Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (20 page)

Allie
didn’t know if he’d actually woken up. She didn’t think he had. Eventually, his breathing calmed, grew deeper, as he cradled around Allie like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

She
dragged huge lungful’s of air down into her chest, coughing around her raw throat. Her heart thundered inside while the surge of adrenaline that flooded her system shook every inch of her being. She gulped down more air, trying to calm herself, fighting against the need to scream.  Instead, she brushed a lock of bronze hair away from Matthew’s forehead as she watched the outline of his nose, lips, and chin against her breast. As the pain in his face was washed away by dreaming, her cheeks warmed with the trickle of salty tears. Careful to keep from waking him, she tugged the blanket he’d most likely intended to use to sleep on the couch with up and over them both.

It was a very possible reality that she may have died beneath his hands just now.

But,
oh
. . . that look he’d given her right as he’d released her.

What kind of hell could he have possibly been through to have brought so much torment into that face? What demons swirled behind that gaze? In what ways were they tearing at his soul?

Matthew was so strong and powerful.

He was her hero for heaven’s sake.

How could he be so broken inside?

Allie
cradled his head into her, wrapped him in a protective cocoon against her heart. Her fingers softly combed through the bronze silk that was his hair, traced the shell of his ear, and felt the steady tick of his heartbeat below his jaw. Even in sleep he looked haunted; his brows refusing to release their hold on the pinch of skin between them.

A sane woman would leave.
Now
. Before she lost what was left of her heart. Heaven knew he’d probably not stop her when he realized what had happened tonight. He simply had too much honor.

She couldn’t do it, though.

She
couldn’t
turn and run.

Matthew
, so strong and battle-hardened, was broken and bleeding inside.

Her hand stopped at the curve of his cheek, sticky with the sweat his fear had leached from him—and she vowed to herself she’d set him free from the hellish hold of his past. Or die trying.

***

Allie
squinched her eyes closed against the assault of morning light on her face. Pulling back from sleep, she lay still as the events of the night rushed through her mind with terrifying clarity.

Oh . . . no.

Her hip and shoulder were stiff from sleeping on the floor. Her fingers traced where the carpet’s pattern had been mashed into her cheek. When she tried to roll over a whimper rushed between her lips. Her arm and the back of her head were especially tender.

She blinked her eyes while they tried to adjust to the light, until finally she could crack them all the way open.

Matthew was sitting only a few feet away on the one couch that hadn’t been tipped over.

Her heart sank instantly.

He looked so beaten. Spine curled over his knees, hands gripped his hair.

And the look on his face . . . pure hell.

His head swung toward her as she pulled herself up a little on her elbows and she winced at the dark, red-lined eyes that met hers. As that gaze locked with hers he tipped the long neck of a beer bottle against his lips and took a lengthy drag. Three more empty bottles lay at his feet.

“Getting an early start this morning, aren’t you?” Geeze, her words were raspy. Her throat felt sore and puffy as she tried to clear it.

Matthew carefully se
t the bottle down with a trembling hand before he stood up and walked into the kitchen. When he came back a few seconds later, he was holding some Ibuprofen and a glass of water.

“
Here. This’ll help.” He got under her arm and gently pulled her up into a sitting position while she tucked her feet beneath her and stretched his tee-shirt over her knees.

“Thanks,” she croaked as she took the pills and then chased them with the water.

The silence that passed between them was filled with all they had to say, but also everything that Allie feared hearing. She was petrified of what Matthew’s reaction would be.

It’s over.
She couldn’t stand to hear him say those words to her; and yet, she saw them on the tip of his tongue even now.

Eyes squeezing tight shut, she trie
d to will some kind of bravery. “Are you okay?”

Matthew
ignored her. Thumb and index finger took hold of her chin and turned it to the side so he could look down at the mess that was her throat. A curse slid off his lips as a hand plunged back into his hair.

Her
fingers quivered over his shoulder. “Matthew, it’s okay. I’m alright.
Please
. It was an accident.”

He pulled back like he’d been sucker
punched. “Don’t say that . . . Don’t.
Fucking.
Say that!” His voice cracked, barely able to get the words out. “Just don’t.”

