When You Make It Home (2 page)

“Are you sure? I’m supposed to be helping you.” I took a deep breath, determined to pull myself together, but prickling sweat popped out on my brow.

“Let’s go.” Ellie put her arm around my waist and led me away from the crowd. I looked over my shoulder. Theo was eating from a plate on a TV tray, carefully chewing each bite. Melinda sat next to him looking calm and composed.

After Ellie left, I kicked off my heels and hung my jacket and T-shirt over the chair of her antique vanity in the far corner of the room. The ceiling fan, set to low, spun in lazy circles. I lifted my hair in a twist and looked down at my body. The camisole that used to conceal my belly accentuated the protruding bump. I couldn’t deny the obvious.

There
was
a baby on board.

I tugged the hem of my camisole up over my bump and tucked it under my swollen breasts. The snug top stayed where I’d left it. I couldn’t believe someone was in there. Before, every choice I’d ever made was calculated. A few random decisions had changed everything.

The bedroom door banged open, and I jumped, expecting Jake or Ellie. Instead, Theo lumbered in on his crutches and slammed the door behind him.

“Excuse me, do you mind?” I tugged my top in place to cover myself, but Theo’s gaze took in my bare skin. He watched my movements closely and locked the door. For some reason I flushed and grew warmer as he came closer to the bed.
Could he want to trap me?
Of course, the thought was ridiculous. I was pretty sure my small, five-foot-five-inch, exhausted, knocked-up self could plow through a one-legged boy covered in bandages if I wanted to get out of there badly enough. The thing was—I wanted to stay.

“Give me a break.” He hobbled to the king-size bed without looking at me then propped his crutches against the wall before falling back onto the mattress. “You think you can hide in here all by yourself?” He hauled what was left of the lower half of his body onto the bed. A flash of pain crossed his bronzed face. Closing his eyes, he lay back on the striped navy sham. He ran his good hand through spiky hair the same tawny brown as the week-old scruff on his face. “Hit the light on your way out,” he barked.

“Hey, I was here first, and I was just about to rest there. Ellie told me I could.” I smacked a hand over my mouth. “Wait… I’m sorry. That was rude.”

Theo lifted his head off the pillow, squinting from the overhead light. He peered at me in a slow, thorough inspection that left me fighting not to squirm.

“Well, Jake told me I could crash here. Turn off the light and come on.” He patted the bed next to him. “Forgive me—I didn’t notice you’re expecting.” He rolled his eyes.

The breath shot out of my lungs, and I wrapped my arms around my stomach as if I could hide the truth. “Stop looking at me,” I said, making my way to the light switch.

Although he’d draped his tan, muscular arm across his forehead, I sensed his eyes tracking me. I pictured my belly growing with each step, the truth transparent. I switched off the lights. The sun was on the other side of the house, and fading afternoon light glowed in the room. I went back around the bed and paused, not sure I really wanted to get in with this hostile-looking guy who had spent recent years surrounded by sand and weapons.

Theo glared sideways at me. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not about to make a move on some pregnant chick. Either get in or get out—I don’t care.”

My mouth fell open. “Oh… you think I think…” My voice quivered, so I stopped and tried another tactic. “I don’t…” More quivers. I forced out the only response I could manage. “Whatever.” I snatched my heels off the floor, ready to go home.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Theo scrubbed his hand over his face. “Don’t go.” His tone softened. “I shouldn’t be alone right now.” He was giving me those big, puppy-dog eyes, but I could see his smirk.

“What? Now you want me to stay?” No more quivering. The words flowed when the focus was on him. “What’s with you?” I itched to make a run for it, but even so, he intrigued me.

“Cut a guy some slack, will you? My social graces are rusty.”

“Oh, please! I’ve been warned not to give you anything that might resemble sympathy.”

“I don’t want your pity.” A spark flared in his eyes. “Are you always this sassy, or is your condition playing with your hormones?” He had a full-on grin, his white teeth gleaming.

His audacity got the best of me. “Shut up, or I’m going to take your crutches when I leave.”

My threat only made Theo roar with laughter, infuriating me more.

“You’re a
bad
girl, teasing a hurt man. Just get in bed—you look tired. I’ll leave, if you really want me to.”

I gave in because he was right: I was worn out. “No, don’t go.” I dropped my shoes, went to the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in, staying as far away from him as I comfortably could. “Let’s call a truce. I’ll stay over here, you stay over there.” I settled the plush bedding around me and rolled over to face his direction. The visible side of his body was flawless.

“Fine, but you better not snore or I’m going to flatten a pillow over your head.”

I stifled a giggle. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

He jerked his head toward me, eyeing me suspiciously. “What did you expect?”

“I just thought a war hero would be nice.” I yawned.

“I’m not nice enough for you?” His voice, low and smooth, did nothing to hide his amusement.

I relaxed, sinking in the mattress. “No, you’re a total asshole.”

The bed shook with his laughter. “Well, at least you’re honest, but don’t call me a hero.”

I heard the smile in his tone, but my eyes were closed.
I really should have just stayed in bed today
, I thought, drifting off to sleep.

My eyes were open before I realized I was awake. Theo, bathed in moonlight, lay stretched out on top of the covers next to me.

“You don’t have a ring on.” He searched my eyes.

