by Terri Osburn
Heart aching, she said, “I’m sorry. Now I’m the nosy neighbor.”
“It’s all right. A lot of guys didn’t make it back.”
Carrie whispered the first thought that came to mind. “I’m glad you did.”
Noah relaxed, his solid thigh leaning against hers. “Sometimes I’m not so sure. I didn’t come back the same.”
“The scars can’t change us unless we let them,” she murmured. “You just need a little time to heal, Noah. Give yourself time.”
Noah didn’t respond, and they continued to enjoy the stars in silence. Carrie knew that he doubted her words, but she fought the urge to argue. To push him on a topic he clearly didn’t like to talk about. After nearly a minute of listening to his even breathing, she found herself leaning into his side, more comfortable with a man than she’d been in a very long time.
“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
Glancing up, she said, “For what?”
“For giving me peace.”
Carrie narrowed her eyes. “Peace?” she asked. She’d done nothing but sit beside him.
He placed a kiss on the end of her nose. “Yeah. Peace.”
Noah hadn’t felt this good in years.
His mind still raced, but explosions and carnage had been replaced by Carrie’s trusting blue eyes and her soft curves. Remembering them pressed against his side was enough to short-circuit his brain. He’d been tempted to cross the line. To push his luck and pull her onto his lap. If she’d been any other woman, Noah might have made the advance. But Carrie deserved a little wooing, as his mother called it. He could do that. Show her how a real man treated a woman.
As he replayed the evening in his mind, Noah remembered the run-in with Kyra. Part of him figured she’d been lying. Playing her typical brat games, stirring up trouble where none existed. Still, he’d intended to ask about Carrie’s relationship with her in-laws. But then Molly had yanked on his beard while Carrie flashed the easy smile that made him forget his name, and Patch’s sister had faded into a distant memory.
An arm propped behind his head and a Louis L’Amour forgotten beside the bed, Noah stared at the ceiling while crickets created a chorus outside his window. Carrie had given him a lot to think about. Besides the future prospect of taking her to bed, there had been her belief that all he needed was time. For months he’d considered himself a lost cause. But Carrie didn’t see him that way. She saw a man. A whole man with a few bumps and bruises, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
God, he hoped she was right.
The night sounds faded as Noah’s eyes grew heavy. For the first time in months, he drifted off to sleep without a struggle. As the hours passed, a pretty brunette with ice-blue eyes and delicate curves filled his dreams, but not for long. At dawn, he jerked awake, covered in sweat and huffing as if he’d run a four-minute mile. Shaken and naked, Noah stumbled to the bathroom to throw cold water on his face. Straightening, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Recognized the demons still dancing in his eyes. The ghosts lurking in the shadows behind him.
“More time,” he mumbled, his voice still groggy from sleep. “Time isn’t going to fix this.”
Sleep had been impossible, and not because of her usual insomnia. Every time Carrie closed her eyes, she saw Noah smiling down at her. And by the wee hours of the morning she’d been imagining much more than a smile.
Carrie had never been the type to indulge in fantasies or imagine erotic escapades of any kind. Which made her sudden wayward thoughts all the more disturbing. By the time the sun crested her windowsill, she’d conjured up scenarios that would make Lorelei blush. And nothing made Lorelei blush. Even thinking about them stirred heat in places Carrie hadn’t thought about in more than a year.
“I’m pretty sure you can go to hell for thinking that stuff inside a church,” Mya said, jolting Carrie back to reality.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carrie mumbled, returning her attention to the children’s books she was stacking on a shelf. Molly had been cranky before church, so when Carrie found her sound asleep after the service ended, she decided to help clean up while the baby finished her nap.
“From one single woman to another, I know that look. You either installed new batteries, or there’s been a development on the man front.”
