The Difference a Day Makes (Perfect, Indiana: Book Two) (9 page)

R
YAN
’
S FORMER LIEUTENANT RUBBED THE
back of his skull with the palm of his hand, which meant he was thinking things through before he spoke.
Shit.
Ryan had seen him do the very same thing countless times in Iraq, usually when he had a lecture coming to him.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” He swallowed hard. “I never drink during the day, only at night. It’s the only way I can get any rest.”

Noah turned his commander stare on him. “How’s that working out for you?”

“It’s not.” Defeated, Ryan rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands as his eyes filled.
Fuck. I’ve turned into a blubbering idiot.
Wasn’t it bad enough that Paige had seen him passed out with an empty whisky bottle clutched to his chest? Did he have to make it worse by crying in front of Noah?

Noah’s weight shifted the cushions of the couch as he sat down. “There’s more to this than Iraq. Am I right?”

Ryan nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Hell no.
If Theresa’s name passed through his lips, he’d break down completely. He shook his head.

“Self-medicating only exacerbates our problems, Ryan. You know that.”

Another nod was all he could manage. Holding it together took everything he had.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Noah’s voice was dead calm and his tone low. “I don’t want my wife or my children to
ever
see someone they know and
care
about carried out of this apartment in a body bag.
I
don’t want to see that. Which means you have some decisions to make.”

Ryan forced himself to sit up. “I’m not going to off myself. Sometimes the pain gets to be too much, and I—”

“You’re going to make an appointment to see a therapist at the Marion VA center in Evansville,” Noah commanded. “That’s not all. I get together with a group of veterans every Tuesday night. You want to keep this job, the drinking stops
now
. You’re going to start coming with me to group, and you’re going to see a therapist on a regular basis.”

Noah placed his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know about the pain and being haunted, believe me. I understand what you’re going through, but I can’t have this”—he gestured to the suicide letter and the empty whisky bottle on the floor—“anywhere near my family. I didn’t bring you here just to lose you again.” Noah’s voice came out a hoarse rasp.

Ryan nodded, robbed of speech yet again. Paige was right. Noah had given him a chance to improve his life, and he’d almost squandered what he had. Worse, he’d broken Noah’s trust—further proof that everything he touched turned to shit. “I’m sorry, man. I know I’ve let you down.”

“No, you haven’t. Not yet. You have the weekend to think things over. I expect your decision by Monday morning.”

Ryan blew out a shaky breath. The decision was already made. No way did he want to lose the little scrap of sanity working with Noah provided for eight hours each day. It was the nights and weekends that twisted him. “All right.”

“I’m going to tell you what my wife told me a few months after I landed here. To heal, you have to find your passion. You need something in your life that takes you out of yourself, out of your PTSD, and fills you up with something better.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Tears filled Ryan’s eyes again, and hopelessness opened its ugly maw to swallow him whole. “I’ve been lost for so damned long…I’m afraid I won’t…that I can’t…”

Noah’s arms came around his shoulders. He gave him a fierce hug and let him go. “You will, and you can. You’re not alone, bro. Now, get ready for work.”

Ryan scrubbed at his face with both hands. “Paige isn’t going to be there today, is she?” God, could he sound any more pathetic?

“No, she’s not.” Noah grunted. “You have enough on your plate without adding Paige to the mix. You need to focus on getting your own shit together right now. Let it go.”

“Right.”
Sucktacular
. Noah had seen right through him. Time to steer the subject in another direction. “There’s something I’ve been wondering.” He glanced at Noah. “Why did you call that second time?”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The night you called me with the job offer. The phone rang. I didn’t answer, and then it rang again a few minutes later. What made you decide to call back that second time?”

“I didn’t. I only made the one call.”

Ryan’s skin prickled the way it did when his ghosts visited, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Probably my folks.”

“Huh. That’s another thing. When’s the last time you called your mom?”

“Damn, Noah.” He scrubbed his face again.

“Had enough, eh?” Noah slapped Ryan’s back and rose from the couch. “Call your folks. I’m sure they’d appreciate knowing where you are and that you’re alive.”

“Sure.”
No way.
Ryan watched Noah cross the room to the door.

“I’ll drive you to work from now on. Come up to the big house when you’re ready.” Noah walked outside and came right back in. “Paige is down by the river. I don’t like the idea of my little sister with
your
.357 in her hands. Your gun. Your problem. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.” Ryan hurried to his bedroom, dropped his cutoff sweats, and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt while steeling himself for whatever flack he’d get from Paige. Once he was out the door, he caught sight of her. She had her back to him, and her arms were wrapped around her midsection as if she were in a world of hurt. Fragile. He’d done that. His poor heart sank to the hollow bottom of his gut.

Both her hands were visible, and neither one held his gun. At least she wouldn’t shoot him. He came up beside her, jamming his hands into his pockets to keep from dragging her into his arms. “What did you do with my gun?”

She pointed to the middle of the river and made a jerky, breathy sound.

Was that a hiccup? Ryan turned to check her out. “Are you crying?”

“Of course I’m crying, you idiot.” She took a swing, connecting with his biceps. “No more guns. No more suicide notes. No more suicidal thoughts. Or I’ll shoot you myself.” Another fist
connected with his shoulder. “Do you hear me, Ryan? Never. Ever. Again.”

“You don’t understand.” His chest twisted into a tight mess, and his damn eyes filled again.

“You’re right. I don’t. How could you
possibly
see suicide as an acceptable option?” She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re in, but I have news for you. Suicide leaves everyone around you with a load of shit they don’t deserve.”

