Page 32 of Beyond Rosy Irish Twilight

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.”

I wasn’t sure why I called her that, other than it was a term of endearment, and I assumed she needed something to make her feel safe. I held her tighter as she struggled to get away. It had worked last time, so I tried it again and prayed it worked. For a few moments, she struggled in my arms. Her fists did everything they could to pound at my chest, but they were trapped between our bodies.

She sucked in a large breath and then the damn burst. Though she was still tense, her head dropped to the crook of my neck and tears wet my skin. With her finally out of the dream, I started sliding my hand up and down her back, hoping to soothe her as much as possible.

“It’s okay, baby,” I murmured.

She shook her head like it would never be okay, but didn’t say a thing. If she wouldn’t talk to me, I couldn’t help her. Whatever was going on in her head, it was locked there. I’d have to see if any of the guys could find out information on her past, but it was highly unlikely that a man like Ambrose had information like that floating around.

After minutes, she pulled away from me and swiped at her face. She refused to look me in the eyes, which didn’t surprise me. A buddy of mine came home from war with severe PTSD. Whenever his mind took him back to that time, he was embarrassed, refusing to talk about it. That was something I was going to have to work on with Jade. I couldn’t have her ending up like he did—with a bullet hole in his head.

The day I buried him was the hardest day of my life, more challenging than any mission I’d ever been on. Out there, we had each other. But when we came home, the sand, the enemies, the need to fight for something, were all gone. All we were left with were the haunting memories that would never leave us. And for him, it was too much.

“Chase said he saw you by the water. Do you want to go for a swim?”

She shook her head, refusing to say more.

“What about going to the restaurant? Are you hungry?”

Again, she shook her head. She was still stuck in that dream, and until I found a way to pull her out of it, those memories would linger.

“We should go for a walk. The breeze will help.”

I fucking hated sand, but I would do it for her. Whether we were fake married or not, I left no man or woman behind. And right now, she was fighting for a way out—a way to leave this earth behind.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she had the chance, I got up and walked over to her dresser, taking out a bikini. “How about this?”

She paled when she saw it, which was weird enough. Maybe she was shy about showing off that much skin in public. I tossed it back in the drawer and grabbed a tank and shorts. Holding it up, she nodded, but again, refused to speak.

“I’m going to use the bathroom. We’ll head out afterward.”

I shut the door behind me and leaned against the sink, taking in what I was facing. I hadn’t prepared myself to marry a woman so damaged. She was clearly hurting, and with my own war going on, how the fuck was I supposed to help her? Yet, not helping her wasn’t an option either. Disregarding the promise I made to Ambrose, she was my wife. Whether in name or true love, I had an obligation to help her through this. It wasn’t something I could push off on Patrick.

I flushed the toilet and washed my hands, then opened the door and walked out with a smile. She still wouldn’t look at me, but at least she was dressed and ready to go. I hesitated for a moment, then took her hand in mine and led her to the door. I grimaced as I stared at the sand. God, I really fucking hated sand. I sighed and took my first steps onto it. The gritty feel of it between my toes bugged the fuck out of me. Instead of it being calming, it only reminded me of sand whipping me in the face in the middle of the desert. If we got down by the water, maybe it would be better.

She walked lazily next to me, shuffling her feet in the sand like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She would stop and wiggle her toes every once in a while, even crack a smile from time to time. I found myself paying more attention to her than I did to the fact that I hated the sand. By the time we were by the water, she had a huge smile on her face as the waves lapped at her feet. The tide was going out, and starfish were stuck on the beach. She gasped and ran over, picking it up, then carrying it to the water to toss it back in.

“Is this your first time by the water?”

She didn’t bother to look at me as she answered. “Yes.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been to lakes before, right?”

She just shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the ocean. I walked closer and saw her eyes were closed and a serene smile was on her face. She hadn’t bothered to put her usual bangles on her wrists, and the raised scars caught my attention again. Without thinking, I grabbed her hand and ran my thumb over the scar.

“What happened?”

She jerked her hand from mine and turned away from me. I wasn’t thinking and had spoiled it. The happiness on her face was gone, and in its place, a scared woman remained. Without a word, she turned from me and stalked back toward the bungalow.

I sighed when I saw Patrick walk up the beach toward me. No doubt, he had some sarcastic words of wisdom for me. “Save it,” I bit out.

“I already looked into it. Whatever happened, there’s no word on it. Not even a peep about how she got those scars. If you want answers, you’re going to have to figure out a way to talk to her without being a douchebag.”

I turned to him with a glare. “I wasn’t being a douchebag. We were standing here and I saw that she didn’t have bangles on.”

He nodded. “Yep, if it makes you feel better, I would have done the same thing.”

“Really?”

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