Bastian showed up at Brie’s room midmorning the following day. He’d already had breakfast, met with the doctor for morning rounds, and had a lengthy phone conversation with Savvy. But all he’d wanted was to see Brie, knowing she’d be tense today.

He smiled, seeing her in a tight T-shirt and yoga pants that cupped her gorgeous ass as she bent forward, sorting through items in a shopping bag that rested on the guest chair. “Mornin’, beautiful,” he said.

She startled, bolting upright and turning. Then she smiled, a broad grin that showed some of yesterday’s tension had left her. She plucked the bag from the chair, clearing the seat for him, and said, “Morning.” Her gaze swept him from head to toe, then she added, “Handsome?”

He laughed. “We only get three minutes of shower water. I’m not going to clean up until before the stupid deck ceremony.” He dropped into the vacated visitor’s chair. “Until then, this is what you get.” Twenty-four-hour stubble and a sleepless night meant he looked like he had a hangover.

“Bad night?” she asked.

He gave a tight nod. His head hurt like a bitch. A reminder that he might be hanging out in the medical ward to seduce her, but the concussion was real. Guilt had contributed to his sleepless night. He didn’t want deception in their relationship, but Savvy had a point. Brie was holding back a painful event that could be relevant.

But then again, it might not be. It could just be ugly family dynamics.

She walked up to him and placed her fingers in his hair, and slowly, gently, began to massage, avoiding the cut above his ear.

He let out a soft groan. Her touch was just right, raking her nails sweetly across his scalp, massaging in small circles that released tension. He leaned forward, planting his forehead against her belly. “God, that feels good.”

She worked her way forward and back, giving his whole head the gentle treatment. “I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for rescuing me,” she murmured. Her lips brushed the bandage over the cut where he’d taken the concussive blow as her fingers moved lower on his neck and shoulders, where she dug in deeper, and he realized just how stiff his neck and shoulders were.

He groaned again.

She worked his shoulder muscles, and his tension melted in gradual degrees. He let out a slow breath and raised his head. Her breasts were level with his mouth, and all he wanted was to lick her and make her feel good too. No ulterior motive. Just healing touch. He cupped her hips and pulled her forward, being gentle with her wounded leg as he pulled her to straddle him on the chair.

She settled in place over his erection. She let out a soft “Oh,” and scooted forward, rocking against him as he placed a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his.

The kiss was hot and slow and deep, and he cursed himself for leaving the door wide open, limiting how far it could go. He released her mouth and said, “You’re welcome.”

Brie wanted this sweet, sexy moment to last forever…except her foot couldn’t touch the floor while she straddled him on the chair, putting stress on her thigh and causing it to ache. She pressed a kiss to his lips, then said, “Leg,” and scooted from his lap.

“Sorry,” he said. He stood and placed his hand at the small of her back for the two steps it took to get to her bed.

“It’s okay.” She settled on her bed and raised the back to a sitting position and propped a pillow beneath her right knee like the doctor had suggested. She leaned back and smiled at him, taking in the concern in his eyes. “It’s fine once pressure is off the wound.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Just keep me company. We’ve got an hour before I need to start getting ready.”

He scooted the visitor’s chair close to the side of her bed and took her hand in both of his. “You got it.” He kissed her knuckles.

She swept her hand to the shopping bag. “Savvy sent me makeup. And clothes.” She didn’t know how she felt about Bastian seeing her as Gabriella again. He didn’t like Gabriella, but he liked Brie. And she was Brie.

But there was a part of her that had loved Gabriella’s power. Gabriella was strong and smart and regal. If she could be Gabriella without chemical boosters, would she return to the role?

Now that Brie couldn’t be an aid worker, she might have to. Gabriella knew how to fund-raise and cut deals. Gabriella had all the money contacts who could make her project happen. Brie didn’t.

Whether she wanted Bastian to see her as Gabriella or not was moot. It would happen. In just a few hours. She bit her lip and cast about for something to talk about. “Have you told your parents you’re going to be on the news today?”

His mouth tightened, but he nodded. “Actually, yes. I wasn’t going to, but some of the guys on the rez will get a kick out of seeing me wearing my green beret, so I sent them an email.”

“Your parents should be proud.”

He shrugged. “Yes and no.”

