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An Officer And Her Gentleman
Amy Woods


LOVE ON FOUR PAWSReadjusting to civilian life has been a struggle for former Army medic Avery Abbott. Back home for two years now, she still struggles with her worsening PTSD. And then a shaggy mutt named Foggy – and handsome dog trainer Isaac Meyer – change everything.From the moment Isaac finds beautiful Avery, scared and shaking on a rural country road, he feels a connection he can’t explain. Isaac vows to help her rebuild her life. What he doesn’t expect is that the sensitive veteran he has rescued is going to rescue his own heart right back…







“And are you now?” Avery asked, her light blond eyebrows furrowed.

“Am I what?”

“You know,” she said, as if he held the key to some mystery she didn’t quite dare talk about. “Happy.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her, thinking in silence for a moment, lost in the blue-gray storm clouds in her eyes.

“That’s a complicated question, isn’t it?”

“Not particularly,” she challenged, a twinge of sorrow in her voice.

“Well, then, perhaps it’s the answer that’s complicated.”

“Yes, maybe so, but I still want to know—are you happy, Isaac Meyer?”

In her question, Isaac sensed she was really asking something else—something along the lines of was it possible that she’d ever be happy again?—and he wanted, badly, for her to believe that, yes, she could be. Yes, despite everything that had happened to her, despite all the evil he could assume she’d witnessed, she could indeed find happiness again …

* * *

Peach Leaf, Texas: Where true love blooms


An Officer and Her Gentleman

Amy Woods




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


AMY WOODS took the scenic route to becoming an author. She’s been a bookkeeper, a high school English teacher and a claims specialist, but now that she makes up stories for a living, she’s never giving it up. She grew up in Austin, Texas, and lives there with her wonderfully goofy, supportive husband and a spoiled rescue dog. Amy can be reached on Facebook, Twitter and her website, www.amywoodsbooks.com (http://www.amywoodsbooks.com).


For Mason Dixon, US Navy, with love and respect.

And to Renee Senn, LCSW, for her generous help with research. Any errors are mine.


Contents

Cover (#uc8677590-9e6a-590b-889f-2f8147ba12ef)

Introduction (#u434a10ee-769f-5788-8e6c-895430d737fe)

Title Page (#u012898c9-d187-58bf-bf79-747ae2669dff)

About the Author (#ub1fa3135-3661-5a1d-b2ec-7a5c844468e9)

Dedication (#u6778ae2c-a381-5201-b1d7-006a01cad007)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u9bc9e2c7-cb80-59b4-a2bb-32f58adca267)

A blast rang out in the still night air, rattling windows and setting off the bark alarm of every canine within a mile radius.

In a small guest room of her younger brother’s ranch-style home, Avery Abbott’s eyes shot open as she was ripped suddenly from what had passed as sleep for the past few months—a shallow, daydream-like consciousness that really didn’t qualify as true rest.

Pulse thumping against her temples, Avery kicked her legs free from tangled sheets and fumbled in the darkness for the baseball bat she kept nearby, cursing when her fingers didn’t grasp it immediately. Her nerves had always been her biggest weakness during army basic training. Even the tiniest spark of fear or anxiety could transform her otherwise capable hands into jelly. The slightest hesitation or worry over a possible imperfection had the potential to eradicate months of training in an instant, leaving Avery, who was at the top of her class, one of only a handful of females in a company dominated by males, frozen and utterly useless. It hadn’t happened often during her service, but the occasion it did stood out in her memory, far above her many accomplishments.

Seconds, Abbott—her sergeant’s voice boomed through her brain as Avery finally gripped solid material and held it poised—seconds mean the difference between the life and death of your comrades.

As she made her way from her room into the hallway, through the house and out the front door into a thick darkness punctuated by only a thin sliver of light from the waning crescent moon, her nightmare blended seamlessly with reality.

Her brother’s small farmhouse and the old red barn disappeared as Avery stalked the grounds, weapon firm and steady against her side, its material solid and reliable in her grip, searching for the source of the noise that had awoken her and threatened the safety of her fellow soldiers.

When the flashback gripped Avery, it was no longer cool, wheat-colored, late-autumn grass her bare feet plodded through, but the warm desert sand of a country in which she’d served three tours.

She wasn’t safe at home in Peach Leaf, Texas, anymore, but a stranger in a foreign land, her vulnerability evident in every accented word she spoke, in her uniform, in the caution she knew flickered behind her eyes each time she faced a potential enemy.

