“How’s your head?” I ask from the door.

Elle’s eyes are the only things that move on her body as she meets my gaze. “Better, thanks.”

“Do you want to try eating a bit more? To get your strength up?” I ask, but as I step closer to the bed, the first thing I notice is the tray of half-eaten eggs, toast, a glass of juice, and an unopened yogurt cup on the nightstand. Samuel must have brought that to her while I was in the laundry room. “Nix that. You’re already covered, I see.”

“Yes. It was just what I needed. My head’s clear, and the dizziness has subsided for the most part.”

“Good to hear.” I’m relieved for more than the obvious reason. Of course, I’m glad she feels better, but knowing that Elle’s clear-headed and still not revolted by my scars, well, it feels pretty fucking awesome to be in the same room with someone other than Samuel after all this time. And for that someone to be a gorgeous woman who’s attracted to me, I’m over the moon.

“You can come in, you know. It is your room, after all.”

“True.” I don’t want to crowd her, so I take a seat on the sofa.

“Samuel says I should thank you.”

“Yeah? For what?”

“I couldn’t get a signal from my cell, but was able to make a call on your satellite phone.”

“That’s great. Did you speak to your landlord about the damage?”

“I tried. He didn’t answer. He probably has the same problem with his cell and house phone as we do. I left him a message, though.”

“Once the roads are cleared, the power lines are usually the first thing the county will work on. After that, the phone and internet disruptions are usually resolved pretty fast. But we can drive you to Mr. Green’s for some answers as soon as the roads are halfway decent. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You’re right. I mean, I had to get contents insurance on my things when I rented the cabin. Most everything in there is replaceable.” Her eyes seem to fill with sadness as she looks past the lid of her laptop to a spot on the wall. “Well, almost.”

Right. She said something about that earlier, and I remember telling myself I’d go back and find it for her as soon as the roads are clear. I don’t care if it’s a shred of paper or a five-hundred-pound piece of furniture. If it’s not somewhere among the things I brought over in the duffle bag, I’ll find it for her the second I can make it back to her cabin. Even if I have to shovel through the shit ton of debris from the roof.

“Was there something specific you lost? I think you mentioned earlier that your work bag was one of the two things most important to you. What’s the second thing?”

I observe her as she rubs her fingertips across a spot on her wrist, staring down at longingly. It has to be jewelry. A watch maybe, or a bracelet. A slew of emotions flashes across her face, leaving her so sad and forlorn that it takes everything for me not to cross the room and pull her into my arms and make it better.

“It’s a bracelet. Not the usual kind. I had it custom made a few years ago.”

“What does it look like?”

“Army dog tags. Two of them. I had a jewelry shop fuse them together, and they added a sterling silver backing for the piece to fit around my wrist.” She stops speaking and swallows hard, closing her eyes tightly as though trying to push away tears, or a memory of something. “One belonged to my father. The other was my brother’s.”

“They were both soldiers?” My heart tightens in my chest as she nods. “Samuel and I served, years back. I can’t imagine what that must feel like, losing them both. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Her eyes fill with tears that she quickly brushes away. “I wear it all the time, you know? To remember. I mean, I have pictures and other things at my apartment, and my mom has a lot of both their stuff at her place too, but this was special. They were wearing it when…”

“I understand. I’m really sorry you lost it,” I add, although I’m also sure I saw the bracelet among her stuff in the laundry room.

“I just take it off at night…but I forgot to grab it when the roof almost came down on me. I can’t believe I didn’t remember to grab it.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I saw your bedroom when I went back there. Trust me, you wouldn’t have survived if you’d stopped to look for stuff. Try not to worry, okay? It’ll turn up. I’m sure of it. If it’s in that cabin, I’ll find it.”

She lifts a hand to the side of her neck and massages a spot as she meets my eyes. “I appreciate you saying that, but you don’t have to go back there for me.” She takes a deep breath that causes her chest to rise and fall, returning her gaze to the laptop screen. “You got me my laptop. Just for that alone, you saved my hide already.”

“That was no problem.”

She returns to her work for a while, and I sit there, eyes on the window as I push away the urge to get off the sofa, find her bracelet, and take it to her. The reason I stay is simple. Something tells me she doesn’t want to be alone right now.

And when she looks over at me again, I’m glad to be there for her next question.

“Hey, can I take a look at your eyes up close again?”

“Sure,” I answer. It’s a strange request, but the truth is, already, I’ll do just about anything for Elle. I don’t mind having a reason to be near her.

Taking a seat in bed beside her, I turn slightly so she can look into my eyes. Elle shifts her entire body to face me, moving the laptop between her legs. She continues to type, and every so often, looks up at my face, studying my eyes.

“I want you to tell me something,” I say to her at one point. “If I’m not interruption you, that is.”

She stops typing. “Shoot.”

“It doesn’t scare you?”

Her eyes narrow from what seems like confusion. “What doesn’t scare me? Losing all my crap at the cabin? Of course, it does. I’m mostly worried about how I’ll finish this book if I don’t have a place to hide out, you know? I can’t get any peace and quiet at my apartment down in the city. I’ve got a few chapters left, you know? I thought I’d be able to send this to my editor in a week, and then it’d be a matter of—”

“No, what I meant,” I say, cutting her off even though I’m enjoying the sound of her voice as she tells me everything with such openness. “What I mean is, how are you not completely revolted by my face right now?”

“You mean from that little scar?”

I blink slowly a few times, in disbelief. That’s not the answer I was expecting. “It’s not little.”

“It is to me. My mom and I spent hundreds of hours volunteering at VA hospitals in Henderson, North Las Vegas, and at the VA pain clinic. That scar of yours, it’s not the biggest I’ve seen.”

Her explanation and her earlier reaction—or lack of it—make complete sense now. She’s been around vets, voluntarily, and that puts her in a unique position. It’s clear to me now. Elle sees past my exterior, past the countless rounds of skin grafts and pain treatments, the months and months in a hospital bed, followed by close to a year of physical therapy. She gets what I went through. She lost her father and brother too. Elle understands my loss. And I crave her that much more for it.

“Wow.”

“You know something?” she asks, continuing to tap away on the laptop keyboard.

“What?”

“My dad used to say that you can’t expect to go to war and come back without a few battle scars. He used to call them the real war medals.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

Her face softens, and she stops typing. “You would’ve liked him.” She lifts a hand between us, closing in on my face, but stops when her fingers are mere inches away. “Do you mind? Can I touch it…your scars?”