Smith waited until Ashley reached her kitchen door. She stretched up on her toes and patted her hand along the top of the doorframe. Dammit, he’d forgotten to give her a key. This whole time, she’d been forced to break into her childhood home like a thief. His fault.

She slipped inside without looking back. That was his fault, too. If he lived a thousand years, he’d never forget her expression when he said she didn’t have a career. Her face had crumpled, and she’d sort of collapsed backward.

No wonder she didn’t want to be around him right now. Between his jackass comment about her lack of work and his confession about confronting Lacy, he’d shown himself to be a Grade A piece of shit tonight.

Not that he felt bad about introducing Lacy’s face to his desk. That asshole deserved every bit of hurt he’d received—and had yet to receive. Smith hadn’t told Ashley how close Deuce had come to dying. Sweat had poured off the vet’s face as he’d struggled to keep the dog’s heart rate steady. Until tonight, Smith had never seen a gastric lavage procedure. Having experienced one up close and personal, he never wanted to witness it again. He’d held bucket after bucket under Deuce’s mouth as partially digested chicken, drain cleaner, and stomach acid had pumped from his stomach.

Fresh rage pounded through his veins. Only a coward harmed women and animals. He turned on his heel and hurried to the house. The second he stepped inside the kitchen, it hit him how strange it was to walk up the steps without Deuce’s big body shoving him into the jamb. He clenched his jaw and went upstairs.

Clean laundry still littered the floor around his bed. Regret washed over him. He hadn’t even apologized to Ashley for flipping out about his stupid undershirt drawer. He opened it now and pulled a fresh shirt from the row she’d left untouched. A grin tugged at his mouth as he recalled her grabbing up shirts and tossing them on the floor. She’d been right to do it. Without realizing it, he still clung to the routines and habits he’d learned in the Army. In the years since he’d lost his friends, order and precision had kept him grounded even as he’d feared losing control.

Ashley had upended that—and in a lot more ways than just messing up his laundry.

His gaze landed on the duty belt he’d left on top of the dresser. Her soft cries as he’d spanked her echoed in his mind. Even after he’d berated her for being messy, she’d forgiven him in a heartbeat.

Another woman would have slapped his face and told him to go to hell.

Not Ashley. She’d welcomed him into her bed and her life. She’d seen his PTSD flare up more than once, and she accepted it. If anything, she seemed determined to wiggle her way inside the dark spots in his soul. He swallowed. Maybe that wasn’t a bunch of hippie crap, after all. Because no matter how much he tried to shut her out, she just kept hammering away at his walls.

And isn’t that what light did? It banished darkness. It got into all the cracks and blew them open.

He’d stood in darkness so long, the first glimpse of light had been painful, like stepping outside on a blazing hot day after hours inside a movie theater. Ashley was pure sunshine. Now that he’d felt her warmth, he couldn’t go back to the cold again.

Smith grabbed his phone from his back pocket and tapped Ashley’s number. His heart thumped against his chest as he waited for her to pick up.

A faint chime drifted from the hallway.

He frowned and followed the sound. Phone to his ear, he stopped in Ashley’s doorway. Her phone sat on the nightstand, the display lit up as his incoming call flashed over the screen.

She’d left it behind. His heart pounded harder. Even after he’d asked her about the phone, she’d left it.

He picked it up just as the call read missed. He stared at the screen. She’d set a photo of Deuce as her wallpaper. It didn’t mean anything that she’d left the phone at his place. She was tired. They were both exhausted.

Still, his heart continued to jump against his chest. As he gripped the phone, a text from Pia popped up. Ticket’s at counter. Flight leaves at 2 pm tmw. Pick u up when u get here. Luv u.

All the breath left his lungs. He would have dropped the phone if he hadn’t been holding it so tightly. She was going to leave. Ashley was going to leave without telling him. A dozen emotions flooded him at once. How dare she run away like this? Had the past week been an act? Jesus, had she just been using him? He shook his head. No way. There was no way she’d faked how she felt about him. About them. No actor was that good. So why leave now? Didn’t she know he loved her?

He froze. She didn’t know. Because he’d never told her.

He shoved both phones in his back pocket and headed for the stairs. Lacy could wait. Nothing was more important than marching next door and telling Ashley exactly how much he cared about her. She had to believe him.

As soon as the thought entered his head, he stopped, his hand on the stairway railing. He could tell her he loved her, but he couldn’t guarantee she’d believe it. And why would she? He certainly hadn’t done much to show it. He’d spent the first two weeks of her stay ignoring and avoiding her. Then he’d gone behind her back and confronted Lacy. He’d blown up at her over a basket of laundry. Tonight, he’d told her she didn’t have a career.

He squeezed the railing until his palm ached. God, could he have picked a better way to tear her down? Was that the kind of thing a man said to a woman he loved?

He could go pound on her door right now. He could stand under her window and declare his love to the whole neighborhood. He could tell her he loved her until he was blue in the face. But at the end of the day, all those things added up to nothing more than words. He’d be telling her.

What he needed was a way to show her.

He dug his phone from his pocket. It was nearly one in the morning. He took a deep breath and pulled up his brother’s cell. “Rise and shine, Juan,” he muttered. “I need you to help me save my ass.”