank did the same and followed.

  Brady turned to gather his horse. But Heather said the very words he never thought he’d hear from her lips.

  “You want to get a cup of coffee… and talk?”

  Chapter Five

  Brady drank in her warm-chocolate eyes. Coffee? After all these years? “Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital with your sister?”

  Heather’s eyes darted to the, empty road. Dust still floated in the wake of the two vehicles that had driven away. “Oh, yeah, I probably should. But—”

  But what? You want to have that talk we never had? You have questions that are still unanswered? What was she about to say? Brady dreaded anything she might say next.

  If only he could have died in Iraq. Instead of surviving the bank building’s IED. Had he not been cursed with the creature’s blood, like any normal human being, he would have died instantly when the building collapsed on top of him. But like so many other lethal situations he had faced, the monster awakened, giving him superhuman strength and a thick hide that bullets nor shrapnel couldn’t penetrate.

  However, the multi-story bank building proved to be more than even the monster could withstand. It crushed his hip, pelvis and several vertebrae. When the rescue team dug their way through the rubble and found Brady alive, it was thought to be a miracle. Only he knew it was quite the opposite. Several surgeries, modern technology, and time let him walk again and sent him packing from his commission with the Seals. If it hadn’t been for Brockman, who knows where Brady would have ended up.

  A shiver threatened his spine. The thought of living under a highway overpass as another faceless, homeless, wounded veteran filled his mind with real possibilities. But Brockman somehow learned Brady was taking the medical discharge and contacted him. The monster had saved a lot of men’s lives during the war. Just self-defense, but beneficial for
Brady’s troop. He had no choice but to accept the fact that he had lived through everything the Iraq War had thrown at him. At least settling in a little bitty community such as Penrose, Colorado, he could help some folks out with yard beautification, employment, and rescue a kid or two on the side. In a small way, it made up for the fatherless kids he orphaned, and the cold-dead eyes of those he couldn’t save.

  “Brady? Did you hear me?” Heather’s voice penetrated his flashback.

  “What?” He swallowed. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “I said, can I buy you a lousy cup of coffee at the hospital while we wait for Mable to get checked out?”

  “Oh. I-uh. I need to put my Dick up… I mean— my horse.”

  “Uh huh.” She tipped her head back. “Well, how kind of you.”

  Brady simply shrugged. “Any way, I need to take him back, and… feed my dog.” He gathered the reins, running them through his hand. “Then I could meet you.”

  What are you doing? Brady’s conscience screamed at him! He knew better than to open that flood gate! What was he thinking?

  “Great. Poppy texted me. They are going to Penrose St Francis Hospital in the Springs.” Her eyes dropped to his hands. “You got your cell?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled it out.

  Heather took the phone and pushed numbers. “There, that’s my number. Text we when you get to the hospital and I’ll come find you.”

  Say no! Make up an excuse! Don’t do this! “Okay, I’ll be thirty minutes or so, but I’ll be there.”

  “Great.” She hesitated. “Great.” She turned to walk away. “Stop looking at my ass.”

  He smiled. “You got eyes in the back of your head now?”

  “Maybe.” She chuckled and continued to her car.

  With each sway of her hips, Brady’s heart beat harder. The heat of lust coursed through his veins. He forced himself to stop watching and turned to his horse.

  “Shut up. What do you know?” He guided him to the trailer.

  Brockman broke into his brooding. “Hey man. Good job out there.” He looked Brady over. “You okay?”

  “Sure.” Brady lied. “Turns out I know them. Long story.”

  John nodded. “Looked to me like the sister had the hots for you, my friend.”

  Brady choked. “No. We just knew each other— back in California.”

  “Whatever you say buddy.” John slapped Brady’s shoulder. “I think I know burning lust when see it.”

  “Not possible. Trust me.”

  Brady loaded his horse, closed the tailgate, and climbed into the truck. Brockman waved as Brady made a u-turn and drove away. “This is a big mistake.”

  

  “Hudson!” Brady stepped out of his truck, muttering to himself. “There’s no way I’m going to that hospital.”

  The Great Dane lopped through the huge dog door that opened only because of the receiver on Hudson’s collar. He slammed to a halt at his master’s feet, and raised up on his hind legs, placing his front paws on Brady’s shoulders. His long tongue hung to one side of his gaping maw.

  “Good boy.” Brady rubbed his ears. “Come on, let’s brush Dick down and let him lose in the meadow.”

  Brady and Hudson walked the horse to the barn. “You won’t believe who I ran into today, Hudson.” Brady unfastened Dick’s saddle, put it on the pony wall. A laugh erupted from his throat. “She wants to have a lousy cup of coffee… at the hospital.”

  He lifted the horse blanket and hung it on the side of the stall to dry. “Her niece is probably just fine.” He brushed the horse’s sweaty coat. “I don’t got any business going there. It’s not like we’re going to start anything up again.” Brady brushed out the mane and tail.

  “She was just being polite. She’s a widow now.”

  He checked the horse’s feet and removed the bridle. “Okay boy. Go graze.” He slapped Dick on the rump and watched him canter out to the fenced field. “There’s no reason for me to catch up with them, like I got a vested interest in the girl’s well-being.”