Allie
sat up on her knees, desperate not to allow any distance between them right now. Afraid that if she did he’d keep pulling away until he was gone forever.

“Listen to me,
Matthew. It wasn’t you. I
know
that. Whatever happened, whoever Jay is—”

“
—Don’t. Say. That. Name,” he clipped, tightening up like a bowstring ready to snap.

“I just
—”

“
—Look.” He stood and turned away, like he couldn’t stand to look at her, the muscles in his back bunched up.“I think you should leave.”

Allie
felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. “Don’t do this, Matthew. Don’t shut me out. We can get through it. Make it work.”

Matthew
spun around, eyes wide. “Are you crazy, Allie? Look at yourself!”

She dropped her eyes to her lap, and tried to ignore the bruises covering her wrists and legs.

He started pacing, hands rubbing over his face. “I tried to make this work, okay. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted you . . . more than anything I’ve wanted in my life.” When he faced her again his expression begged her to understand. “My head is a complete mess. Shit, Allie, I can’t even stay in the same house, let alone the same room with you at night. I’m dangerous. How can you be happy in that kind of relationship?”

Her voice was weak, “Maybe we can get you some kind of help. Like a therapist or something.”

“Been down that road, and it didn’t work, okay. The shrink said I was too screwed up to help and decided to just dose it out of me.
Lexapro. Xanax. Trazodone.
I’m not going to go through life as a damned zombie.”

H
er heart was breaking while, as she looked up at him, her arguments got weaker and weaker. She had no idea what he was going through. How could she? “Well, maybe someone else—”

“
—Stop. Please.” His voice was softer now—barely a whisper. “Just go, baby. Go.”

Reconnaissance.

That was the name of the game here, and Allie had some serious work to do. Seeing the mess that Matthew had been when she’d woken up that morning nearly stripped her heart from her chest. He was so broken up. Killed her to see him like that. She’d never felt so strongly for another human being before, not even for her mom. Seeing him in so much pain had left her bleeding.

He was just so haunted.

The way he’d looked at her that morning, the self-hatred in his tortured face as he assessed her bruised, aching body . . .
.

His
mossy gaze never could meet hers.

So, yeah, she was sporting some bruises, and yeah, he’d scared the ever-loving hell out of her. But he was obviously
sick. And not as in a case of swine flu, either. Whatever was going on with him was psychological. Which could be so much worse. She had a feeling Matthew had never confronted whatever horrors he’d lived through—hard ass, super soldier that he was, he’d probably only taken care of all the physical scarring. No Big Deal, there. From the gruesome history map of scars he carried across his body, it was obvious he didn’t mind pain. But confronting a battle that waged inside your own head? Yeah, he’d work to keep himself in tip-top shape—but the emotional stuff? He’d just let that fester. The wound had simply become too much, so that it had started manifesting itself anyway it could. And when better than while he was sleeping? The only time he could let his guard down. How on earth did he ever relax knowing what awaited once REM hit? Talk about your own personal Freddy Krueger.

One thing was for sure. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere, no matter how stubborn an ass
Matthew wanted to be. She’d been down that road with him from the very beginning, had a feeling it was a self-preservation mechanism. A way to keep people at a distance; keep them safe, too. So, she’d figure out what she was up against, get some research under her belt, while giving Matthew some time to lick his wounds. The walk of shame out of his house had been more than a little demeaning, but she knew if she was going to see this thing through to its end she was going to have to pick her battles.

Mission Alpha would consist of getting a
good understanding of what Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was.

Up to this point her exposure to PTSD had come primarily through the TV. She’d seen shows where vets came home from the war, not really ever leaving the battlefield behind, and ended up shooting their town all to hell . . . but that was TV, where reality was often smothered beneath a health
y dose of entertainment bullcrap.

She drove
to her mom’s living facility, clicked her engine into silence and slumped into her seat, fingers rubbing her temples. She was seriously under qualified for this stuff. Only twenty-four, for heaven’s sakes. All she had going for her was persistence, and tenacity could shift to idiocy in the blink of an eye.

When had the
damn
sun gotten so
damn
bright?

