Seeing the space beside Lulah, the empty area she patted with her small hands, stilled him. He couldn’t go to her, though. Not when the worst part of the story had yet to be revealed. He wasn’t rejecting her offer of comfort, because, hell, to lie alongside her now and soak up some of her warmth, his appetite for that was voracious. “I’ll stay here for the moment.” He shifted his focus from her hand to her face. She amazed him.

“Tell me. I don’t care what it is, but if you tell me, I think that pain in your head will ease.”

“Once you all left the bar, I cut loose.” He took his hand from his temple now, as if he didn’t deserve the comfort. “We moved onto that other bar, and those girls sitting alongside us came, too. Over the next hour, we moved on to whiskey and bullshit. I wanted to leave, but part of me enjoyed the company of these rowdy uncomplicated people, so I stayed with it. After some discussion, they decided to head down to the harbor where somebody had a key to a boat. When we made our way to the street, I suddenly needed to be home. They were all giving me a hard time and foolishly—I mean, really freakin’ stupid—I climbed into the car with a bunch of them. There were two carloads, one car following us. My friend Zac drove. Hell, not like we hadn’t been drinking or anything! I’ll never know how we weren’t stopped. I begged Zac to take me home, and finally he could see I was serious, because I tried to get out of the car when we stopped at some traffic lights.”

Lulah was right. The pain in his head eased. He tried to give her a smile, but when he saw her face, he knew the best way to show his gratitude would be through the honesty of his story.

“A couple of the girls piled into the car with us, and the others were in the car behind. One of them had the most grating laugh, really high-pitched, and she kept calling me soldier-boy. Everything amped up, and I tried to make Zac stop the car so I could get out and walk, and that woman in the back kept asking, ‘What’s wrong, soldier-boy’ in this stupid voice. I told her to shut up, and that made her worse.

“Finally, we arrived at my house and, hell, the control it took not to run inside. Once I reached the door, I stood, searching for the key, sucking in big gulps of air, trying to hold myself together. Took me forever to find my key, push it into the lock, and I recall opening the door but being too afraid to go in.”

Calliope came to Vince’s side. He reached for head, stroking her with long, slow sweeps of his hand. “You see, I usually use Calliope when I arrive home. I send her inside first so that I can watch her and be sure that it’s safe to enter. I know that sounds insane, but it makes things easier for me.”

“It’s not insane, Vince. It’s exactly what we would teach you to do, except we don’t have to, because you and Calliope have worked that out for yourselves.”

Vince nodded quickly. “I recall stepping inside and not wanting to switch on the light. I made my way across the kitchen where I could see down the hall, and when I turned, I saw someone behind me step out from the shadows. I went for the person…for her, knocked her to the floor. She screamed, and god, Lulah, I was back there again. Full-blown flashback, and I started smashing the place up.” He could hear his breath, shallow and fast the way his pounding heart demanded it.

“Calliope, up!”

The dog obeyed Lulah immediately, climbing into his lap.

“Vince, concentrate on Calliope until you’re calm. Deep, slow breathing.”

He dropped his forehead to rest on the top of Calliope’s head and took his time, reassembling himself, his thoughts, until everything slowed. Once the pounding of his heart eased, he whispered some words of gratitude to his dog. Finally capable of facing Lulah, he raised his head. “I hit a woman. I tackled her to the ground. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. Every time I think about it, I—”

“Stop. Let’s keep dealing with the facts.”

Jesus, Lulah in inquisitor mode was formidable.

“Tell me how it finished up…how you ended up here?”

“Well the girl, the woman, ran outside and called her friends. I wasn’t even aware of her by this stage, and I certainly didn’t pursue her. Both cars returned, and apparently the others took care of her, and Zac came in to talk me off the metaphorical ledge where I teetered. At least he has a bit of experience with berserk combatants, so he was good at dealing with me. He wanted me back in the car, but I wanted them out of there for the night. I was jittery as hell, full of booze and adrenaline. Nice mix, huh?”

Lulah watched him, passive, no smile but not alarmed.

