Page 48 of Homecoming

A gentle hand settled on her shoulder, and Grace jerked her head up. Grunt stood beside her, frowning heavily. “Let’s get you a drink of water or something,” he said, and guided her down the hallway. They bypassed the people-filled living room and went into the warm kitchen. A couple of guys were doing dishes and laughing, but with a look, they cleared out. Grunt settled her onto a stool at the island, then crossed to run her a glass of water. When he handed it to her, she took several big swallows.

“Is it true,” she asked, not liking that her voice quivered a tiny bit.

“I don’t know what exactly he told you, but probably. Our stories are not pretty.”

Grace wasn’t sure what she was feeling. There were equal parts disbelief and anger, as well as a healthy dose of fear.If what he told her was true, there could be commandos or mercenaries coming after them at any minute. Now, all the crazy security measures made sense. Holy crap! And the guns on the security guards…

Grunt leaned down to catch her gaze. “Hey, do you think I can have the recipe for that bread pudding?”

Grace blinked, thrown off by the question. Then a little aggravated. There were bigger things going on than that bread pudding. “Um, sure.”

“Do you think you can write it down if I give you paper?”

Grunt turned and rummaged in a drawer for a pen and a pad of paper. He set them in front of her and gave her a slight smile. “I loved the crust on the bottom. Was that brown sugar?”

Grace realized what he was doing, and that it had worked. “Yes, brown sugar. Am I crazy to think this situation is crazy?”

Grunt laughed a little and pulled another stool out, propping one foot on the rung as he sat. “No. You’re not crazy. None of us are. Well, I say that, but I wonder about a few of those chuckleheads,” he nodded his head toward the living room, and it made her smile slightly.

Grace looked down at the blue Bic pen and college lined paper. It was so mundane and ordinary. She started listing the ingredients and the measurements, and it gave her something to concentrate on other than the wild thoughts in her head.

Grunt moved off the stool and crossed to the far counter, where the guys had been washing dishes. He dried off her 9x13 and set it back into the insulated carrying case, then in front of her.

Grace finished up the recipe and set the pen down. Then she looked at Grunt. “Thank you for distracting me. I’m usually more steady than that.”

He shrugged lightly, settling on the stool again. “Sometimes we get stuck in a loop, and it just needs interrupted.”

She glanced around. “Owen is probably wondering what I’m doing.”

Grunt shook his head. “He stuck his head in the door. He knows where you are.”

“Do you have some kind of calming power or something? Is that why he left me here?”

Grunt snorted. “Or something. Even before the Marines, most people found me comforting to be around. The drug somehow enhanced that. It’s fun going to town,” he said sarcastically, wiggling his dark brows. “Random people come up to me to tell me their life stories. It takes hours to do the most minor things.”

Grace reached for her container. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your way.”

He rested a hand on her arm. “No, I didn’t mean you. I want to talk to you. It’s important I talk to you.”

“Why?” she asked, sinking back into the chair.

“Because you’re important to Owen. And he’s the captain of our ship.” Grunt made a motion to the surrounding room. “All of this is because of him and his amazing brain. He probably told you all the scary stuff, but there is good in what we’ve become, too. It’s not just gloom and doom, people are after us. You need to look at the community we’ve built after recovering from something so traumatic.”

She nodded, thinking about the way the men interacted with each other. There was an easiness to them that was very much like a family. More than a community. It was actually pretty amazing. But he hadn’t told her all the details, like what they’d done to him to make him scream his voice permanently hoarse.

“I’m so sorry you were a part of that,” she said softly.

For a moment, his expression sagged with remembered pain. She could see it in every line of his young face. “I can feel that,Grace, and I appreciate your empathy, but you don’t have to tell us you’re sorry. You had nothing to do with it.”

“I really like Owen,” she said, voice whisper soft.

Grunt gave her a lop-sided smile. “I know you do. I could feel it from across the room when you looked at him. The man hasn’t changed. Just his history. And he’s a little more special than you first thought,” he said, winking.

Grace laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose he is. You all are.”

He shrugged again, but didn’t say anything. Grace thought about what Angela had told her.Remember, they’re just men.

Yes, they were. And there was one waiting for her right outside.

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