Muttering a curse to herself, she flipped her visor down and snatched her shades off
its top. She was getting a
damn
headache.

Right over her one eye.

Popping the top of the bottle of Tylenol from inside her purse she tossed a few back, swallowed them dry. After a grimace and a full body shiver, she dropped the pills onto the passenger seat and crawled out of her car, choking as one powdery tablet stuck in the back of her throat when she slammed the door closed.

Allie
had given up any pretense that Matthew was just some kind of thrill ride to punch her “V” card on. Cupid had ambushed her way back at the UMMA and taken a two-by-four to her head, right between her eyes. And boy, had she fallen hard.

It was love, damn it.

And now, here she was, standing outside her mom’s home, ready to do whatever it took to help him.

She’d looked up PTSD on the internet
but didn’t find much. A lot of articles on how to help your vet. Ambiguous at best, and mostly intoned the need to
be there
for them.

Well,
being there
had about gotten her strangled.

So, first things first.
She’d decided this morning to get up, pull on her big girl pants, and go in search of help . . . from the last person she particularly cared to see at the moment.

***

Adam was just coming out of the lunch room when she locked eyes with him.

The big A-hole.

It was hard to mask her satisfaction at seeing the fading bruises beneath both eyes, as well as the swollen nose that was stuck on his face at a wrong angle.

I can’t believe the jerk kissed me!

Looking properly abashed, Adam trudged over to her, shoulders curled over his chest, hands fidgeting at his sides as if he were ready to get tagged by a Taser.

“Hey.”

He winced when Allie’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey, yourself.”
Her voice could have dropped the thermostat by twenty degrees. When she tipped her head up so she could look at him, his eyes tightened.

“You
wanna go somewhere we can talk?”

Since he was already looking a retched mess,
Allie decided to abstain from any smart-ass comments about being alone with him. Didn’t mean they weren’t floating around her head, though. “Sure.”

Adam
led her down the hall, past the security desk, and back to an
employee’s only
lounge.

When he shut the door both their voices rose at once.

“I’m sorry—”

“What the hell—”

The ghost of a smile curved his lips and his eyes warmed with a little of their normal, Adam glow. “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m a real shit-eater, okay!” His hands flew above his head, filled the confines of linoleum and plastic chairs. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I don’t know what you were thinking, either.” She narrowed her eyes at him, though honestly, she’d forgiven him the second she’d seen him.
The A-hole.

“I know,
Allie.” He started to walk toward her and then stopped, mouth clamping up like a trap.

“You know I don’t feel that way about you,
Adam.” She hated saying that to him. Sucked watching the way those words pierced through him every time.

“I know”— his face paled
—“I
know
.” He paused to chew his bottom lip. Allie watched the wheels turning while he buoyed himself up for something. “You know I’m in love with you, right? You’ve gotta know that. Have been for years.”

She dropped her eyes to her tangling fingers.

Shit.

“I know,” she managed to whisper.

“I know you don’t feel that way about me . . . but, I just had to tell you. Just once. This shit with dad has messed with my head. People don’t have forever.”

“Uh, huh.”
She shook her head, arms crossing. “So you thought you’d make your big reveal by attacking my face?”

Red flames licked up
Adams neck and face. “Guess I got a little overzealous.”

Raised eyebrows to that one.
Understatement of the year?
“Uhh, yeah. You did.”

“
Allie. I’m sorry.” A long, dark finger jabbed his chest. “Shit-eater for life, 'kay.”

Her
foot tapped over a peeling section of flooring as she let out a big sigh. “I didn’t come here to make you grovel, Adam. It’s over. But things are different now. Between us. It’s weird.”

At that
Adam dragged a hand over his face. “I know! I messed up. Bad.”

Adam
would always be her oldest friend. Feeling sympathy well up in her chest for him, she allowed a small smile to curve her lips. “S’okay. We just need to find someone for you. Maybe Lainie’s available again?”

At that
Adam’s nose curled halfway up his face. “Holy hell. That girl would eat my lunch!”

Allie
felt her laughter come natural. Things might be weird, but the boy would always have a permanent residence in her heart. With the crap from the other night out of the way, Allie decided to get on with her real purpose. “
Ah
, Adam. Got a question for you.”