“I walked over here. It burned off all the crazy stuff inside of me.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Well, that’s why I needed to see Adam. My keys, for one thing, and I wanted to talk through with him what had happened. We went to see the girl, Alison. Turns out they’d all warned her not to follow me, but she thought it would be hilarious to sneak up and give me a fright. We were all full of it. I’m lucky she won’t lay assault charges.”

“Very lucky.”

“A lucky idiot. If Taryn finds out about this, I can forget about having access to Gable.” The idea of losing that chance because of a night on the booze made his chest tighten. “If I’m not allowed to see Gable, what’s the point in going on?”

“Don’t talk like that. There will always be a way for you to see Gable.”

Right now, that was hard to believe. “There’s something else.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve lost my house. The landlord has kicked me out. He said there have been complaints from the neighbors in the past, and this confirms that I’m no good for the neighborhood. His words. I’ll fix the damage up. There wasn’t much to the kitchen; more my furniture that suffered.”

“Wow. You had a big night, huh?”

Vince nodded.

“You can stay in the barn until you sort things out.” She paused. “One more thing—”

“You’re not in danger, Lulah, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Not intentionally, I’m sure.”

She was right. Who knew what he was capable of during a flashback?

“You need to get help.”

“I’m trying, Lulah. My old doc’s back at the VA. I’m working with him. And I feel so good around you, calm.”

“I’m sorry, Vince; I can’t help you. I can give you a place to stay. I’m always here to talk, but this won’t improve until you completely commit to professional help.”

“Sure.” He felt sick. He’d hoped that of all people, Lulah would hear what he tried to say. Doc was back. Didn’t she understand? He worked hard with him, attending counseling weekly now. He knew he shouldn’t pin his idea of recovery on a single person, but he’d tried other counselors before, and it hadn’t worked. It was as if the VA filled their offices with people who despised vets, people who seemed hell-bent on destroying the little part of himself he clung to. But it would be okay now, because Doc was back.

“No negotiations this time. No thinking you can fix yourself if you tie down your emotions. You stick with the counseling; shrink-wrap all those thoughts.”

Even though she wasn’t really saying what he wanted to hear, she stuck with him, and that was more than he could ask for. He would do it for Lulah, this counseling, and for Gable.

“I want you to do this for yourself, Vince.”

Of course, now she’s a mind reader.

“If you do this for yourself, it flows and makes it better for everyone else around you. Now, do you need bed linen, blankets, a quilt?”

“I have my sleeping bag. I’ll pick up my linen when I clear my stuff out of the house tomorrow.”

“Cool, well you let me know if you need anything. Is the water hot over here? I’ve never needed to check.”

“No, but I’m good. Depending how things go, I can look at fixing something up. Hot water was connected here at some time.”

“You can shower at the cabin. We can share the cooking, if you like.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, but I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Don’t worry.” Lulah grinned. “I’d let you know if you were in the way.”

“I figured that.” He paused. “I’m grateful, Lulah. I don’t deserve this. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Yeah, you do. You thank me by getting yourself better instead of hiding and hoping. Okay?”

When she pushed herself up, swinging her feet to the floor, he saw her wince. “You are sore. What have you done? Can I help you?”

She stopped and stayed sitting instead of rising to her feet. Her head dropped a little so that she studied her boots. Every inch of him wanted to move up alongside her, take her in his arms, check her injuries, and ease the muscles that seemed to ache. Why had she gone out today and pushed herself so that she’d ended up like this? “Did you try to burn off some demons today?” he asked gently.

She shrugged.

“Hey, girl who hates shrugs, don’t do that.”

“Sometimes everything builds up.”

“I know.”

“Sometimes it’s hard being strong.”

Selfish, that’s what he was. Always taking from Lulah, taking her time, her emotional energy, dumping all that shit on her tonight, too self-absorbed to see that she had her own bad days. She looked exhausted and his need to fix that grew.

