Page 20 of Sheltered By the Mountain Man

“Five armed men at a preschool, Mason. That could have gone wrong a thousand different ways. It's not your fault.”

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, needing space to think—to breathe. I tug yesterday's shirt on, covering the scar. “Yes, it is. I know because it wasn't the first time. And after… I swore I’d never be responsible for someone else again.” My thigh throbs as I stand, easing my weight onto my ankle. The swelling has reduced some, but it still hurts like a bitch to walk. I hobble into the kitchen, feeling worse than I have in a while, and start making coffee.

Bella trails after me. Her lush curves are once more hidden by my flannel shirt. She studies me a long moment, then wanders to my table of pictures. I should have put those away. I don't need the reminder of the past. Not when I came here to forget.

Of course, she hones in on the one picture I never wanted to talk about. She picks up the frame, tracing her finger over the picture of me in Kandahar with Mahir.

“Who was he?” she asks softly.

“A boy employed to aid my team. He was good at gathering intel because he was overlooked.” My gaze flickers to her and I see the pinch of sadness in her eyes. “He used it to his advantage. He loved soccer, and we would play in the streets during down time.” The memory is one of the few good ones from that time.

“You don't have to tell me anymore.”

Yeah, I do. I need her to understand why her trust is misplaced. I turn back to the coffee pot and pour us both a cup. The seconds it takes give me the opportunity to collect myself. I clear my throat. “A bomber struck close to our location. Moments later we were under fire. Mahir was at my side as we took cover, but one of my team was hit. I rushed to assist him, and in seconds, we were cut off from the spot I'd just been. I couldn't get back to him. We had to retreat.” My throat is so tight, I can barely push the words out. “A second bomber hit and Mahir was gone.”

She presses against my back and her arms wind around my waist. “You couldn't have changed that either.”

“I could have made him run. Or taken him with me.”

“And he still might have been hit if you were being shot at.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, my fists clenching against the memory.

“You went to help your teammate, Mason. He might have died if you hadn't. Circumstances forced you to choose, and you made the only choice you could at the time. The right choice.” She hugs me from behind, pressing her cheek to my back. “You're a hero, Mason. You saved your teammate, and when the girls were taken and you were shot, you pushed on and helped save them too.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. But the grip of shame loosens—just a little.

Is she right? Have I punished myself for things outside my control? I don't know. Her tender compassion made talking about it easier.

I turn and pull her against my chest, pressing a kiss to her head. I love Bella. The words don't come though. My heart has been scraped raw.

She shivers and I realize the fire has burned low overnight. The cabin is getting chilly.

I push a cup of hot coffee into Bella's hand. “This will warm you up. I'll get the fire going.”

Nitro raises his head as I stoke the log back to a small flame. We need more wood from outside. “Need to go out, buddy?” I ask as I stand and put my boots and coat on. It's a little easier getting my foot in the boot this morning and my coat has finally dried out.

He yawns at me and puts his head back down. “Suit yourself.”

Bella chuckles. “Aww, you can't blame the guy for not wanting to leave his cozy bed. I know I sure didn't.” She smiles at me, a light blush staining her cheeks.

I drop a kiss on her lips. She tastes good, so I make it two. Then three.

She laughs and gives me a playful shove. “Get the firewood so I can be warm.”

She's not looking at me like I'm a failure. Her eyes are bright and her hands are snagged in my jacket, as if she doesn't want me to leave even though she just told me to go.

I run the back of my fingers down her cheek, savoring the softness, then drag myself out for firewood. I keep a decent store on the back deck under cover. As I thought, there's a fresh layer of snow on the ground. Upwards of four inches. The sky is an ominous gray, and there's an iciness to the air that promises more to come.

I grab a couple pieces of firewood, then pause, my hand hovering over another. There was more here yesterday. I'm sure of it. I'd just chopped more three days ago, and it hasn't been that cold until yesterday. A tingle goes down my spine. I scan the ground, but there are no tracks in the snow. Nothing at all to indicate anyone had been here. Am I losing my mind? Did I use more wood than I thought?

I grab an armload and head back inside, locking the door behind me.

Bella smiles at me from the couch, where Nitro is sprawled out with his head in her lap. Lucky bastard. I drop the wood by the fire and put another piece in.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

No. But until I know more, I don't want to worry her. “I need to make a call.”

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