Treasure on Lilac Lane: A Jewell Cove Novel (24 page)

He ignored the pain in his hand and curled it around her neck, pulling her closer so he could kiss her properly. Her body melted against him and she made a soft sound in her throat. Damn, she was sweet. Sweet and sultry, innocent and earthy all at once. Jess Collins was a whole lot of woman and at this moment, with her in his arms, he felt a protective possessiveness he’d never felt before.

Somehow they made it to the stairs with their lips still joined. Rick swept her into his arms and she leaned against his chest. Slowly they made their way up the stairs, Rick constantly aware of the side of her breast pressed against him and the way her lips nuzzled at his neck. Good God, she was going to be the end of him if she wasn’t careful.

He hadn’t redecorated his room, and for a moment he realized that it wasn’t exactly romantic with the boyish spread and posters still tacked on the wall. Jess didn’t seem to mind, though, as he put her down carefully on top of the covers.

Before things went further, he opened the drawer of his nightstand and took out a condom, putting the foil packet on the top of the stand. He wanted her to know. Know that he was prepared. Know that he would take care of her …

And he did. Twice, before sleep finally overtook them as they curled together under the bedding.

*   *   *

Jess rolled over, her eyes slowly opening as she came awake. The bed was empty beside her, and a quick glance at the alarm clock next to the bed told her it was eleven fifteen.

She was naked under the blankets and she stretched luxuriously, feeling the soft cotton against her skin. It was such a revelation to have a physical relationship based on mutual pleasure. On giving and receiving.

A sliver of light was visible at the bottom of the bedroom door. Rick was up. Maybe it had simply been too early for him to go to sleep. Or maybe he’d needed some space. Things had been pretty intense there for a while. Intense and awesome.

There was a T-shirt on a nearby chair, so Jess rolled out of bed and pulled it on. She was tall enough that the shirt barely covered her bottom, but she didn’t care. On quiet feet she padded to the door and gently opened it. The light was coming from the bathroom across the hall. The door was open and she could see Rick standing at the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

He spun around, startled by her voice and the smile slid from her face.

She’d never thought. Never considered or expected. He’d removed his prosthesis, and the stump of his arm was visible.

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you…”

His face went blank, devoid of any emotion. “I thought you were asleep. I take it off at night. The batteries need to charge and I have to look after my skin.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude…” Lord, she felt like such an idiot. She didn’t know where to look. She was curious about his arm but didn’t want to stare; she was acutely embarrassed and couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s okay if you freak out a little. You weren’t expecting to see me without the arm.”

He looked so tough, so wounded as he stood in front of her dressed in nothing more than a pair of boxers. The scars on his chest still looked angry, even after all this time, and it was impossible to ignore the missing limb. He’d been through so much.

“I’ll be done soon.”

She stepped closer. “What do you have to do?”

His jaw tightened. “I have to clean the socket, charge it up, wash my arm, and moisturize it.”

“Can I help?”

There. At her offer, there was a flicker of emotion. He wasn’t as immune as he was pretending to be. But he’d accepted her. If she was going to be with him he deserved no less from her.

“Jess…”

She entered the room and saw soapy water in the sink. She grabbed the washcloth, wrung it out, and with her heart in her throat, reached for his arm, lifting his elbow so that his handless forearm was extended her way, over the basin of the sink. Gently she applied the cloth, wiping along his arm, slowly soaping the skin and rinsing away the suds. The air in the room grew heavy, weighted with emotions and unanswered questions. Jess put the cloth back in the water and reached for a towel, patting the skin dry.

Then, without saying a word, she reached for the lotion on the counter and squirted a healthy amount into her palm. Slowly she worked the lotion into the skin.

The muscle and bone were firm beneath her fingers and she massaged the lotion into his warm skin. Rick’s eyes were closed, his breath slow and steady. She hoped that what she was doing felt good. That it helped relax the muscles in his arm. She kneaded with her fingers, starting above his elbow and working her way down.

“Do you ever get phantom pain?” she asked softly, still kneading.

