Hero by Night (9 page)

 

Chapter 10

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the computer screen, Lena picked up the envelope she'd carried over from the apartment this morning and promptly abandoned beside her lukewarm coffee. The Summers family had left her alone all day. Chad had poked his head in once to tell her that he needed to swing by the hospital, but otherwise, silence. She'd used the time, and the high-­speed connection, to send out a dozen résumés to prospective employers in the area, everything from night security to receptionist. But now she needed to read the packet of papers Malcolm had dropped off yesterday.

Sliding the cover letter out, she scanned the paragraphs. The words formed a tangled mess in her mind. A Silver Star. The vice president. Lena set the paper down and rested her forehead on it. Her constant companion—­who might or might not be invited to the ceremony—­moved at her feet, pressing close against her leg.

Would she be ready in one month to stand up in front of the vice president, her family, and the press? She'd come so far in the past few months, in large part due to Hero. But she hadn't pushed. She'd given herself the time and space to heal, removing the ­people in her life who demanded results. The ones who'd been there when she'd hit her lowest point, afraid to sleep due to nightmares, terrified to leave the house, or let even her husband close to her. She'd crawled her way back from that point, bit by bit, on her own. Still, the ceremony might be too much too soon.

“If you need a nap, there is a sofa.”

She lifted her head and spotted Chad standing in the doorway, holding a plate and a glass. “You're back. How did it go at the hospital?”

“All right.” His smile faltered and she wondered if there was more to it. “I can confirm that news of our relationship is spreading. Even Josh knows. And I don't think he's going to forget anytime soon. The nurses were gossiping like schoolgirls when I walked past. They'll make it part of their job to remind him.”

“That's good, right?”

Chad nodded, moving into the study. “Yeah, it's good. But I'm not sure Katie sees it that way.”

“I'll talk to her,” Lena said, though she had to admit that she liked having a friend who would stand up for her.

“I made you a late lunch.” Chad set a turkey sandwich on the desk, and the glass of water. “We were out of jelly, so no PB&J today. But that's the real thing. No soy.”

“Thanks, I've been sending out résumés and forgot to take a break.”

“Is that what you're working on now?” he asked.

“No.” She handed him the official letter. “I need to let them know if I'm going to the ceremony.”

He scanned the paper. “It's at the army base south of here? That's not far. Only a day's drive.”

“I know,” she said, turning back to the computer, checking her e-­mail more to keep her hands busy than because she expected a response on a Sunday afternoon. “I'm not worried about getting there. I don't mind traveling.”

Still holding the letter, he settled into a chair across from the desk. “What does bother you?”

Lena took a deep breath and turned the swivel chair to face him. “You mean aside from attractive men climbing in my bed? Or strangers getting too close when they think I'm a ninja?”

He nodded. “You can tell me to shut up if you want, but I'd like to know what happened over there. You said it was your dad's dream for you to go to West Point and join the army. But what happened when you got there?”

“Nothing.”

Chad raised an eyebrow. “They don't award Silver Stars for sitting on your hands in a war zone. I looked it up. It's the third highest honor. And nothing doesn't lead to . . .”

“Post-­traumatic stress disorder?”

“Yeah.”

“There wasn't a single event that I can point to and say that's the moment everything unraveled,” she said. “I was deployed twice, and both times I worked alongside my team. I did my job.”

“What did you do?”

“I was an intelligence officer. Surveillance, reconnaissance, advice, that sort of thing.”

Chad let out a low whistle. “That's pretty impressive.”

“There were a lot of impressive men and women over there,” she said. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time toward the end of my second tour. We came under attack from insurgents, and I ran back and forth from the TOC, that's the tactical operations center, while under fire, relaying the necessary information.”

“And what?” he prompted.

“I carried the injured out, using my body as a shield,” she said. “They all made it home alive. Every single one of them.”

“Wow.” Chad leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs.

“I know I did a great job out there,” she added. “And that's the reason I'm getting a medal. But—­”

“How many lives did you save?”

“That day? Seven.”

“And you didn't get hit?”

“You know how in the movies the good guy runs through a stream of bullets, never getting shot? It was like that. I had a team of guys covering me and I returned fire, but still, I felt invincible.”

Her smile faded, her gaze dropping to the untouched sandwich. “And then I served the remaining months of my tour, came home, and . . . and I fell apart. It started with nightmares. About that day. And others. I couldn't sleep. I felt like I always had to keep watch. And that hypervigilance infiltrated the rest of my life. It got worse, and I didn't want to leave the house.

“I know I'm one of the lucky ones,” she continued. “I'm learning to cope. It's just not going to happen overnight, or in the next few weeks. I keep pushing my limits. But sometimes they push back.”

“Take all the time you need, Lena.” He smiled, soft and gentle.

“Thank you.” She wondered if he understood how much those words meant to her. She'd spent months surrounded by friends and family who wanted to make it better, to find the cure-­all, whether it was a complicated drug cocktail or more time in therapy. They wanted to close the book on the terrors that followed her around.

“Can I take you out tonight?” he asked. “I was thinking Italian. Or maybe Mexican since we had pizza last night? If you want, we could grab take-­out and eat here.”

“I can't. I promised Georgia I'd stop by for dinner. Before we made our deal.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth, thinking about what she'd be missing before, or maybe after, their “date.” “I could cancel.”

“No, I'll buy you dinner tomorrow. And tonight, I'll be waiting when you get home,” he said, but this time he didn't offer his I'll-­charm-­your-­panties-­off smile. His intense brown eyes were hot and wanting. “If you want to challenge the boundaries, hell, I'm right there with you. I want you, Lena. But the rules stand.”

“No guns,” she said. “In bed.”