She would be okay, she thought, pacing the too-quiet darkness, so long as she didn’t run into any kids.

The women and children were the worst part of combat. You never knew whose thumb they were under, who controlled their futures...who’d robbed them of their innocence, threatened their families if met with anything but obedience, and turned them into soldiers to be sacrificed without a choice.

Regardless of where their loyalties were planted, they were children... It didn’t make sense to hold them responsible for their misguided actions.

Avery wanted to bring the many homeless ones back with her when she returned to the US. She had something in common with them. She knew what it was like to be an orphan, to feel alone in the world, unprotected.

Once, before she’d been adopted by a loving couple, the birth parents of her brother, Tommy, Avery, too, had known firsthand what it was to be without a family.

But that was a long time ago, and now she needed to focus on the threat at hand. Still holding her weapon, she used her forearm to brush a strand of long blond hair out of her eyes. When she’d tumbled from bed, she hadn’t time to twist her hair into its customary bun. There was only room in her brain for one objective: locate and—if necessary—eradicate the cause of the blast.

She paced silently through the muggy night air, the blanket of darkness hiding any detail so that all she could see were the shapes of unfamiliar objects.

In her mind, it was her first week in Afghanistan, and she was afraid.

Despite extensive predeployment training, nothing could have prepared her for what it would feel like to be hunted. She knew she shouldn’t be outside of her bunker alone, but evidently no one else had heard the explosion, and for all she knew her team could be in danger at that very moment.

So First Lieutenant Avery Abbott pressed on through the black night, searching, searching, searching.

* * *

Isaac Meyer was humming along to the local country music station when a rear tire blew out just a quarter mile away from home, causing his truck to skid into a ditch on the side of the road.

Only seconds passed before he got it under control and pulled to a stop, but they felt like hours.

“You okay, girl?” he asked his backseat passenger, still trying to deep breathe his way back to a normal heart rate. His palms were shaking and slick with sweat despite feeling like ice, and his brain was still too rattled to discern whether or not he was okay. But he needed to know if his best friend was all right before he made a single move.

He turned and still couldn’t see her. Then Jane gave an uncharacteristically high-pitched woof from the seat directly behind him, letting Isaac know she was startled, but the absence of any cries of pain settled his stomach a little, and a second later her sandpaper tongue swept along his elbow.

Isaac heaved a sigh of relief and unbuckled his seat belt before getting out of the truck to check on his companion.

As soon as he moved up his seat to let her out, Jane bounded straight into his arms and both dog and human crashed to the ground in a heap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Isaac said, stroking Janie’s coat and feeling her limbs and ribs for any injuries. “I sure am glad you’re not hurt.”

His statement was conservative. They were damn lucky to be okay. After all, it was pitch dark on the gravel country road to his ranch house; even with his bright headlights on, they could have hit just about anything swerving into that ditch. Not to mention they’d have to walk home now, and Isaac was bone tired after a long day on his feet at work. All he wanted was a cold beer and his bed. He could only imagine that Jane, who’d worked just as hard as he had training a new puppy for a recently returned veteran, felt the same.

“All right, girl,” Isaac said, attaching Jane’s leash to her collar. “Let me just grab my stuff from the truck and we’ll head home the old-fashioned way.”

He’d only gotten as far as reaching into the cab before Jane erupted into a low growl, followed by loud, staccato warning barks.

A tingle of apprehension fluttered up Isaac’s spine and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.

Jane wasn’t the sort to cry wolf; she wouldn’t give a warning unless she’d seen, heard or smelled something beyond the range of Isaac’s senses.

“What is it, girl?” he whispered, turning to peer into the curtain of trees on the other side of the ditch while reaching under the driver’s seat of his truck for the hunting knife he kept there. Jane would have to be his eyes and ears. He couldn’t see squat with everything obscured by the thick darkness.

The dog let out another growl and raised her hackles.

Finally, Isaac caught sight of something moving in the blackness. He squinted, trying to see a little better, as a shadowy form emerged from along the tree line. His instinct was to simply shout out a greeting. This was Peach Leaf, after all. The idea of a prowler out on the lonely ranch road leading to his home was almost laughable. But until he got a better look at whatever or whoever was traipsing through the night, he’d be wise to assume the worst.