Okay, he didn’t want to talk about his parents. She could respect that, but she still wanted to know more about him beyond that he was a badass, hot Green Beret. “Tell me about your hometown. Both Coho and the Kalahwamish Indian Reservation. I’ve heard a lot about Coho’s living history museum, but I’ve only driven past that stretch of Discovery Bay, never had time to visit it.”

“Discovery Bay, Coho, and the rez are beautiful, each in their own way.” He smiled, and his eyes took on a distant stare, telling her he was visiting his home in his mind. “Growing up on the rez, with all those acres of forest, living at the edge of the bay, was…special. I mean, there was poverty—it’s an Indian reservation, and Coho was a logging and sawmill town owned and ruled by a bigot for most of the twentieth century. As a tribe, we paid a huge price. But still, the rez was—is—ours. Our own nation. About fifteen years ago, we got the sawmill properties back, which changed our bottom line, but not our way of life. My mom is tribal chairwoman and has been since I was in my teens. So the Kalahwamish really felt like mine. My mom. My tribe. My whole world.

“It’s hard to describe, how personal the reservation feels to an Indian. It’s not like an old family farm for white people. We’re talking about land that has been ours for thousands of years. Since the beginning of time.”

He cocked his head. “I’m not the kind of Indian who doesn’t believe in evolution. I get it—we all came from somewhere else. In fact, we came from here.” He released her hand and spread his arms. “Or rather, Africa—fifty or so nautical miles to the west of us. Hell, I got to hold the Linus fossil in my hands last month—which was fucking mind-blowing—but still, I share my tribe’s core beliefs. We respect our elders and the land. Our connection to our ancestors is intertwined with sacred sites, on and off the rez. That connection goes deeper for us, especially because we’ve had to fight so hard to keep it—our reservation, our language, the potlatch ceremony, our treaty rights. We’ve had to fight to keep every aspect of our culture. And now we have to fight to keep white people from appropriating the very thing we had to fight so hard to maintain to begin with.”

She knew of all the atrocities tribes had faced: their language and the potlatch ceremony had been outlawed for many years. Children had been rounded up and sent to boarding schools to erase their connection to their native heritage. And this all came after the attempts at genocide that included smallpox blankets being given to natives by the British forces during the French and Indian War.

But knowledge wasn’t the same as understanding. She’d grown up white and wealthy and no amount of empathy could put her in his shoes.

All she could do was squeeze his hand. “You must miss it, being based out of Fort Campbell and then being sent for long deployments abroad.”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, yet he’d just made it clear it was a big deal. “Where did you grow up?” he asked. “You’ve mentioned Florida, but I thought your brothers live in New York?”

“We had half a dozen houses all over the world that we divided our time between, including New York and Florida. But none of them ever felt like a home.” Really, none of them had been safe. She frowned, realizing he’d turned the conversation to her, when she really wanted to know about him. “When was the last time you were home?”

He grimaced. “Four years ago.”

“Four years? Surely the Army gives you leave between deployments?” Given everything he said about how important his home was to him, that made no sense.

“They do. I haven’t wanted to visit.”

It occurred to Bastian when he asked about where she grew up that if he wanted her to talk about her family, he would need to open up about his. The more he shared, the more likely she was to do the same. But it had to be real, or she’d never open up.

This meant he’d have to talk about things he didn’t share with anyone. Not even Cal and Espi. His friends on the rez knew, but they’d never talked about it. They understood without words why he didn’t visit.

He held out hope that if she confided in him—without sex as part of the equation—she wouldn’t hate him when she learned the truth. He wouldn’t feel like such a bastard.

He wouldn’t be such a bastard.

“Why don’t you want to visit?” she asked, her tone tentative.

For once, he welcomed the question. It was his opening. “My college girlfriend, Cece, grew up in the Skagit Valley. Her dad is Upper Skagit, her mom Kalahwamish. Ten years ago, right after we graduated college, she moved to Coho. She had big plans for us, but I’d been trying to break up with her for months. Technically, we were broken up. I’d ended it. She lived in Coho. I lived on the rez. I told her she shouldn’t move to the peninsula for me. We were done.