“Hey, now—”

“Are your parents still living?” She turned to face him, her expression full of anguish. “Can you imagine for a second what it would be like to lose a child that way?” She turned back to stare at the Ohio. “A good friend of mine from high school lost her father to suicide. I understand plenty.”

“No, you don’t.” Her words salted the open wounds in his soul. “You might think you do, but you don’t.” Anger and frustration pulsed through him. Who did she think she was to talk to him like that? Then she did something so unexpected and amazing that all the anger left him in a whoosh—along with all the air in his lungs. She snaked her arms around his waist and held him, laying her cheek against his shoulder.

“You survived, Ryan,” she whispered. “That’s a gift. Instead of falling to your knees and thanking the powers that be, you want to put a bullet through your head?” She leaned her head back to look at him, and her eyes plumbed his with a depth that drew him under for the count.

“It’s you who doesn’t understand, cowboy. You’re too close to the pain. Don’t you see? You’ve lost all perspective and have no objectivity.”

The subtle musky scent of her perfume wafted up around him, mixed with her own unique smell. He could get drunk on
that alone.
Oh, Lord. I’m lost.
He tangled his fingers in her silken hair, tipped up her face, and let his mouth collide with hers like a heat-seeking missile. Wrapping his arms around her, he hung on for dear life. Miracle of miracles, she kissed him back.

His chest expanded until it couldn’t contain any more of the mind-bending sensations spinning through him, making him dizzy. Hope. How long had it been since he’d opened up enough to get close to anyone, especially a woman? Fear and panic drove that fragile flicker away. Once Paige truly saw him for the wreck he was, she’d surely run the other way.

Desire stole his breath, and all thought momentarily left his head—until fear and panic kicked his ass again.
Shit.
Hope, fear, desire, panic, desire…hope. Warring emotions chased around inside him, until her tongue slid along his. Then his heart hammered away at the panic and the fear until the only thing left was the soft, warm miracle of having Paige in his arms. He struggled to keep his legs under him. Long before he was ready, she ended his brief foray into heaven and stepped out of his hold.

Scratching at her chin and cheeks, she blinked up at him. “That was like kissing my uncle’s sheepdog.”

Despite Noah’s warning, he couldn’t walk away, not from Paige. He raked a trembling hand through his hair. “Damn if you aren’t the most confounding woman I’ve ever met.”

“No doubt.” A grin tugged at her luscious lips.

He wanted more. He wanted to get drunk on her taste, on the feel of her warmth against him. She’d give ol’ J.W. a run for his money—that’s for damn sure. Maybe having Paige in his arms would keep his nightmares at bay.

“What happened to Theresa?”

“Dammit, Paige!” His brow shot up. “You
read
my letter?”

“Yes, I did, and if I had it all to do over, I’d read it again.” Her chin came up a defiant notch. “You mentioned she died, but you didn’t say how. What happened?”

“Trust me”—he stared out at the river and growled low in his throat—“you don’t want to know.”

“Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want. I asked, and I think it would be good for you to talk about it.”

“What, are you my shrink now?” All the good feelings he’d gleaned from their kiss disappeared. What right did she have to poke around in his shit? Wait. He wanted to poke around in hers, right? He glanced at her. “Quid pro quo.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll tell you everything if you do the same.”

“What are you talking about?” She frowned. “I don’t have anything to tell.”

“Sure you don’t.” He tried his best to imitate Noah’s commander stare. “What brought you to Perfect, little girl? You’re hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”

“Crap.” Her face fell, and her shoulders slumped.

Ryan wanted to kiss the distress right out of her. Instead, he held his ground, feeling a little better now that he was off the hot seat.

“All right.” She glanced at him through her lashes. “It’s a deal. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“You’ve already seen
mine
, darlin’.” He winked, and a glimmer of a smile curved her sexy lips. He liked that he had that effect on her.

“Not here, though.” Paige glanced back toward the big house. “This stays between you and me. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” What the hell could she possibly have to hide? “I’ve been meaning to take a trip into Evansville for some art supplies. How about coming with me? Let’s go tomorrow after Noah and
Ceejay get home. We can grab some lunch and do some snooping around. I also have to stop by the VA center to make a couple of appointments. It won’t take long.”

“Now, see, if you had a phone, you could
call
and make those appointments.” She gave him a pointed look. “We’ll pick one out tomorrow.”

He groaned. “If you insist.” Her answering smile set off another chain reaction of hope, lust, and panic. Seeing a therapist sounded better and better every minute. He had no idea how to deal with everything this little spitfire stirred up inside him. Swallowing hard, he stiffened his spine against the onslaught. “I’ll pick you up around eleven.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Vintage .357s like the one you chucked into the river don’t come cheap. You owe me. You’ll be the one buying my phone, little girl.”

“Don’t count on that,
little boy
.” She turned away and started walking. “Go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His gaze fixed on her curvaceous form as she sashayed toward the big house. Was she swaying those hips a bit more for his benefit? A grin broke free.
Hoh.
When was the last time he’d smiled just because?
Damn
. He had a date.

Toby was down for his nap. Finally. Who knew taking care of a fifteen-month-old would be so exhausting? Paige plopped onto the living room couch next to the baby monitor. She opened her laptop and brought up the job search site while her mind went back to the morning’s drama. Ryan’s kiss had shaken her world—not that she’d let him see it.

She couldn’t help comparing. Anthony’s kisses had never affected her the way Ryan’s did. His touch, the way he held her so close, like he wanted their bodies to meld, sent orgasmic currents of heat sizzling through her, along with a yearning so deep she almost started tearing up again just thinking about it. Dang. She’d lost her breath—and a little bit of her heart.