“Sometimes. Not as often as I used to.” His voice was gritty. “That feels good, Jess. Real good.”

“I’m glad.” She got more lotion and started over. “It hurts me to think of this happening to you. It must have been so hard.”

He shook his head. He turned a bit, resting his hips against the vanity, allowing her better access to his arm and relaxing his shoulders. “The physical stuff wasn’t as bad as the other,” he replied. “That’s what most people don’t get. Yeah, adjusting to an artificial limb’s a challenge. It’s not what keeps me up at night, though.”

Her heart gave an odd little thump. “What does keep you up at night?”

His eyes opened. “People.”

Keep your fingers moving,
she reminded herself, wanting to keep him talking. She sensed they were on the verge of something important. “Anyone in particular?

“Does there need to be?”

There was an edge to his voice that reached out to her. “I think so, yes,” she answered, her fingertips stroking the soft skin now. “I think that something happened that keeps you up at night. Something that you try to escape, or at least cancel out, first with your drinking and now with your painting.” She stopped rubbing and looked up into his face. “Am I right?”

“You trying to psychoanalyze me, Saint Jess?”

The nickname told her she was on the right track. “Maybe I get it, Rick. I started doing all these crafts and projects to keep my mind and hands busy after I left Mike. It was important that I was able to make something, to build something that was maybe not necessary but added a bit of beauty to a world that could be pretty damned ugly. I made it my livelihood, but I think it’s pretty cool that I was able to take something that started out as a kind of self-therapy and now make my living at it, you know?”

She put her hands around his forearms, linking the two of them together. “I know your painting is your therapy. I wish you’d talk to me, though. Tell me what happened.”

He pulled his arms away. “I’m doing better. I’m not sure bringing it all up again is such a good idea.”

Rick put the lotion back in its spot and tidied the supplies on the vanity. Jess’s heart ached for him. He was so defensive she knew whatever he was keeping inside was still eating him up. “Rick, you helped me, more than you know. Won’t you let me return the favor?”

He put the cap on the rubbing alcohol and then turned back to face her. “You don’t want to know, Jess. It’s not pretty.”

“Of course it’s not. If it were pretty, it wouldn’t be hurting you so much. What really happened when you were wounded? Why is it so hard to forget? If it’s not the injury, what? Did you lose someone important?”

“Dammit, Jess!” His patience at an end, Rick snapped out the words and pushed his way past her to the door. She sighed as his feet hit the stairs heavily, taking him to the lower level of the house.

With soft steps she followed him in the dark, down the stairs and past the porch door to the living room beyond. She found him sitting on the sofa, his elbows on his knees. She couldn’t help but notice his arm, an obvious physical reminder of so much else going on underneath the surface.

“Rick,” she said quietly, going to him and sitting beside him on the sofa. The only light in the room came from whatever filtered through the windows from the streetlamp two houses away. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

She snorted then. “Oh come on. You think just because I didn’t go through exactly what you did that I can’t understand? That I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone I care about? That I don’t have guilt, or regrets, or understand emotional trauma? Do you really think that?”

“Jess, I…”

But she kept going. “I lost my father. He was the one man I counted on for everything. He was the rudder of our family and suddenly he was gone and no one knew how to function without him. The last thing I wanted was to make things worse, add grief to a bad situation, so I kept my mouth shut and tried to make things better behind the scenes. But I needed love, too, you know? By the time I graduated, I had such a low sense of self-worth that I was ripe for the picking for someone like Mike Greer.”

She took a breath, met his black gaze in the semidarkness, and pressed on. “I wish I’d been better at dealing with my feelings. I wish I’d had better self-esteem. I wish I’d realized that I was capable of more. You want regrets? I’ve got them by the bucket load. Mike took more from me than any man ever should. You think this scar on my belly is bad? It’s nothing compared to the scar in here”—she pressed her hand to her chest—“and the guilt I carry around every damn day.”

“Jess,” he said again, softer this time. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“None of us does,” she replied, her throat raw. “You just do it.”

Quiet descended over the room until Jess heard Rick sigh deeply. “His name was Kyle.”

