Page 45 of Unexpected Temptation

“It’s not me. It’s what my dad did. He ran out. He got a second family. He sends Christmas cards. It’s not the end of the world.”

“He doesn’t help …” Tristan gestures toward Mom’s room. He hasn’t asked me to remove my hand, but he hasn’t responded, either. “… with everything.”

“No,” I reply. “She’s his ex-wife. She’s sick. I’m not a minor anymore.”

“That’s a shitty thing to do.”

“Parents are shitty. It’s not a big deal.” A shiver runs through me when he finally shifts his arm, actually taking my small hand in his paw of a hand. We both look down at our clasped hands, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same mixture of excitement and something else.

Danger almost.

“Do you want something to eat?” I ask. “I’m not a chef or anything, but …”

“Anything’s good,” he says, his hand still on mine. “I’m not fussy. Not when it comes to my food.”

I feel my cheeks heating again, an innocent sign of his words’ effect on me. Still holding hands—and with me wondering how this can get my heart hammering so hard even after we’ve kissed—I lead him into the kitchen.

Finally, I let him go. He sits at the table with his fingers drumming on his knee. Loki jogs in, sitting at his feet. They make quite the pair. I can see their apparent connection.

After quickly making some sandwiches, we go out onto the back porch.

“I understand,” I say. “You have to do what you have to do sometimes.” He doesn’t have to ask what I’m talking about. The Mafia. The fight.

“I made a promise.”

He speaks quickly and softly, questioning whether I heard him right.

“I’m sorry?”

He looks at me with his eyes dark. “Nobody’ll understand, but the things I’ve done … I made a promise.”

“What promise?”

He shudders, fists clenching. Loki yawns and whines as he looks up at him.

“You can tell me,” I murmur, unsure why it feels so authentic. Maybe it was all that stuff with Mom, revealing what happened with Dad. I feel like I can trust him, and now I want him to trust me.

“I’m just another Marine with just another story,” he grunts, suddenly seeming angry.

Leaning over to him, I touch his hand again. “No, you’re not. Whatever happened, it happened toyou, andyouhave to live with it.”

“There are some things you don’t live with,” he laughs ruefully. I know it’s not my job to drag it out of him, but I can tell he wants to talk. He needs to get whatever is holding him back off his chest. Loki confirms it when he becomes puppy-like and starts whining at a higher pitch. He can sense Tristan’s mood. Animals always can.

“It’s just?—”

“It’s notjustanything,” I say, hearing a hint of the old Mom in my voice. That’s sad to think, but I’ll probably never hear that tone from her again, even with the new drugs.

He sighs, staring into space. “I can make a report, ma’am.”

I almost make a joke, but then I see he’s serious. It’s his way of dealing with it. Even so, he reaches down and starts absentmindedly stroking Loki under the chin. Loki grins, his body wagging, as the muscles in Tristan’s forearm twitch.

“We were in Afghanistan in 2020, somewhere in Helmand province. Routine patrol, they said. Routine doesn’t mean jackshit out there. The ambush came fast. We were in the ravine, and suddenly, we were caught in a kill zone. Bullets started flying, kicking up dirt and rock. It was so damn hot, I swear, you could smell the sweat, theirs and ours, and the gunpowder—.” He cuts off like he’s pissed at himself for giving so much detail, then his tone goes blunt.

“Wilson went first, a bullet right between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground. O’Connor tried to drag him back, but a burst of fire cut him down. The whole squad was dropping like flies, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. One minute, we were joking about O’Connor’s latest botched football wager.In the next minute, the squad was gone. Odin, my Belgian Malinois, I told you about him, remember?”

“I remember,” I whisper, transfixed, not wanting him to stop, not wanting the spell to break.

“He went straight into the fight. He was fearless, always had been. I saw him charging and heard his growl over the chaos. Then came the yelp, that god-awful yelp. I crawled over to him, bullets still flying, dirt in my mouth, and hands shaking. He was hit bad, blood pouring from his side.”

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