During her five months attending the church, Carrie had gotten to know Mya Reynolds due to her role as the primary caretaker in the Grace Methodist childcare room. Though Carrie hadn’t been raised with any sort of religious affiliation, she wanted her daughter to have something akin to a normal upbringing. And in Ardent Springs, a normal upbringing included attending church regularly.
Open to the possibilities, Carrie had attended several different churches before settling on Grace Methodist. The congregation had been friendly and welcoming to the new little family, while the positive tone of the service always left her feeling a little lighter than when she’d walked in. This had not been her experience at some of the other options in town, which made her decision that much easier.
“I don’t own anything that needs batteries,” Carrie replied. Which was a lie, thanks to Lorelei, but she’d never taken it out of the box and therefore felt as if she were telling the truth, if only by a technicality. She silently pled the Fifth on the second suggestion.
During the week, Mya worked at the Ardent Springs Post Office, and as far as Carrie knew, she’d done so her entire adult life. A couple years older than Carrie, Mya had graduated high school with Cooper, Spencer, and Lorelei, but according to the latter she had been a bookworm who rarely spoke and almost never socialized. Carrie had never seen Mya not carrying a book around, and she suspected Mya’s devotion to the childcare room during services indicated a continued disinterest in being social.
Mya had also been best friends with Dale Lambdon since childhood, which made this conversation all the more awkward.
Emptying an armload of toys into a storage bin, Mya said, “So who’s the guy?”
The only person Carrie had spent any time with in the last four months had been Dale. Which meant Mya might know more than she let on.
“Why do you assume it isn’t Dale?” she asked.
Green eyes held Carrie’s gaze. “We both know that Dale has been barking up the wrong tree. Though I haven’t been able to figure out why you let him keep barking.”
Guilt twisted in her gut. “I thought if I gave it enough time that my feelings would change. He’s such a great guy, you know? Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
“I’ve been telling him that for years.” Mya gathered three teddy bears and a stuffed lamb off the floor. “And every woman he dates proves me wrong. The man gets friend-zoned quicker than gossip runs from one end of this town to another. He’s getting a complex.”
“He’ll find the right girl,” Carrie said, sliding the last three books into place. “Eventually.”
“At least warn me before you let him down so I can be ready. And whatever you do, don’t use that ‘it’s not you it’s me’ crap when you do it.” She snagged a fluffy lion out of a playpen. “He’s heard that one enough already.”
Carrie watched Mya thrust the stuffed animals on top of the other toys, recognizing a truth she’d overlooked until now. A truth that Mya quite possibly either didn’t recognize herself, or chose not to admit.
“I’ll be as kind as I can,” Carrie assured her.
“So what about the wedding?” Mya asked.
The wedding. Crap. Carrie had agreed to go with Dale while Mya watched Molly. She couldn’t back out on him now with less than two weeks to go. And though she loved her daughter, she also looked forward to an all-adult day free of diaper bags and teething rings.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“There you are,” said Dale as he stepped into the room at the exact wrong moment. “I didn’t see you in the fellowship hall, so I figured you’d be back here.” With a quick glance, he adde
d, “Hey, My.”
“Hey, Dale,” the other woman said, giving Carrie a don’t you dare hurt him look.
“Molly fell asleep during the service,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake her, so I opted to help Mya clean up the day care.”
“That was nice of you.” He smiled at Carrie as if she’d saved a gaggle of baby ducks.
“I just picked up a few books,” she clarified. “Mya did most of the work.”
Over Dale’s shoulder, Carrie saw Mya roll her eyes.
“What are you doing next weekend?” Dale asked.
“Who, me?” she asked.
“No, Mya,” he said with a laugh. “Yeah, you.”
The other woman flinched, and Carrie wanted to smack Dale upside the head.
“This weekend is Lorelei’s bachelorette party,” she answered, relieved to have a valid excuse to be busy.
“That’s Saturday, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then how about Friday night I take you to dinner? There’s a new place down in Goodlettsville that I hear is good.” Turning to Mya, he said, “You’ll watch Molly, right?”