Suddenly, the figure—almost certainly human, he could now tell—crouched down low and crawled quickly toward the ditch. Jane barked furiously at this new development and tugged at her leash to be set free so she could investigate. But a threat to Isaac was a threat to her, so he called her to his side and patted the truck seat. Jane gave a whimper of protest but obeyed, jumping up into the cab. Isaac quickly rolled down the window an inch and locked the door, pocketing his keys and knife.

He expected more movement from the ditch, but all remained still. Part of him knew it wasn’t too bright to follow up on whatever or whomever lay there in the dirt, but he didn’t have much of a choice. If he and Jane headed off down the road toward home, whatever it was might follow, and he’d rather deal with it now than have to look over his shoulder on his way back to the house or potentially deal with a break-in later in the night. On the other hand, it could be some runaway kid, lost or potentially hurt, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if he might have been able to help one of his community members.

He realized he’d been standing still while he thought this through, but that settled it, so he grabbed his cell phone from his back pocket and turned on the flashlight app. The low-battery warning flashed across the screen a second later and Isaac cursed under his breath.

He told Jane he’d be right back and climbed up out of their place in the ditch so he could walk along the edge. That way, he’d have the upper hand once he made it to wherever it was, and if Jane started barking again, he could run right back to the truck.

He stepped slowly, holding the light out in front of him until he spotted a dark lump, stopping abruptly to get a better look.

“What the—” he murmured, powerless to make sense of what he saw until it moved, which didn’t help at all as things only became less clear.

The thing was a woman, Isaac realized.

For a full minute, he simply stood there, unable to pick up his suddenly leaden feet. His heart might have kicked up its pace again at the sight of her, if it hadn’t already tumbled down into his stomach.

Being the youngest child, and still single, despite the town’s many ill-advised attempts to remedy that situation, Isaac had never had anyone to protect. He had Jane, of course, but the spitfire dog who’d landed on his doorstep a few years back, demanding a home, had always done a damn good job of looking out for herself—and now she lived in the lap of luxury, spoiled beyond belief by her human.

But he’d never really experienced that protective instinct, had never known the feeling that another person relied on him for safety.

Until now.

For some reason—as he stared down into that ditch at the pathetically thin, shaking woman curled into a ball there—a fierce burning sensation flooded his insides.

He didn’t know who she was, or what in the hell she was doing there, but somehow something outside of him pulled Isaac toward her.

Somehow, he knew she needed him.

* * *

When the flashback subsided and Avery finally came to, she had no earthly idea where she was.

This wasn’t the first time it had happened.

It wouldn’t be the last.

She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, but, as usual, the terrible shaking wouldn’t cease. The air around her was humid, and a warm spring breeze rustled through some nearby trees every now and then, but inside Avery was freezing, even as sweat rolled down her arms.

Too-skinny arms, Tommy would say. She was thankful every day that he’d let her live in his house when things had become...too much...but sometimes his constant concern for her—the endless checking up to see if she was okay—was another kind of too much.

“Ma’am?”

The male voice came from somewhere above her head and, within seconds, Avery had uncurled from her position and bolted upright to face its owner.

The last time she’d had an episode, her sister-in-law, Macy, had found Avery in Sylvia’s room. That was plenty awkward, especially when the two women had to work out how to explain to Avery’s five-year-old niece why her aunt was crouched, armed, in the child’s bedroom closet.

That was when her brother insisted they clear the house of anything “dangerous” she might end up wielding in self-defense when one of the flashbacks hit. He didn’t know about the baseball bat she kept hidden under her bed in case she needed to protect her family.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Tommy had said in the same sotto voce he used with his children, while refusing to meet her eyes. “We just can’t risk anything happening. It’s for the best.”

Avery’s stomach churned at the memory. The worst part was, her brother was absolutely correct. If she’d had anywhere else to go after that, she would have. But she did not. And, worse, she was completely dependent on the few remaining people in her life—the few that hadn’t given up on her—for everything.

But that was the last time.

This time, from what little she could deduce in a quick survey of her surroundings, might just turn out to be downright humiliating.

He spoke again. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked. “Are you lost?”

Avery almost grinned at that last part, because yes, indeed, she was very, very lost.

The only thing that stopped her was the tone of the man’s voice. Glancing around, she could see that she was completely alone in some dirt hole on the side of a gravel country road, in—she looked down at her body—a thin white tank and army-issue workout shorts. Clearly she was at the mercy of this guy, who’d evidently stopped to check on her. Under other circumstances, her training would have kicked in and she’d have flipped him onto his back in mere seconds.