“But my parents… They love Cece. My mom especially.” His sister had died in a car accident just the year before, making his mom’s attachment to Cece all the more intense. But he didn’t tell Brie that. Talking about Lily was a different kind of pain and one he couldn’t face in that moment.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Once Cece settled in Coho, my feelings were irrelevant. My mom told her I was going through a phase and would come around. When I found out she’d booked the Warren Cultural Center for our wedding, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Cece—again—we were never getting married, and I wanted her to leave Coho.” He shook his head, back in the moment when his mother pulled him aside and told him not to be rash. He could take a break from Cece if he needed to think, but his mom had made it clear she hoped he would get his head on straight and marry her. She also reminded him it was Cece’s tribe too, and she had as much right to live there as he did.

His mother was right about that, and he’d felt like a shit. Cece might not have grown up on Kalahwamish land, but she had the same deep connection to the place and people.

He told Brie this in halting words. He’d never verbalized it before. “But then, I found an escape. Cece wouldn’t leave the rez, but I could. I joined the Army.” He paced the small room. “My mom was devastated. She felt rejected. Like I was giving up the tribe. Betraying them. After all, I had a college degree—paid for with a tribal scholarship—and was supposed to use it for the good of my people.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, reminding himself that only raw honesty would get him where he wanted to go. “I was glad my mom hurt. I’d hoped it meant she’d finally understand, because I felt rejected and betrayed too. Meanwhile, my dad was proud, but I don’t think he really understood why I’d joined.”

He lifted his head and met Brie’s gaze. “And for my part…I loved the Army. It was a new family that kicked my ass on a daily basis. But they valued me. Honed me.” He spread his arms wide. “I get to see the world and make a difference. Just ten days ago, I rescued a woman from a slave market while my team freed dozens of kids who were about to be sold.”

He liked the way Brie smiled at that.

“I wasn’t ROTC in college and didn’t seek Officer Training School because I went the technical specialist route to become a warrant officer. My dad figured I’d get out as soon as I could, but once I made it through the Special Forces Qualification Course, I knew I was a lifer. This is the only job I want. It’s who I am. I’ve been thinking of applying to OTS so I can make captain and run the team.”

“You’d be great as captain.” She cocked her head. “So you don’t go home because your mom still resents you being in the Army instead of working for the tribe?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t go home because Cece is still there. Still at the heart of my family. She’s on the tribal council now, my mother’s protégé. She’s a good steward, and I’m sure the tribe has benefited from all the work she does. She’s not a bad person. But when I visit, I don’t want to spend every minute with my ex who usurped my role in my family.”

“And she doesn’t respect your need for time alone with your parents?”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure my mom tells her it’s okay. My mom is hoping I’ll take one look at Cece and fall in love again. But that won’t happen.”

He’d actually tried on his last visit. He’d spent time with Cece, to see if the intervening years had made a difference. It would have been so easy to give his mother what she wanted if it meant having his home back. But in the end, his emotions were dead where Cece was concerned. He didn’t love her. Didn’t hate her. He was indifferent. So he’d left and never gone back.

“I’m sorry, Bastian.”

“Cece is why I don’t get involved. Relationships aren’t worth it.”

“I get that,” she said, giving him an opening for probing questions of his own. But he missed his chance when she continued, “Have you ever tried bringing a woman home? To send the message loud and clear that you’ve moved on?”

“Are you volunteering?” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. My parents would hate you. They’d cling tighter to Cece.” He closed his eyes and imagined his mom’s shock and horror.

“Excuse me?” Brie’s voice was soft. “Am I that awful?”

He opened his eyes, catching her stricken look. Shit. She’d taken it wrong. “No. I mean—you’re Oil Company Barbie. And an anthropologist on top of that. They’d hate the idea of you. They’d never bother to get to know the real you.”

“Oil Company Barbie?” Her words held an edge. “That’s how you think of me?”

“Not anymore.”

“But you just called me that.”

Shit. He rubbed his hand across his face. “I’m fucking this up. I didn’t mean it that way.”

She rose from the bed and walked stiffly toward the door, opening it wide. “Even a pretty plastic toy has enough of a brain to discern your meaning. And this doll wants you to leave.”

“Brie—”

“Just go. I need to be alone.”

Bastian paused in the hall outside her closed door. A moment passed before he heard her sob.