****
While she waited for Hawk to return, Zoe spread a thin layer of compound along the seam where two boards of sheetrock met and applied the tape. Lord, don’t let me regret agreeing to get in the hot tub with him. Don’t let him regret it either. If he freaked out once he saw her leg, at least it wouldn’t be in a public place in front of a beach full of people.
But Hawk wouldn’t freak out. He had too much control for that. If he went all stiff with control, she’d just back away before they got any more involved. They shouldn’t anyway. She knew they shouldn’t. As soon as the doctors declared him fit he’d be shipping out again. She pressed a hand to her stomach where a hollow feeling settled.
“Strong Man and Marjorie have come by and brought Chinese,” Hawk said from the stairs. His expression appeared subdued. “He’s offered to help me hang the rest of the sheetrock as soon as we eat.”
She sighed. Just when she was building her nerve up and Derrick Armstrong shows up. Something about the man rubbed her the wrong way. “I’ll put the lid on the compound can.”
As she entered the kitchen, Zoe heard him ask Hawk, “So, are you guys still planning on the parasailing thing?” He spooned rice onto a plate.
“Yes, we are,” Hawk said.
“You’ll love it, Zoe,” Marjorie said as she offered her a container of Cashew Chicken.
“I think I will, too.”
Derrick took a bite from his plate. “I hope they don’t make some excuse that prevents you from going up because of your leg.”
Resentment flared through Zoe, and she took a deep breath before she spoke. “My leg shouldn’t be an issue. I won’t need it to fly. I’m more at ease in the water than I am on land, so if I hit the water, I’ll be just fine.”
“I already discussed things with the guy in charge,” Hawk said, his tone quiet and resolute. “There won’t be any problem.”
She glanced in his direction and caught his quick smile. If Hawk got any more thoughtful and understanding, she was lost. Her attention returned to Derrick. Was she more resentful of the comment because he had posed it? Or because she was suspicious of his involvement in Brett’s accident?
Derrick shrugged. “Sounds as though you have everything covered. I just thought it would be a really big disappointment if you got there, and they wouldn’t let you go up.”
She forced a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate your concern.”
The doorbell rang. Zoe motioned to Hawk to stay where he was. “I’ll get it this time.”
Zack O’Connor, Doc, stood on the porch. For a moment, she stared at him, feelings of suspicion and betrayal ricocheting through her. Had he been the one who had hurt Brett?
“Hey, I just thought I’d swing by a minute and see how you guys are doing.”
His slow smile seemed so open. “Come in, Doc. Derrick and Marjorie are here. Everyone’s in the kitchen.” She shut the door behind him and led him toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten? There’s Chinese takeout.”
“I’m good. I’ve already eaten. I wouldn’t mind a beer though.”
“I think Hawk has some in the fridge.”
“Hey, Doc,” Derrick greeted him, “You arrived just in time. As soon as we eat we’re going to help Hawk finish the walls in his rec room.”
“That’s cool. I haven’t done anything more strenuous than lift my toothbrush for days. Had a bug that laid me low.”
Zoe studied him as she handed him his beer. He did look a little pale and worn down. “We wondered where you were,” Zoe said, handing him a beer. “Maybe you should just supervise with the construction, since you’ve been sick.”
“Naw, I’m back in the game now.” He smiled at Zoe. “So you’ve been talking and wondering about me, huh.” He ran a brief caress down her back.
Zoe fought the urge to roll her eyes at his flirting. “You were missed by everyone at the Marks’ barbeque two nights ago.”
“Zoe’s being nice. I didn’t miss your sorry ass at all,” Derrick said with a grin.
Doc narrowed his eyes. “I’ll remember that the next time I treat your sorry ass for jungle rot, out in the field. That next penicillin shot might be water.”
Their good-natured banter continued throughout the meal. After cleaning up, the entire group moved downstairs. The three men merged into a team, as they started hanging the remaining pieces of sheetrock.
“They’re something, aren’t they?” Marjorie said from beside her as she held the paint tray for her. “All my girlfriends are crazy with envy that I’m dating Derrick, his being a SEAL and all. But they don’t know the half of it. They have these kinds of reckless, wild man images, but they like--pull together when they’re in a group, like family. Sometimes I’m even jealous of the time he spends with the guys because there’s times, when we’re together, I feel he’s closer to these guys than he is to me. I mean how close would you have to be to lay down your life for someone?”
“They have to go into battle with one another, Marjorie. Their survival depends on their being able to work together. I suppose they have to know one another so well, they can communicate without words.”
Marjorie shifted the tray full of sheet rock mud. “It really does something to them. Every time they ship out, Derrick comes back kind of aggressive and jumpy, like his skin doesn’t fit him anymore. It takes him about a month to get back to normal, and then I’m still walking around on egg shells with him for a while.”
She peeled her attention away from the men to look at Zoe, her expression serious. “He’s been totally freaked about Cutter. They’ve been buddies since BUDS, and he just can’t deal. That’s why he doesn’t come to the hospital. He’d like to call and ask you about him every once in awhile, but the whole scene that went down when he showed up at the hospital that first time has made him believe you wouldn’t welcome him calling.”
Strong Man hadn’t thus far struck her as the sensitive soul Marjorie painted him, but Zoe hadn’t been around him enough to judge. She’d welcome his calls if it guaranteed he wouldn’t show up at the hospital again. It might keep her brother safe. “He’s welcome to call me any time to check on Brett. I won’t mind.”
“I told him that, but he didn’t believe me. Maybe you could tell him before we leave.”
Zoe nodded. She scooped up more drywall mud with the trowel and spread it along a seam. “All right.”
Marjorie helped her position a ladder close to the wall and held it steady, while Zoe climbed it. Zoe hooked the paint pan onto the ladder and scooped more mud.
“Where did you learn to do this?” Marjorie asked.
“My brother taught me. When he’s home he likes to do things around the house, like Hawk. He says it helps him relax. My dad did, too.”
“Was he in the military, too?”
“Yes, a career Marine. He was killed in Desert Storm by friendly fire.”
“Jesus,” Marjorie breathed. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” She swallowed against the immediate thickness in her throat. Even after so long, it hurt.
“And now Cutter’s hurt, and you’re with Hawk. How do you deal with all that?”
She wasn’t exactly with Hawk, and she wasn’t certain she ever would be, but she wasn’t sharing that with a stranger. “You love them, despite their need to risk themselves. You don’t really have a choice. You can’t pick and choose who you love, can you?”
Her own words resonated. Did she love Hawk? She looked over to where he and the men worked. She studied him. His brows were drawn together in concentration, his pale gray eyes focused on the task at hand. With his lips pressed together in a thin line he looked intent and determined. Would he approach an emotional attachment with as much fervor? How would a woman go about inspiring that kind of response from him? She pressed her hand against the hollow sensation the thoughts triggered.
“No, you can’t.” Marjorie’s reply had her shifting her attention back to the woman in time to see an expression of sadness flicker across her face.
Finished with the strip from ceiling to mid-wall, Zoe climbed down the ladder. She stepped off the last rung and lost her balance. Grabbing at the ladder to stabilize herself, she caught Marjorie’s bell-shaped sleeve along with it. The other woman sucked in her breath and grimaced in pain.
“I’m sorry, Marjorie.” Releasing the fabric, Zoe caught her breath, a sickening, dropping sensation hitting her stomach. “Oh my God!”
Breaking Free Page 29