Page 54 of Only Her (K2 Team)
That he was about to have dinner with a sexy woman who he personally liked seemed something of a miracle, considering the last several months. Even more noteworthy, he’d only had two nightmares since bunking on her couch. Was that because she was near? He’d started thinking of her as his calm in the middle of an angry sea, and being with her soothed his soul. If he had to talk to anyone about his problems besides the head doc, he would choose her. What did that say about his feelings for her? Missing her even though she was only in the other room, he headed for the kitchen.
Dinner had been delicious, and now Cody sat on his porch with Riley, who was bundled up in a blanket, only her nose and eyes visible. She’d wanted him to play for her, and she’d wanted to sit on his porch while he did, even though the Florida weather had finally turned cold. She reminded him of a moth, snug in its little cocoon, and he swallowed a smile, thinking how he’d like to peel her out of all her coverings until the beautiful butterfly that was her was exposed.
He drank a few swallows of coffee, laced with Kahlúa—what he considered a girly drink. Wasn’t bad, though, and that was another thing. Since he’d been hanging with her, he hadn’t touched a drop of scotch, his only alcohol the one or two beers they’d drink in the evenings. He was learning to like the stuff, limes and all.
Dinner had been great, and they’d kept their conversation light. Now it was time to talk about important things. For the first time in days, he wished he had a scotch. He strummed a few chords, trying to think how to start. At the beginning. Wasn’t that the best place?
“I came home from my last deployment fairly unscathed, or so I thought.” He kept playing, the soft notes somehow keeping him grounded. “About a week later, I’d close my eyes to go to sleep, and things I’d done and seen started playing through my head like I was watching a movie. Every kill, every time I didn’t pull the trigger even though the man I’d sighted through the scope of my rifle was an insurgent...”
He glanced at her and shrugged. “Don’t even get me started about the Rules of Engagement.”
“I understand a little of that from watchingAmerican Sniper.” She slid her hand out of the blanket and picked up her coffee cup. “You knew he was a bad guy, but your hands were tied without irrefutable proof.”
“Yeah, that’s how it was, and how many of our guys were hurt or killed because of those rules? I leave him alive knowing what I know, and he comes back the next day and kills one of us. If anything, that’s what I thought would haunt me, and it does when I let myself think about it. But that’s not my nightmare.”
“I’m listening,” she said when he paused.
He smiled. “I know.” He drank the last of his coffee. “So there I was, the only one left from my SEAL team, the guys you met at K2 having opted out by then, and I get assigned to a marine platoon. I was six days from returning home when I went out on one last operation. I’d already scoped out where I’d position myself on a rooftop building. The last thing I remember was heading there with my spotter before waking up back at camp in a bed with a doctor peering down at me. Apparently, I’d been hit on the head, and my teammates found me out cold on the street.”
She set down her empty cup. “You don’t remember anything?”
“Not a thing. Not then or now. So there I am, back home, having trouble sleeping, but not sure why. Then I had the first nightmare. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it. Just leftover shit from a shit war. But it came again the next night and the next. Always the same, always waking up at the exact moment someone comes up behind me.” He stood the guitar next to the wall behind him.
“When you told us about the nightmare when we were at K2, I thought then that it was real, that it really happened.”
He’d fought against it being real for so long now, but he could no longer. “Yeah, I think it is. Tom, he’s my head doc, thinks that it isn’t just the concussion that keeps me from remembering, but that I saw something I don’t know how to deal with. Something bad.”
“Cody,” she whispered, getting up and crawling onto his lap, blanket and all. “You don’t even know what happened, but I’m guessing you think you’re somehow to blame.”
“That would be a good reason for not remembering, wouldn’t it?” Because deep in his bones, that was his greatest fear, that he’d done something to cause an innocent girl to be hurt or worse.
“Bad things happen to the best of us or to someone we care about, and sometimes we might unintentionally do something to bring that about. That doesn’t mean we’re bad people or don’t deserve happiness.”
He’d have to work on that one, but there was something in her voice that caught his attention. “What was your bad?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Surprised by Cody’s question, Riley shook her head. She never talked about that. Ever. “It’s getting late. We should go in.”
“So I bare my soul to you, but you don’t trust me with your secrets?”
When he picked her up and put her on her feet, she knew she’d hurt him. “It has nothing to do with trust.”
He stared at her, his eyes no longer holding warmth. “No? What then?”
Pulling the blanket tight around her, she walked to the railing. It was a clear, cold night, and billions of stars glittered against the black velvet of the sky. She and Reed had made wishes on those stars, had dreamed of making a life together. Their dreams had been made of dust, though.
Now a man she thought she could love—something she hadn’t been sure would happen again—wanted to know her secrets. She had tried to bury them somewhere deep enough that they couldn’t be found again, even with a bulldozer. To dredge up Reed and her role in his death would be like scraping a razorblade over her heart. It would be agonizing.
If she didn’t, though, Cody would be lost to her. That she knew for a fact. He was a man who had trusted her with his hurts, and one who, if he ever fell in love with her, would settle for nothing less than all of her. Since Reed was a part of her, that meant telling Cody about her shameful past. God, she didn’t want to.
A pair of strong arms circled her waist, and she leaned her head back on his muscle hard chest. “So, you want to know my secrets?”
He let out a long sigh, his breath ruffling her hair. “I want to know everything about you, Riley. Why is that, do you think?”
She turned, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. “Because you like me?”
His chuckle vibrated against her face. “Like is a mild word, darlin’, and not at all what I think I’m feeling for you.”