“I have plans on Friday night,” she replied, crossing her arms.
“Oh.” Dale turned back to Carrie. “We can stay here in town, then. Molly can come with us.”
Hopeful that she’d have plans with Noah for Friday night, Carrie searched for an excuse. “I don’t think so, Dale. Saturday is going to be crazy, and Molly’s been really fussy from teething. I’ll have to pass this time.”
Dale slid his hands into his pockets, taking the rejection like the good guy he was. “No problem,” he said. “It was just an idea. We’re still on for the wedding, right?”
Mya shot Carrie a raised-brow look as if to say, Now’s your chance, woman.
“Yes. Of course. We’re still on for the wedding,” she said, ignoring the woman throwing her hands in the air on the other side of the room. “A week from Saturday. As planned.”
“Good,” Dale said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m looking forward to it. The doughnuts are getting low up in the hall. Do you want me to bring you one?”
The offer didn’t appear to extend to Mya. “None for me, thanks,” Carrie said. “But Mya might want one.”
Before the other woman could reply, Dale said, “Mya doesn’t eat doughnuts. She swore off junk food three years ago.”
“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Mya snapped.
Instead of apologizing, he said, “And that’s what swearing off doughnuts does to you. Makes you quick to anger.”
A stuffed giraffe flew by his head as Molly stirred in her playpen. Carrie moved to retrieve her daughter as the pair continued their discussion.
“You’re a jerk,” Mya said.
“You’re a health nut,” Dale replied.
“That isn’t an insult,” she informed him.
“Spoken like a true health nut,” he quipped.
These two needed to get a room and get on with it. Talk about clueless.
“I’m going back up front,” Dale said to Carrie. “Want me to save you a seat?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to head on home.” Home to see Noah, she admitted to herself. “But Mya can go with you now that the last baby is leaving.”
Dale moaned. “She’ll tell me all the horrible things the doughnut will do to my system.”
“Maybe she tells you stuff like that because she cares about you,” Carrie said as she slipped a pacifier into Molly’s mouth. “Did you ever think of that?”
The delusional friends exchanged a dubious look.
“Do you care about me, Mya?” he asked with a teasing smile.
Mya didn’t look like a woman who wanted to be teased. “You wish, goofball. Go get your doughnut. I’ll be up in a minute.”
With a gentle poke at Molly’s nose, he said, “I hope your teeth stop giving you trouble, pretty girl.” On his way out the door, Dale stuck his tongue out at Mya, who ignored him.
Carrie gathered Molly’s things together and draped a blanket over her daughter. Before leaving, she said, “Looks like I’m not the only person not being honest with Dale. You should tell him.”
Changing the subject, Mya said, “Do you know why I stopped eating junk food?”
Shaking her head, Carrie said, “I assume because you learned what it was doing to your system.”
“I weighed two hundred and sixty pounds. My nickname growing up was Wide Mya. But as far back as middle school, Dale was the only person who saw me and not the fat girl with her nose in a book. He’s my friend, and I plan to keep it that way.”
Understanding what Mya didn’t say, Carrie nodded. “Fair enough. But I hope he gets a clue someday.”
“Like you said. He’ll find the right girl. Eventually.”
“I’ll be honest with him after the wedding,” she assured her, sliding Molly’s diaper bag onto her shoulder.
Mya picked up the giraffe she’d thrown earlier. “Then I’ll be ready to help him move on to the next girl.”
Carrie’s heart went out to her. “Now go stop him from eating another doughnut.”
With a resigned smile, Mya left the baby room. On the way to the parking lot, Carrie sent up a little prayer for the stubborn couple.
Chapter 9
The letter stared back at Noah from where he’d thrown it on the table. He should have waited longer to open it.
The dream that had ripped him from sleep at dawn lingered long after he’d washed the sand from his eyes. Most of his nightmares came with a haze around them, as if he watched them through a dirty lens. The sounds were always the worst part. The explosions. The gunfire. The screams. But other than dust and blurry figures, Noah couldn’t make out what was going on. Which heightened the fear, because he also couldn’t see a way out.