But something told her he wasn’t a threat.

His voice.

It was deep and smooth, his words bathed in the local accent, and full of genuine concern. On top of that, he stood above the ditch staring down at her, hands at his sides, and hadn’t made a single move to come closer. The man seemed...safe.

Having lost her bat somewhere along the way, she braced herself for an attack when he bent his knees, but instead of jumping into the ditch with her like she thought he might, the man simply knelt down.

The movement brought attention to long, muscled thighs beneath faded denim jeans, and when he leaned an elbow on his upright knee, Avery noticed the stretch of tendons in his sinewy forearms.

How ridiculous it was, she thought, for her to notice such a stupid thing when her life could be in danger for all she knew. Seeing as how the guy hadn’t mauled her by now, it probably wasn’t, but still—it could be.

Avery crossed her arms over her thinly clad chest. Not that there was much to see there. Not anymore.

“I’m fine, actually. Just...taking a walk. Enjoying the stars and all.” She waved a hand above her, indicating the spread of twinkling lights above them. It was plausible.

But when she looked up into his eyes, she could tell he didn’t agree. The man looked to be somewhere near her own age, maybe slightly older, and Avery was surprised she’d never seen him before. She’d grown up in Peach Leaf and knew just about everybody, so it was strange that she hadn’t met this person.

Sure as hell would remember if she had.

Not only did he have the toned body of someone who either worked at it or had a very active job—he had a face to do it justice. Clear, dark chocolate eyes—eyes that had a certain glint in them, as though they saw more than most—a strong jaw and hair the color of a panther’s coat.

Right now those brown eyes narrowed with what appeared to be strong suspicion, but after a few seconds, they filled with a certain kind of warmth Avery wasn’t used to seeing anymore.

Pity—she was used to that—but not warmth.

“It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he said, seeming to relax a little.

There was something easy about him that made Avery want to let her guard down a smidge. It was almost as if his mere presence lowered her blood pressure.

“That it is,” she agreed, wanting the strange exchange to be over so she could figure out how far she’d gotten and how, for the love of all things holy, she was supposed to get back home.

“Name’s Isaac,” the man said, stretching out a large hand.

Even in the dark, Avery could see calluses and healed-over scratches. Must be some kind of laborer.

She just stared at him, not offering her name, willing him to take his leave. It would be futile to try to explain the complexities of her condition, as she’d come to think of it, to this handsome stranger. She didn’t even completely understand it herself, even after almost a year of therapy. Besides, her knees were beginning to feel a little wobbly and a spot just above her left temple had started to ache...

“Well, if you’re all set here—” he looked like he believed her to be anything but “—I’ve got a walk ahead of me.”

Isaac hesitated for a long moment, then nodded and turned to leave.

Avery was about to do the same when everything went blacker than the night sky.

* * *

Isaac had just started back toward his truck—every nerve in his body telling him to stay behind—when he heard a thud.

He whipped back around and broke into a run when he saw that the woman had collapsed in a heap, dust billowing around her.

Crap.

He knew he should have stayed put and tried to talk her into letting him help. It didn’t take a genius to see she was in some kind of trouble.

Walking even a few yards away from her had gone against his every instinct, but he hadn’t planned to actually leave her alone in the middle of the night, not for a single moment. He just needed a second to regroup.

His legs made quick work of the distance that separated them and seconds later he plunged into the ditch and reached her side, lifting the woman’s negligible weight into his arms and propping her up so she might draw in deeper breaths. Her skin was clammy and she seemed to flutter on the verge of consciousness as she pulled in shallow doses of air.

Isaac had no idea what steps to take from there; as a certified dog trainer, he was generally better prepared for canine emergencies than those of his own species. His heart beat frantically for several long minutes as he held her, waiting for her to come back so he could better help her. As slow seconds beat past, he studied the woman in his grasp, seeing for the first time how lovely she was.

Her long blond hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, its corn-silk strands tickling his arms where it fell. Creamy skin, just a shade or two lighter than her hair, lay like soft linen over sculpted cheekbones, creating a perfect canvas for full lips and large eyes, the color of which he suddenly longed to know.