He could count himself through this, he’d had plenty of practice. By the time he reached his way to ten he would be a gentleman and offer his hand, help her to her feet, walk her to the door, open it, see her out, close it. Stay on his side of the door. But sometimes choosing the right thing to do was difficult when the other thing—the move that under different circumstances could also be the right thing to do—sat so close to the surface.

With closed eyes he started counting, one, two, three…fuck it. He shifted from his chair and in one quick move was alongside her on the sofa, pulling her down with him, easing her legs back along the cushions.

“Vince—”

“Shh, nothing. Rest for a bit.” He held her tight until she relaxed beneath his grip. Her hair inches from his face. Carefully he took in her scent, as if even his cautious inhalation was an act which implied intimacy beyond what was proper.

“We can’t do this.”

Oh, the voice of reason. She was right. This was crazy. Crazy fantastic, and he didn’t want to let her go. Since that back rub she’d given him the other day, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her, about her magic hands that brought him back to life. Made him feel like a man again. Thinking about it now, with her stretched right beside him, made him hard. He closed his eyes and, starting at their feet, made a note of the parts of them that touched.

He lay on his right side, up against the back of the sofa. Lulah stretched on her back alongside him. All he had to do was roll a little and he’d cover her. Or if he moved his left arm, he could touch her, maybe reach for her shoulder, or take her chin and turn her face towards him.

He could inch his hips forward, and she would feel against her thigh the lump in his jeans that gave him hell, that had been showing no mercy since that other night when she’d started the thaw.

She watched him, her lips parted slightly. Do the eye thing; find my soul.

“Let me help you for once, Lulah.”

“What does that entail?”

In a different tone of voice, her question could have been flirtatious. Instead, the words oozed common sense. He could continue from where he’d left off the other night, when he’d talked her topless. Only her boots, socks, and jeans to go, and he’d have her naked. He swiped a broad brush of dark paint over the image he’d conjured and drew a breath.

“It entails you dropping your calm, independent, don’t-rely-on-any-man persona for a while and letting go. We can lie here quietly or you can tell me what’s bothering you, because, I might not be the most together person in your life, but like you, I’m a good listener.”

She stayed silent, breathing, watching him with her gray eyes.

“I could give you a back rub, help your aching muscles.”

She gave a small tremble at that, and her hand lifted a little, as if to touch him.

“Would you like that?”

She nodded then shook her head. It made him smile. They were both on the indecision page, which was way better than the outright ‘no’ thing. “Tell me what happened today. I know you love your mountain biking, but you’ve really pushed yourself. Why?”

“Like you said, I had to burn some stuff off.”

“So did you start a fire?”

“It didn’t work for me.”

He caught her watching again, her eyes questioning.

“How does it work for you?” she asked. “When you go out there, alone, what do you gain from it?”

“We’ve had enough of me tonight. It’s about you now.” He took her hand, the one that moved a little as if too shy to ask for a touch. It set small inside his, and her fingers curled into a loose fist that he was able to completely cup within his own.

“Are you going to capture my wrists?”

Oh, sweet heaven, she remembered! No doubting the hint of flirtation this time. He tried to block it with a squeeze of his eyes, but all that did was bring up the image of her beneath him, wrists caught within one hand. He growled her name and shifted to adjust himself a bit because his cock had gone beyond cursing his jeans. “Tell me about today.”

“Life, Vince, that was today. My grades come through tomorrow, so I’m edgy about that. I have to pass because that position training the service dogs is mine. Nobody else’s. Mine. Adam and Marlo know it’s mine, but the higher powers, the ones with the checkbook, have strict criteria for the person who gets the job, and right now, I don’t fit. Dad is AWOL. I haven’t heard from him since that letter. His phone is disconnected, and I’ve no idea how to track him down. I don’t know if he’s in trouble, or if it’s a ploy to raise my concern. If I worry enough, I’ll be so relieved when I find him I’ll hand over the money. He knows that.”

“Come here.” He pulled her up close. “For a start, you are going to pass and get your degree. You forget that I’ve read everything, and it’s great. They’ll love it. Let’s speak to Adam about your father. He might have some ideas about tracking him down.”