“And we stop whenever you want. Don't forget that.” Chad stood. “Will you do one thing for me?”

She nodded, expecting the next words out his mouth to be dirty and wild.
Have your pink toy ready. Take your panties off before you come upstairs tonight.

“Call whomever you need to call and tell you'd like to accept the medal,” he said. “You can always cancel. But you earned this honor. And I hate to see fear hold you back from accepting it.”

“I might run as soon as I reach the stage,” she said.

“I'll come with you, grab the medal, and follow you to the truck,” he said. “Look, I know you're searching for normal, to be who you were before. But Lena, I don't think there is anything wrong with who you are now.”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch as he turned and headed for the door. And this time it had nothing to do with panic. She'd wanted to hear those words ever since she'd returned home and realized she couldn't slip into civilian life like a pair of old shoes. But she hadn't expected them to come from him—­the man who occupied only a temporary place in her life.

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to Eric and Georgia's sprawling timber frame home opened a crack and the smell of melted chocolate drifted out. Cookies. Knowing Georgia, they were probably made from scratch, contained beet juice to make them “healthy,” and had enough chewy, high-­calorie goodness that Lena wouldn't care about the tablespoon of vegetables.

“You can come in, but Hero has to stay out there,” a small, commanding voice said. She glanced down and saw Nate, Eric's three-­soon-­to-­be-­four-­year-­old nephew holding the door, a stuffed green dinosaur with a big toothy smile tucked under his arm.

“I need my dog with me, Nate. He's my superhero, remember?” she said, borrowing the words Georgia had used to explain Hero's presence in their home when Lena first moved in to stay with them.

“He'll eat my T-­rex,” Nate said. “He chewed my big, big bridge the last time you were here.”

Hero glanced up at her, his lips forming a doggie smile around his chew toy. The expression on his canine face said,
I'm so guilty.

Turning away from Hero, she crouched down to the little boy's level, trying to think of a reason that would convince the child to let the guilty-­as-­charged Hero in the door.

“I'm sorry about the bridge. I promise to replace it.” It was on her list of things to buy as soon as she had a job, right below new cell phone. “If he promises to behave, can we come in?”

“No.”

“Nate?” Georgia's voice echoed in the great room just beyond the front door. “Nate, is Lena at the door?”

“Yes, but she can't come in with the dog.”

Georgia appeared, wearing an “I Heart Oregon” apron over her jeans and T-­shirt. “Kiddo, Lena needs Hero. He fights the bears for her.”

Nate studied the dog for a moment and then nodded, opening the door wide. “But he can't come near my toys.”

“Deal,” Lena said, wrapping her hand around Hero's collar as she led him into the house. Holding the stuffed duck between his teeth, Hero glanced longingly at the wooden train tracks. But she drew him away, following Georgia into the kitchen. Through the open doorway, they could see Nate playing with his toys.

“You know,” Lena said, releasing the dog, “I don't think Hero would win a battle with a bear.”

“Not a real bear.” Georgia opened the oven and withdrew a cookie sheet. The smell of fresh-­baked chocolate chips filled the room. “It's how he refers to his nightmares. And mine.”

“Oh.” The ever-­present image of battered, bloody bodies moved to the forefront of her mind. Panic followed close behind, running hand in hand with the feeling she would never be safe. In the other room, a crash echoed, and Lena jumped.

Hero abandoned his chew toy on the floor and nudged her thigh. She glanced down at the dog, his head cocked to one side, his friendly eyes studying her as if to say:
So we're doing this right now? Freaking out? Over a kid dropping his toy trains?

No. She focused on Hero. Mouth open, tongue hanging out, doggie smile in place—­watching him, she pushed the memories into hibernation. Spring could come at any moment waking her slumbering “bears,” but she could face them now.

“Maybe Hero would win,” Lena said.

“Of course he will.” Georgia smiled and nodded to the kitchen table. “I fed Nate earlier, and our dinner is on the stove. But we can sample the dessert first if you want.”

“I always want dessert first.”

“I figured you might, seeing as you lost your ice cream cone last night. I heard all about it.” Georgia piled cookies onto a plate and turned to the fridge. “Milk?”

“Actually, tonight I'd like a glass of wine.”

“And I was hoping you'd say that.” Georgia opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of white wine. “After a glass or two, maybe you'll spill the details of your date with Chad Summers.”

“You heard.” Lena accepted the drink, raising the glass to her lips.

“I ran into Ariel at the grocery store. She heard from Trish, who told everyone who would listen in church this morning.” Georgia piled a plate with cookies and sat down at the head of the table, her gaze darting to the child in the other room making dinosaur noises.

“On the trail yesterday you said he was the perfect gentleman when he found you in bed,” Georgia continued. “But you didn't mention a date.”

“He asked me yesterday afternoon. It was just pizza.”

“Hmm, I don't think it is ever ‘just pizza' with Chad.”

“I like him,” Lena said, knowing she couldn't tell her friend about their arrangement. If she told Georgia, Eric would find out and ruin their plan. “But while we were out, one of the guys, someone who works for Eric, got too close and I panicked.”

“I'm sorry,” Georgia murmured, her smile fading.

Lena shrugged. “It happens. But not once did Chad look at me like it was my fault, or suggest that I was being irrational. He didn't ask how do we fix this? How do we make sure this doesn't happen again?”

“I'd kick his ass if he did,” Georgia said. “So would Katie.”

“It's nice to be with someone who accepts my boundaries,” Lena said, borrowing Chad's word. “He's not trying to change me or fix me.”

Probably because we aren't really dating
, she thought.
He isn't looking at the long-­term picture.

Lena bit into a cookie. “These are good. Did you skip the beet juice?”