  Brady hung the bridle on a large nail and walked out of the barn. Hudson bounced at his side. “I saved a kid. Like I do when I’m called. Thanks to the curse, she and I survived a rockslide. No telling what she’s gonna tell the docs about that.”

  Doggy save me. He remembered her sweet voice. Surely they’ll think she was delirious. Dehydrated. A four-year-old blabber. Her tender, sweet eyes floated into his mind. His heart twisted. What a chance in a thousand, Heather and her sister live around here, in the very area he had settled? Her niece would get lost in Phantom Canyon and Brockman would call him to go look for her. Not a single trooper could find her. Only Brady.

  Well, the monster and his hypersensitive senses tracked her down, and stood against the rocks falling over her. Brady shrugged. Suppose it was a good thing he had the beast to stand up against all those boulders. Just like in Iraq when the monster saved his regimen from bullet spray and shrapnel, and… he shook his head. Too bad the monster was no shield against the memory of the children’s dead faces. That was in the past.

  This child was saved. She’d have been crushed, possibly not found at all. No reason to clear out a land slide down in the canyon…unless they brought cadaver dogs down there, she’d have never been discovered.

  “I could just drop by to see that she’s alright.”

  He put his hand on Hudson’s head. The dog panted happily.

  “No. I don’t need to open nothing up that got shut down twenty years ago.”

  He walked to the meadow gate and closed it. Dick ran across the field, prancing and jumping, like a spring colt, then flopped down and rolled over three times. Brady laughed. “Yeah. You done good today, boy.”

  Hudson stood with his paws on the split rail, like a human. Brady patted his head and neck. They weren’t so different. The irony wasn’t lost on the human. “Come on. Let’s go make lunch.”

  Brady turned from the meadow and strode across the barnyard, entered his house, and opened the pantry door. He scooped dog food into Hudson’s bowl, filled the water trough, patted the giant dog’s head as he buried his face in the kibble. Brady walked back outside. “I got chores.”

  He crossed the grassy lawn. “Don’t need to start nothing I can’t finish.”

  He unhitched the horse trailer. Climbed inside the truck, started the motor. “Can’t kill a day sitting around a hospital.”

  He pulled the truck forward, away from the trailer, and then looked toward the driveway.

  “Oh, screw it.” He stomped on the gas and headed toward the hospital.

  

  “Stupid.” Brady chastised himself as he set the brake and climbed out of his truck. Lifting his phone, he thumbed the number Heather had put in his contacts. He chuckled when he saw what she had entered for her name. “L D” Little Dove. A half smile lifted on his mouth.

  “I’m here.” He texted.

  …

  Maybe they’ve all gone home already. Just like he ought to do now. He paused in his stride toward the emergency entrance.

  “I’m in ER lobby.” The reply came with a delicate chime.

  Brady squeezed his eyes closed. “This is a mistake!” The automatic doors swooshed open, he walked through.

  Heather approached him. His heart slammed into his chest, catching his breath. She smiled. “Come on. I saw a vending machine down this way.”

  “How’s the girl?” Brady let her lead him along a sterile but cluttered hallway. Gurneys, linen racks, computers on roller stands lined the corridor.

  “Mable.” Heather subtly corrected him. “She’s good. They cleaned the wound on her foot and are giving her fluids now. She’s been sleeping ever since she got here.” Heather stopped in front of a large vending machine with a picture of a funnel of coffee on the left and creamer spilling from the right into a paper cup. Such an enticing display for lousy coffee. “I have to say, I was stunned when you came riding into the camp with her in
front of your saddle.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “I was pretty shocked to see you too.”

  She slipped quarters in the slot and pushed coffee, sugar, and cream. A cup fell into the output and a whooshing sound indicated it was filling up. Heather took the cup and handed it to Brady. “Cream, one sugar. Right?”

  He looked at the tan fluid.

  “Right.” She didn’t need to know that over the last twenty years his particular tastes had lessened to simplicity. Black coffee was his brew of choice. But she had remembered how he wanted his morning caffeine back then, why tell her any different. It wasn’t as if she needed to know anything about his preferences now.

  “Thank you.” He waited as she put more coins in the machine and selected her coffee additions.

  “No. Brady. Thank you. You saved my niece’s life. I’m sure of it.” She laid her hand on his chest. Her eyes captured his.

  He swallowed. A burning ember flared in his shorts. Desire raised its narcissistic head. An uncomfortable tautness bulged against his tight jeans. He didn’t dare make any adjustments in front of her. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk. Maybe moving would settle things down.

  The truth ached in his gut. He knew none of the heroics that he got credit for was his doing. It was the family legacy, the monster. And yet, he couldn’t share any of the truth with anyone. Especially Heather.

  Nor the desire that yawned and stretched. Awakened by her touch. He had to remain in control of all the things awakening in his body.

  “Look, Li’l Dove, I only came here to be sure the kid was alright. I can’t stay.” The burning ember sparked brighter, hotter inside him. He needed to leave before it blazed into something he couldn’t control. “I’m glad she’s okay. But, really, I’ve got… work. I need to go.”

  “Her name is Mable.” She frowned. Her eyes beckoned him to stay. “Please. At lease let me buy you a descent cup of coffee. There’s a coffee shop just down the road.”