Page 60 of Damned
Kruze wrapped Bree up tight in his arms, hugging her, so damned remorseful at her generous,‘that little girl of ours.’ Yes, he was now a father, but that wouldn’t make him Bree’s husband. He couldn’t look at her, didn’t want her to see the devastation pulling him under. Didn’t want her to see the hurt. He was no prize, certainly no one to crush on. But with Bree and Robin in his life, he’d honestly thought they could weather any future storms together, like a family. If that wasn’t the best adventure of a lifetime, nothing was.
Except Bree was smart, and had already decided against marrying him. He’d heard her when she’d told her parents how high the divorce rate among married SEALs was. And that she wasn’t rushing into anythingjust becausehe’d gotten her pregnant.
“You’re tired, honey,” Bree told him sweetly, stroking a hand over his hard head, ruffling his hair, and kissing his scruffy cheek like he was a kid. “It’s been a really long day, and you’re injured. Let me check that bandage before we go to sleep.”
See? There she was, doing it again, as naked as a newborn babe, still taking care of him. How did good women do that? Sacrifice their needs for another’s? Even when they weren’t wearing a stitch? Even when they didn’t want to stay with the man they were helping?
‘Because theyaregood,’his mother’s wise voice whispered.
Now Kruze knew he was losing it, if Scarlett Sinclair had truly spoken to him. He let his hands drift down Bree’s bare back to her bare bottom. At least he still had that. “You’re right. It’s been a bad day.”
She acquiesced and slid off his hips. Quick as a wink, Bree pulled on a pair of red panties he hadn’t noticed until then, followed by her jeans and sweatshirt. She dressed quickly, helped him button his shirt and jeans, then rolled him to his right side to check that damned screwdriver wound. There was no sense arguing. He’d lost this round.
“Do you have a flashlight in that magic bag of yours?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Inside zippered pocket. There should be five of them.”
“Good Lord, you are a Boy Scout,” Bree said when she found what she was looking for. “My gosh, they look like five little soldiers standing in that pocket, and they each come with a brand-new pack of batteries.” Her voice sounded overly excited, and Kruze understood. She was still ignoring the elephant in the lean-to. Pretending he hadn’t asked, and that she hadn’t answered. That she wasn’t going to.
Her fingertips were icy-cold when she pressed his skin near the bandage. Kruze squeezed his eyes shut. They still had a couple days of hard walking ahead of them. He couldn’t let his being wounded slow them down. Married or not, he had a woman to protect and a little girl to think about. Robin expected her mother to come home safe and sound. Kruze meant to grant that wish, if it was the last thing he did.
“I don’t guess you have a thermometer,” Bree murmured.
“Sure don’t.” He kept his tone steady and calm, devoid of the ache in his heart. “I’ve been hurt worse before. This is nothing.”
She tugged the tape off and leaned over as she examined the wound closer. Her warm breath was chilly on his bare skin. “You’re definitely running a low-grade fever, and there’s a bright red ring around this hole. The good news is it’s still bleeding. It’s possible your body will cleanse the puncture wound enough to keep more infection at bay.”
Kruze grunted his agreement. “You done yet?”Because your touch hurts worse than what that screwdriver did.
“Not until I repack this wound and re-bandage it. Hang on. I’ll be quick, then I’ll warm up more of those tasty MREs. After we eat, we can keep each other warm the rest of the night.”
He meant to answer, to keep talking, to stay awake and alert. To stand guard while she slept. To keep pretending… But Kruze was more than just banged up tonight. He was alone again, and it was hard to pick up the shattered pieces of the foolish life he’d lived. What made him think he deserved a woman like Bree or a child as sweet as Robin? He didn’t. Apparently Karma didn’t think he did, either. And that was okay. A man couldn’t plant thistle seeds and expect roses to bloom. He’d reaped precisely what he’d sown.
Bree started humming some quiet lullaby while she worked.
Kruze closed his eyes and let the dark night take him.