He’d started, and now she had to tread carefully to make sure he kept going. “Kyle?” she urged.

He nodded. “He was a good kid. A good soldier and a good friend. A brother.”

Rick stopped for a minute, but Jess simply waited for him to continue.

“We became buddies. He was young and fresh-faced, from a farm in Kansas and had a wicked sense of humor. Nothing seemed to get him down, you know? And that was saying something considering where we were. And sing; man, could that kid sing. Just when you thought you couldn’t stand another minute, he’d break out into some stupid song. Usually Weird Al, so we’d get laughing. And in the absence of that, he’d make up his own words.”

“He sounds great,” she murmured, wondering if he realized how his voice had warmed talking about his friend.

“We were nearly done with our tour when someone found out he had a partner at home.”

By the way Rick said
partner,
Jess immediately got what he was saying. “Kyle was gay.”

“Yeah.”

The warmth was gone from his voice now, replaced by a hard edge. “I didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t like he was running around the camp hitting on us, you know? He was like a little brother. The guy was in a relationship. But there were a few in our unit who didn’t feel the same way.”

“There was trouble?”

“He got the shit beat out of him.”

The room fell utterly silent.

Finally Rick spoke again. “The next day, we were out on a patrol when we were ambushed. Kyle should never even have been along, but he was so determined they wouldn’t get the best of him, you know? He refused to say a word about who attacked him, covered up his injuries. He just took it on the chin and kept going. But it slowed him down and he got hit. I was running out to get him when an RPG hit the vehicle he’d been using for cover.”

Jess couldn’t imagine the horror of such a thing, or what it must be like to be in that kind of extreme situation. “What happened to him?” she asked gently.

“He died,” Rick answered, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. Jess now understood that the detached tone meant he was protecting himself from feeling too much. “When I woke up I was in a hospital, full of holes, and minus one hand just above the wrist.”

So he’d seen his friend die, and then he’d been wounded himself so that he was powerless. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, putting her hand on his knee and squeezing reassuringly. “But it wasn’t your fault. You know that. You were trying to save him.”

Rick’s haunted eyes searched hers. “But I didn’t. I should have reported what I knew to our CO. I should have tried to protect him. He never should have been with us that day, only I kept my mouth shut.”

And she could tell that no amount of talking or urging on her part was going to change his mind. He blamed himself, and that was that.

“Whatever happened to the guys who assaulted him?” she asked gently.

Rick’s face twisted with distaste. “Nothing, as far as I know. I never went back. And I never said anything, either. I thought it was better to let it go and not kick the hornet’s nest, you know? Stuff like that has serious ramifications. And since Kyle hadn’t meant for people to find out, I told myself that he wouldn’t want his name dragged through an investigation. Nothing would bring him back…”

Jess cuddled closer, leaned her head on his shoulder. “It makes sense,” she answered.

“Maybe it does, but talking about regrets … I can’t help thinking that I should have gotten him some kind of justice. Or I should have looked out for him so he wasn’t hurt at all, and would have been at the top of his game. I failed him all the way around, Jess, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She wrapped her arms around his middle. “You can’t do that to yourself, Rick. I’m sure he would understand…”

But he pushed her away. “
I
don’t understand. And the hand thing? Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass, but the drinking? I see his face at night, Jess. When I’m sleeping. When I was drinking, I’d go to sleep and not see anything. Of course the hangover was a bitch, but I could forget for just a little while.”

“But you stopped.” She smiled encouragingly.

“Because my mom made me promise. It’s pretty hard to deny your dying mother anything. And I started painting more instead. At night when I couldn’t sleep. Anything to think about something other than his face. Jesus, he was just a boy.”

He’d lost so much. It wasn’t much wonder he’d been an emotional wreck. Jess’s heart went out to him, sitting with his elbows on his knees in the darkness. He’d come a long way, too. He’d found a job, looked after his mom, stayed off the bottle, and he’d become someone Jess could rely on. All the while being all alone, with no support system to speak of beyond Tom and Josh. Rick was so much stronger than she had given him credit for.