The Promise of Rainbows (19 page)

“I let you down,” he said with a burn in his throat. Just like he had done with Booker.

“Jake,” she said, a steely command. “You listen to me. You did not let me down or put me in danger. Part of this is my fault. I knew you were upset, but I didn’t know what to say. That won’t happen again. I’m going to listen to my instincts.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he ground out, knowing it had to be that way. “You need to run away from me. Someone else can finish the house. I’m only going to drag you down.”

“That’s total bullshit,” she said in a tone angry enough to break through his funk.

“I didn’t know you swore.”

“Only when the situation demands it,” she said, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “I am
not
letting anyone else decorate your house. And I sure as hell am not running away from you because you had a bad moment. And Jake, you are
not
going to drag me down. I wish you’d stop believing that. I’m a hell of a lot stronger than that.”

The fire in her voice cleared his head even more. She was dead serious, and he was relieved. This situation wasn’t going to make her run, although God knew it should.

“I’m going to drive us back to your house,” she told him. “You can either sit there and count all the blessings you have in your life or you can call my mama and talk to her about what happened.”

He couldn’t call her mama in front of her. It was one thing for her to see his shame. It was another to have her know the reasons behind it. “I’ll sit here.”

She ran her eyes over him, as if conducting a final inspection on the state of his health. Then she cupped his cheek again. Her green eyes were wet with tears, he realized.

“Don’t you ever tell me to run away from you again or that you let me down,” she whispered.

His throat closed, and darn it all if tears didn’t pop into his eyes too. He nodded, but as she put the car in gear, he wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise.

Chapter 14

Susannah prayed the whole way back to Jake’s house. He pretty much stared out the window. She turned on NPR at one point to fill the silence, but he mumbled, “Sorry,” and flicked it off. Only then did she remember reading that people with PTSD were sensitive to noise.

When they arrived at his house, he told her to take them around to the back. He hit the garage door opener on the windshield.

“Go ahead and pull in,” he muttered.

There were three four-wheelers inside the garage, and a line of fishing poles were suspended from one of the side walls. A tackle box rested on a counter beneath them. She turned off the engine and watched as Jake pushed himself out of the car with the energy of an old man. Taking a breath, she unbuckled her seatbelt and left the truck. He was standing at the rear, looking at his feet.

“Let me help you carry these things inside,” she said, feeling at sea again.

“I can get them later,” he said, still not looking at her. “You go on home. Thanks again for your help earlier.”

The words sounded as if they were being rolled across sandpaper. He turned to walk away from her, and that’s when she realized what she had to do.

She lurched forward and grabbed his hand.

He jumped a foot, but she only gripped it harder. He shifted on his feet until they were facing each other. His tired cobalt blue eyes fixed on her face.

“If you think I’m going to just get in my car and leave you, you’re crazy.”

His hand went lax in hers, like he was trying to let go, but it only made her more determined. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that holding his hand connected them. Right now he needed to be connected to someone.

“I’m fine, Susannah,” he said, releasing a giant gust of air. “You can go.”

She shook her head and stepped closer to him. His whole body tensed, whether from fear or rejection or touch, she couldn’t be sure. She only knew she needed to reach him, and if touching him was the only way to remind him that he was whole, then she would touch him but good.

Gripping his one hand so hard he couldn’t let go, she lifted the other and traced his jawline. It locked, and he closed his eyes.

“Don’t,” he whispered, agony lacing his voice.
“Please.”

Her heart felt crushed under the weight of his despair. “Look at me, Jake.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, like he was fighting her, but she only cupped his cheek—like she had done when they were in the truck. He swallowed thickly.

“Look at me,” she repeated more forcefully.

Finally he looked at her, but he ducked his head. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Her heart broke clean in half. She nestled close to him and rose on her tiptoes to press her cheek against his. “There is nothing wrong with you. You don’t have
anything
to be ashamed of.”

Their hold was awkward, but he finally clenched the hand she’d so determinedly clutched. They held each other that way as the rain continued to fall outside. His heart pounded against her chest, a sure sign of his distress. Then he pressed his face into her neck in surrender, and she was lost. The tears she’d been fighting since Sweetwater started to fall.

He must have felt the wetness on his skin because he darted back. “I made you cry.”

“I’m crying for you,” she said, baring herself to the truth—a truth he needed to hear right now. “I can’t imagine what things must have been like...”

“That doesn’t excuse what happened.”

She disagreed. He couldn’t hear that right now, but maybe the truth of it would penetrate if she said it enough. “Let’s go inside. We both could use something warm after all that rain.”

His steps were reluctant, but he let her lead him to the side door to the house. She kept a hold of his hand as they entered the mudroom and walked down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Do you want tea or coffee?” she asked him, leading him to the pantry.

“I don’t have any tea,” he said, his boots scraping the kitchen tiles.

Of course he didn’t. Not many single men kept a supply of it. “Coffee then.”

He had an Italian coffee maker in the corner of the counter closest to the stainless steel sink. She kept hold of his hand as she crossed to it.

“Are you ever going to let go of my hand?” he asked, following her.

Since she wasn’t sure he would stay with her if she did, she shook her head. “Not yet. Making coffee is going to be a two-person job this time.”

He didn’t fight her. The process was awkward, and it took a bit longer than it might have otherwise, but soon they had coffee percolating.

“Now for the mugs,” she told him.