A dark brow inched up his forehead. “Okay. Shoot.”

“What do you know about PTSD?”

“Um, a little.
Why? You having problems since those assholes attacked you?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! No! I’m fine . . . I’ve been fine. I just . . . well, what would you say a normal case is like?”

“I dunno”—his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face—“it varies person to person. You want to tell me what all this is about? Didn’t think
Jeopardy!
was your thing? Or are you gonna keep playing up the whole, random question angle?”

Allie
caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uhh.” She didn’t want Matthew brought into it if she could. Had a feeling he wouldn’t like his dirty laundry aired in front of the guy who he’d given a beat down to a few days ago. “I’m asking for a friend of mine who was in the military.”

Adam’
s face clouded with instant thunder. “Oh. You mean the new
BF
.”

Well, crap
. “Yeah. How can you tell he’s military?”

Adam
snorted, crossing his arms as he popped a hip against the small, laminate countertop that held a microwave. “Serious, Allie? That guy was rocking the whole Rambo vibe. Dude’s got a stick so far up his ass I could see it when he opened his mouth.”

“Be nice,” she glowered.

Adam’s mouth pursed and Allie heard his molars grind together. “Explains the two-second fuse,” he said slowly. He looked down into Allie’s face and she saw it wash with worry. “Dude. You want to be careful if it’s really PTSD. Especially military. He could get violent.”

“I’m trying to help him. But I feel way out of my league here. He’s tried to get help before, but said his doctor just doped him up.”

Adam nodded. “Meds are common, Allie. Nothin’ wrong with it.”

“He hated it,
Adam!” Allie felt her eyes prick with tears and she cleared her throat to get rid of the wobble in her voice. “I need to know if there’s any alternative.”

“D
on’t know how severe he is. Might be he’s gonna have to use some kind of drug. Vets with PTSD are under a lot of stress. Most can’t sleep, which only adds fuel to the fire. Sometimes drugs are the only way to go until you get the real problem fixed.” When Allie’s face crumpled, he added, “But look, when I did my residency at the hospital, I had some buddies who were on the VA wing. I knew a cool guy who could probably help. Young doc. He was more into therapy than meds. Lemme look up his number and I’ll text it to you, ‘kay?”

“Thanks,
Adam.”

His face darkened then and he stepped close enough that
Allie had to crank her head clear back to look up at him. “And, Allie?” his voice was whisper quiet. “Be careful. This guy of yours ain’t no stray puppy you can nurse back to health. If you feel like your safety is threatened: Get. Out.”

Allie
nodded and pulled the turtleneck she was using to camouflage her black and blue neck up to the bottom of her chin. “Sure, Adam. Of course.”

***

Okay. So the easy part was done. Now she just had to confront
the merc
with some kind of intervention thing.

Shit on a turtle.
This was going to suck.

Most likely
Matthew was going to be pissed at her for meddling. But, damn it, he needed help and she cared too much about him to do nothing. Sometimes the hardest part of recovery was asking for help. She just hoped he’d talk to her again after.

As she entered the PPMS building, walking on legs turned to water, her head was a continuous screaming loop of “
shit, shit, shit
.” Those big girl pants of hers were feeling a little threadbare at the moment.

One of the
stega-steroid guys looked up at her as she approached his desk. A pair of electric blue eyes narrowed at her, standing out like a couple of neon signs in his olive face and dark brown, short-cropped hair. He seemed to be one of the more frightening goons Matthew had employed. The faded pink scars running down the side of his jaw and neck didn’t help much either.

“
Somethin’ I can do fer y’all?” His rich, Tennessee twang somehow rolled the sentence into a threat.

She cleared her throat. “I’d like to see
Matthew Lynch, please?” Where had the Minnie Mouse voice come from?

“And you are?” He arched a brow.

“Allison Young.”

His eyes widened and raked her head to foot, looking for a third eye or a horn or something.
“Uh, huh.” The goon stood up and wrapped a set of bulging arms across his chest.
Holy cow, he dwarfed her!
“Well, Miss Young, seems like you’re not to be allowed on PPMS premises.”