Page 24 of Rusty's Command

She’d walked away from the gauntlet of stares, leaving him with judgmental whispers and knowing smirks that stripped away the reputation he’d worn like armor. The righteous man. The honorable one. The good guy. Each snicker and sidewaysglance had peeled back another layer of his carefully constructed facade until all that remained was the truth: he was just another asshole who’d let his dick do his thinking.

Hannah had become his penance, first his fiancée, then the match that lit his temper, then his guilt. Now she was his ghost, constantly lurking in his subconscious, rearing to strike when he wasn’t concentrating.

Meanwhile, Sienna had crystallized into something harder to bear: his what-if, his might-have-been, his road deliberately torched. The one that got away.

He’d thought that was the end of their story.

But now, here she was, no longer that bright-eyed teenager with dreams bigger than the horizon. Life had carved new lines around her eyes and weighted her shoulders with fresh torment. The woman in his arms wasn’t seeking a summer romance. She was seeking shelter from a storm he couldn’t protect her from.

As he tightened his arms around her, equal parts shield and shackle, questions burned in his throat like battery acid.

Would she forgive him for his stupid actions all those years ago?

Couldhe forgive himself?

CHAPTER 8

Sienna

Sienna snapped awake,a defense mechanism she’d perfected over the years. One moment, nothing, the next, full awareness.

A warm body was beside her, and an arm draped over her shoulder. Her muscles tensed as she shifted away and searched the blackness, trying to work out what the hell was going on.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

The words triggered a cascade of memory fragments that tried to thread into a sequence. She was eighteen again, with salt air in her lungs and sand between her toes, watching dawn break over the ocean. Rusty had called her that then, too, hadn’t he? No, wait, that was Russell. Russell, with his shocking red hair like copper wire against the sun, sharp jaw, and a prominent Adam’s apple that bobbed when he laughed.

“How’s your head?”

The voice was wrong though, too deep, too rich. The man beside her was built like a firewall, solid and impenetrable. Nothing like the lanky young man who’d once drawn a terrible love heart in the sand.

Her brain tried to process the impossible comparison: Could Rusty be Russell? The variables didn’t compute. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it, comparing that skinny redhead to this broad-shouldered man with his neatly trimmed beard and fierce gaze that could cut glass.

“Sienna, are you okay?”

The way her name fell from his lips had recognition pinging through her brain and demanding attention.

“Yes.” Her voice came out steady despite the jumbled memories swirling through her mind. “Um, question . . . have we met before?”

The silence that followed was heavy.

“It’s not a hard question, Rusty,” she said, her tone shifting to annoyance. “Have we met before?”

She jerked away from him, and her body hit the cold lava tube wall. The pieces clicked into place with brutal efficiency. “Oh my god. We have, haven’t we? You’re Russell Callahan.”

His deep groan was almost primal.

“You fucking lying bastard.” Her voice ricocheted off the volcanic walls and the acoustics amplified her rage into something nearly tangible.

“When did I lie to you?” His calm tone was infuriating.

“Calling yourself Rusty and not Russell.” She clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms.

“I’m not the man I used to be, Sienna.”

“The lying, cheating bastard, you mean?” The words tasted rotten on her tongue.

He released a breath, steady and controlled. “I didn’t lie to you, and I never cheated.”

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