This time, he led her to the cabinet over the dishwasher and removed two plain white mugs one at a time. She nearly smiled. While she thought it might be safe to release his hand now, she found that she didn’t want to. He was still vulnerable, and if she were being honest, so was she.

When the coffee reached the end of the brewing cycle, they walked over to the station, each holding a cup. Taking turns, they poured the coffee and then walked over to his new kitchen table. It was a simple mahogany with a beautiful grain. It had immediately caught his eye in the Nashville showroom she’d taken him to. The taupe upholstered chairs kept things casual and comfortable, like he preferred.

They didn’t release their grip on each other’s hands as they sat beside each other on those taupe chairs. Susannah’s hand was starting to cramp, but she didn’t care. She brought their connected hands to rest on her thigh. There was nothing sexual in the gesture. She only wanted to be close to him, and since he wasn’t as tense as he’d been before, she knew he didn’t want to be far from her either.

They drank their coffee in the quiet kitchen. Usually she took cream and sugar in hers since black was too strong, but there was no way she was going to lead him across the kitchen again like a chain gang.

She could feel him gathering himself beside her, and she prayed for the right words when he broke the silence.

He set his mug aside and squeezed her hand. “I’m fine now. Really.”

He
was
better, but he was far from fine. “I’m glad, but I think I’ll just keep you company a while longer.” A dark thought entered her mind—one she was scared to voice. Would it be safe to leave him alone after what had happened? She’d asked her mama for a little reading on PTSD, but none of the materials had prepared her for today.

Was he feeling equally at sea? She expected he must be since he’d told her to all but run. She might as well put it out there carefully because if she didn’t, she didn’t know how to help him.

“So this has happened before…” she said gently.

He pushed the mug forward a couple of inches, playing with the handle. “Yeah, but not for a long time. Mostly I suffer from nightmares, but they…don’t come all the time. This…I feel like I’m back to square one again. Every time I have an episode like this, I’m afraid my PTSD won’t ever go away.”

The despair lacing his voice pierced her heart anew. “You’re not back to square one,” she said, hoping she was saying the right thing. “Do you know what triggered it? It seems…um…related to the young woman from the restaurant.”

“So it would seem,” he agreed, his jaw tight.

Best to look him straight in the eye. She put her mug down and swiveled in her chair to face him, rearranging their joined hands to rest on her knees. He stared at their hands while she scanned his face. His mouth was pressed firmly together, like he was struggling with himself.

“Tell me what I can do to help you. I want to, but I don’t…well…want to make things worse by saying or asking things that will dredge up more pain.”

He took a couple of deep breaths before answering, “You’ve already helped, Susannah, and for that, I’m grateful. Not many people would have hung in there with me. Not that you had much choice, what with us being in the center lane on the highway.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if we’d been in the center lane or on…” She tried to think of something more outrageous. “A submarine. I still would have stayed with you. It’s what…” She trailed off. She’d been about to say,
It’s what friends do for each other.
But he was so much more than that. So, she said instead, “It’s what you do when you care about someone.”

“You shouldn’t say that to me.” He lowered his head and rested it on their joined hands on her knee. “I’m messed up, Susannah.”

She would have to trust her mama to help him, but right now, she could do her part. Leaning over, she pressed her cheek against his back. “You’re
not
messed up. Not to me. What you’ve done is heroic, fighting over there and then coming back here to start over in a completely different profession.”

“I couldn’t fight anymore,” he whispered harshly. “The cost was too high.”

“It’s okay,” she said, knowing it wasn’t—not for him, not after today. She still wanted to ask why he didn’t see himself as a hero, why that young woman’s request for an autograph for her brother had triggered him. But she didn’t. She’d leave the questions to her mama, who was better equipped.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t provide comfort. She was good at comforting, and right now, he needed it. She raised his head and kissed his cheek, feeling a trace of wetness there. Was he crying? Her whole body tensed. Men crying simply slayed her.

“Come here,” she said, nestling closer.

He leaned back until they were only inches apart. She pulled on her left hand, and he let it go. She traced his jaw. Something like wonder flashed in his eyes, almost like a falling star flashing across the heavens. A current of power surged between them, adding to the warmth created by their connection. She found herself touching his lips with her fingers. Their eyes locked together.

“There’s
nothing
wrong with you,” she whispered.

The pull between their bodies grew heavier, and she found herself closing the final distance between them. She kissed his lips softly, hearing his surprised inhale of breath and feeling the jump of his muscles under her fingertips.

“Susannah,” he uttered harshly, his grip on her hand almost painful now.

Unable to resist the need to comfort him, she flowed into him, kissing his mouth again, his jaw, and his cheek—first the right one and then the left.

He nestled closer. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Since his actions were at odds with his words, she continued to rub the back of his neck with her free hand and press gentle kisses to his jaw. When she returned to his mouth, he turned his head, and their lips met full on. The softness of them had her sighing.

And just that simply, they were kissing each other.

He finally released her hand and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her onto his lap. His mouth took hers in heated passes, and for a woman who hadn’t been kissed much, she was stunned by the power of this connection. Their hands had been one thing, but their lips…

His body heat surrounded her. His hands came up to cradle her head as he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. She lay against his arms, her legs trailing over his thigh like she was lounging on a sofa bed. She had a moment to be thankful she wasn’t straddling him. That would be too much, too soon. For both of them.