But this morning’s dream had been different. Like fucking high-def, he’d seen everything down to the anguish on Deekins’s face when the bomb ripped his leg off at mid-thigh. A member of Noah’s platoon during his last deployment, the kid had been nineteen years old. He’d enlisted to get away from the gang violence that was pervasive in his neighborhood. Figured if he was going to die at the end of a bullet, he’d do it fighting for his country and not sitting on his porch having a smoke.
Noah had been there when Deekins took the hit. Had fought to slow the bleeding until the medics could reach them, but he hadn’t noticed the shrapnel in the boy’s neck. Had been too focused on the leg and failed to assess for other injuries. By the time help arrived, the kid was gone.
If only the dream had ended there.
With his hands still covered in blood, Noah found himself standing in the middle of his living room. The room started to spin. Slow, then picking up speed. As he climbed onto the couch, a scream slashed through the silence and the room stopped on a dime, hurling him backward. The scream came again, and Noah ran to the window, but instead of grass and trees he saw nothing but desert. His bloodstained hands created red smudges on the glass when he caught sight of a man dragging Carrie out of a rusted pickup by her hair. He had Molly tucked under his other arm, the child flailing in fear.
“Carrie!” Noah yelled, slamming his hands against the pane.
The frantic mother fought to reach her baby, but the asshole yanked her hair hard enough to send her to her knees.
Noah sprinted to the door, but it wouldn’t open. He pounded and kicked as the screams and cries grew louder and louder until his ears threatened to bleed. Shifting back to the window, he yanked with all his strength, but the damn thing wouldn’t open. He called her name again, but she couldn’t hear him. On her knees, she took a boot kick to the face, and Noah shot out of the dream.
Standing naked in his bathroom, he’d watched drops of water run down his face, feeling as helpless as he had in the dream. This was a new version of hell.
Now, hours later, the memory made him shake with rage. His left leg bounced a steady beat a
s Noah knocked back half of his soda, never taking his eyes off the letter. He supposed some might consider it good news. He’d been specially selected from an endless supply of defective vets for yet another study. He’d already played the role of guinea pig once, but thanks to the luck of the draw, he’d ended up on the losing team. Or so he assumed. No one shared the details, but he didn’t have to be a genius to see that six of the twelve participants had shown marked improvement.
He hadn’t been one of the six.
Volunteering to go through another study would be like joining a Russian roulette league. Even if he came through on the winning side, the process would likely leave him more twisted than before. Noah couldn’t get his hopes up again. He wouldn’t be a number on a page, a statistic in their findings. But what was the alternative? Go back on the meds? Hit the ground every time a car backfired? Flip out on a defenseless woman because she’d tapped him on the shoulder?
Live with nightmares that would drive him mad?
Slamming his elbows on the table, Noah shoved his hands through his hair. Carrie said all he needed was time. What if she was wrong? Patch had put her through enough. She didn’t deserve another round of will-he-or-won’t-he, and intentional or not, Noah couldn’t guarantee that he’d never hurt her.
There was only one option—leave her alone.
Noah wadded the letter into a ball and threw it on the counter. Time to accept that this was how his life would be. Stay busy with work and any project he could find, and steer clear of personal connections. The fewer people in his life the better.
After pulling on his boots, he stepped out the back door on his way to the barn, unable to resist a glance toward Carrie’s trailer. She’d pulled out just before nine that morning and had yet to return. Noah didn’t know where she’d gone, and he reminded himself that her whereabouts were none of his business.
She’d known by the sound of a roaring engine that Noah had been working in the barn when she and Molly returned from church. Having learned a lesson the hard way, Carrie resisted the urge to pay him a visit. He was working. Enjoyed his projects in the barn. There was no reason she needed to interrupt him.