“I gave it back when I cancelled the wedding. Bradley wanted me to keep it…” I looked at my bare hand in the dim room. My ring finger felt naked without the karat-and-a-half, princess-cut diamond. Sometimes I still caught myself rubbing the area, searching for the phantom ring. “But I couldn’t.”

“So what, you didn’t want a shotgun wedding?”

“Wait. Bradley’s not the father.” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth.

His eyes twinkled in the moonlight, and he grinned again.

“So you
are
a bad girl.”

Chapter Two

I
n the days following Theo’s welcome home gathering, I constantly replayed the strange moments we’d spent together. After he’d called me a bad girl for the second time in one night, I’d bolted from the bedroom and called out goodbyes to everyone I passed on my escape to the front door. Sure, I hated what he’d been through, but the way he looked at me, and the way he talked to me, left me raw and exposed.

I had my own problems to sort out. But like a good book I couldn’t put down, I wanted to know more about Theo. What was his story? What was next for him, with his body—his life—forever altered? I thought about interrogating Ellie or Jake, but I didn’t. That would only attract attention to my curiosity. Anyway, I wasn’t sure of my motives. Maybe I needed a mental diversion. Sooner or later our paths would cross again, but I didn’t expect us to gravitate to each other. I certainly didn’t anticipate him being drawn to me.

“I smell bacon.” Steve’s warm voice came from behind me while I was setting up a display in the cooking section of The Book Stack. I snatched a copy of the newly released
Bacontarian Diet
and spun around to face him, catching my hip on the corner of the immense repurposed dining room table.

The sensible part of me held steady, even though I twitched to chuck the book at him and bail. “Check out my Father’s Day gift display.” I kept the book level with my belly. “Doesn’t this cover make you hungry?” I tossed him a bar of bacon-like soap. “That’s what you smell.”

“Soap? Now that’s original. I can stink like bacon all day.” Steve sniffed the bar and scrunched up his nose. “Some things are not meant to be. Think these will sell?” He cocked his head and gave me the inquisitive, younger-brother-by-seven-minutes look that reminded me how thoroughly he trusted me.

My throat tight, I barely hung on to our conversation. “Sure, but not as well as the bacon gum, bacon-flavored toothpicks, bacon Band-Aids…” I tapped the items as I listed them. “Or my personal favorite…” I reached for the little red-and-white rectangular box and shook it. “Bacon jellybeans!”

“Nice ensemble. I never knew such a vast array of porcine novelties existed. I can’t help myself.” Steve took the box of jellybeans, opened it, rattled out a handful of bacony beans then tossed them into his mouth. He studied the label, chewing away while I waited for his verdict.

“Not bad.”

My stomach rumbled loudly enough to catch Steve’s attention. He looked down, and I sidestepped to stand behind a stack of cookbooks.

“You skip lunch again?” His brows pulled together, and I heated under his inspection. He read me too well.

“I’m about to head to The Tavern.” The words rushed from my mouth.

He shook out another handful of jellybeans. “Have a bacon bean,” Steve offered, his mouth full.

I flinched at the smoky whiff of pork on his breath. “I’ll pass. You better pay for those. They’re six dollars a box.”

“Ha! Put it on my tab.” He strolled away, loose limbed, all easy and light. Keeping a secret was bad enough, but keeping a secret from my twin felt like a tumor growing inside. If I told him some of the truth, he’d want to know all of it. And in the details, his heart would break.

The Tavern, located on the opposite corner from The Book Stack, was my go-to place for a quick bite and a reprieve from work. That day, I passed through the big wooden doors and inhaled sharply. The restaurant was packed. Tuesday Night Trivia—always a good time to skip The Tavern. I slipped past the “Wait to be Seated” sign, which didn’t apply to regulars, and shouldered through the crowd to an empty, high-backed booth in the front corner.

My favorite waitress, Karen, spotted me. “Hey, girl! Having the usual?”

“No.” The usual was the healthiest item available: a grilled chicken salad with lite vinaigrette dressing. I smoothed my skirt, wiggling to adjust the bite of fabric sinking into my sides. The last time I had a lapse of self-discipline, I ended up pregnant, so at this point I figured I might as well live a little. Even though I knew the menu by heart, I grabbed one from behind the napkin dispenser. “I’ll have this…” I pointed to the chicken tender salad, justifying that the pile of greens canceled out the fried parts. I flipped the menu over. “Oh, and some of those.” I tapped on the shiny photo of potato skins, and my mouth watered.

“Diet Coke?”

“Lemonade.”

She smiled broadly, jotting down my order. “I can tell it’s one of those days when someone is willing to eat what they’re not willing to say out loud.” My mouth fell open, but she laughed and sauntered away before I could change my order.

The usual was safe. I should’ve stuck with the usual.

With my back to the windows, I sat facing the crowd of people stopping in on their way home from work. The Maroon 5 song was loud, but the talk was louder. Stools circled the restaurant’s high-top tables, and booths lined its main walls. In the heart of the room, beneath stained-glass lights, an oblong bar pulsed with human activity.

In a precise row sat five men, dressed casually in cotton clothes in tans, grays, and greens. They were well built, well groomed, and well received by the flock of women huddled around them. Although not in uniform, the fit and handsome group had the look of military. But in their current location, they stood out in an ocean of black and navy wool-blend suits, starched white shirts, and colorful silk ties loosened just a tad.