“No, I don’t want to bring Adam into it. This is personal. This side of me doesn’t turn up for work.”

“Jesus, Lulah, really?”

“Really.”

“Adam and Marlo are your friends.”

“It doesn’t come to work.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do. Tomorrow, you give me all the information you have. I know people who might be able to help.”

Lulah laughed. “Gonna have your people call your other people?”

“Something like that.” He loved that laugh, loved the way she bounced back to being Lulah. But he already knew this stuff. It hadn’t gotten her down before, so there must be more. “So what else troubles you?”

“Nothing else.”

Her response came way too lightly and quickly. He wanted to call her out on it, but in fairness, everyone had stuff to hide.

Yes and no.

He headed to the hills to commune with his friends. The four of them were like his cardinal points, his north, south, east, and west. All he wanted to do was find direction again, find the focus of his life that vanished when the IED had blown them to bits—literally to bits—before his eyes. Survivor guilt.

Fuck survivor guilt; he wanted his mates back. Their souls beckoned to him that day, called on him to follow because they knew what his, at that time, did not. So he tried to say goodbye to them as he patched up his own soul wounds and carried on, with the self-imposed burden to make it right.

Now, Lulah had gone out and punished herself physically, driving herself to exhaustion, and it angered him to think that she had something or someone troubling her that way. He was one person who truly understood how bad it had to get before you went and did that sort of thing.

“Vince?”

He pulled his gaze back down to her and…oh God, right there in her face. It was him. “Lulah, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.” He dropped her hand.

“Don’t do that.” She slapped at his chest and grabbed for his hand again.

Her eyes glistened, jewels caught by the light cast from the workbench lamp. No, not tears. He let her take his hand. The push and the pull of this was becoming messy because he wanted the pull, all pull, so that he could haul her up against him, tell her that they’d be fine. But they wouldn’t, and the worst thing was she had always known that. That’s why she’d gone off today, to burn off some angst and ride someone out of her head. “I apologize.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Last night—”

“Yeah, actually, you’re right. Let’s talk a bit more about last night. That hurt, Vince, that you wouldn’t come and have a drink with us, play a game of pool.”

“I know. I tried to tell you. My behavior was inexcusable. I’m not saying that by explaining what happened makes it any more acceptable. What I’m saying is that this is me. I try to control it but I can’t. Stuff rolls in and intrudes on situations.”

“Are you going to use PTSD as a pass every time you feel like being an ass?”

He pushed himself up. “I get enough of this from Taryn—”

“No, really, Vince, I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Know that you’re totally invested in helping yourself.” She swung her legs to the floor and swore.

“There, right there. You are hurt.”

“Yup, I’m hurting, Vince, and you can fix it. However, this”—she pointed to her bruised thigh—“three or four days and this will fix itself.” When she reached the door she called Joker to her side. “Breakfast is at six-thirty.”

Through the window above the workbench, he watched her cross the yard and carefully climb the steps with a leg that was giving her grief. What an idiot he was. Bringing Taryn into this was fucking childish. Nothing like comparing Lulah to the woman you’re about to divorce. He should go after her, apologize, explain, fix it, but her cabin was her sanctuary and busting in there was too intrusive. For her sake, she had to be confident that allowing him to stay in the barn didn’t mean he was going to intrude on her private space.

Back at his workbench, he started on a fresh sheet of paper and sketched Lulah as she’d looked stretched across the sofa. Drawing her was the highest level of intimacy he could allow.

* * *

By Monday evening, he had shifted his gear out of the house and made the repairs to the kitchen door. Jono, from the Sanctuary, came over to give him a hand with moving. All these people being so good to him were pretty amazing, but their generosity was countered by the pressure of a growing emotional debt.

The more help he accepted, the more faith people put in him, the greater the potential of his failure. It didn’t matter what he tried to tell himself, he had reached a stage where solitude was so damned easy. As he finished unpacking a box back at the barn, he found his favorite picture of Gable. With the bottom of his t-shirt, he cleaned the dirt from the frame glass. Solitude might be easy, but it wasn’t going to be an option.