She wore a white T-shirt and athletic shorts, and Isaac grimaced when he caught sight of the sharp ridge of collarbone peeking out the top of the threadbare cotton. She was so very thin. No wonder lifting her had felt no more difficult than picking up Jane. A glint of metal got his attention and he reached up to search for a pendant attached to a silver chain around her neck, adjusting her so he could remain supporting her with one arm.

Running his finger along the tiny links, Isaac finally touched an ID tag of some sort and pulled it closer to his face.

It was an army-issue dog tag; he’d recognize it anywhere because of his brother, Stephen, and working with so many veterans and their companions at his dog training facility. This one was engraved A. Abbott.

Somehow seeing her name made him even more impatient to wake her up. He knew nothing about the pretty woman, except that she looked like she could stand to eat a quarter pounder or two, but something about her pulled him in and wouldn’t let go.

His buddies would’ve teased him relentlessly if they could have seen him then. Meyer can’t resist a damsel in distress, he could almost hear them say, joshing at his tendency to offer assistance to every granny who chanced to cross a street in Peach Leaf or any single mom who needed the use of his truck for a move.

But this one was different.

Before she’d tumbled to the ground, Isaac had seen enough to know that Abbott was no damsel in distress. Her voice had been tough—commanding, almost—and, despite her smallness, she’d stood tall and carried herself with authority and confidence. It was her body that had finally lost its resolve—no doubt, from the look of things, due to not eating enough—not her mind or her survival instinct.

Now that he’d seen the tag, he understood why.

Now that he’d seen the tag, he’d also begun to form an idea of what might have happened to her and, more important, how he might be able to help.


Chapter Two (#u9bc9e2c7-cb80-59b4-a2bb-32f58adca267)

Avery woke for the second time that night about an hour later.

For a moment, forgetting the strange dreamlike events of the night, she thought she might be back at home safe in her bed while Tommy and Macy cooked breakfast for her niece and nephew.

But when Avery sat up and opened her eyes, a rush of panic hit her like a bucket of ice water and she shot up from an unfamiliar couch, gasping for breath as she fully realized that she had no idea where she was.

Again.

A hand-knit afghan in alternating tones of light and dark blues tumbled to the floor, covering her feet, and as her eyes adjusted to the golden light coming from a nearby table lamp, Avery glanced briefly around the room. It was minimally decorated but cozy, and she wondered at the comfort it provided despite its newness to her.

“Easy there,” a low voice came from behind the sofa and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Avery put up her fists and turned around in one quick motion, ready to face whatever situation her unpredictable, unreliable mind had gotten her into now.

“Who are you, and where the hell am I?” she spat out, willing her voice to mask the fear that was quickly weaving its way from her gut to her chest.

The nightmares were bad enough, but the flashbacks, rarer though they were, absolutely terrified her. This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in a place from which she couldn’t retrace her steps. If it happened on too many more occasions, she didn’t even want to think about the action her family and therapist might agree on against her will. She’d already lost her job and her own place. The thought of being locked up somewhere...

The man in front of her gently placed the cell phone he’d been holding on a small end table, immediately holding up both of his hands. She vaguely recalled his handsome face as a tiny slice of memory slipped from the recesses of her mind, but it vanished before she could catch it, leaving her with nothing helpful.

“My name’s Isaac. Isaac Meyer. I’m not gonna hurt you. And obviously you don’t remember—you were pretty out of it—but we did meet earlier.” A Southern accent similar to her own slid over the man’s words like hot gravy, identifying him as a local.

“Avery,” she murmured.

He stood completely still as Avery looked him up and down, her soldier’s instincts and peripheral vision checking every inch of his person, even as her eyes remained steadily locked on to his. They were a rich brown, she noticed, instantly chastising herself for wasting time on such a silly thought when she faced a potential enemy.

When Avery didn’t speak for a long moment, he continued.

“Look, I know this has been a strange night, at least for me, but—” He hesitated and seemed to be working through his thoughts before speaking. “I found you on the side of the road. In a ditch. Jane and I didn’t know what to do and there wasn’t a damn thing could be done to help you out there in the dark, so we brought you back here.”

He lowered one hand, slowly and cautiously as if trying not to unsettle a rabid animal, and pointed toward the phone before putting his hand back up. “I was just about to call 9-1-1 and see about getting someone out here to check on you. Then you woke up and, well, here we are.”

Avery had no recollection of meeting him earlier, only his word to go on and the vague, déjà vu–like inkling that she’d seen him before. The past few hours were as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. In all he’d said, only one insignificant thing stuck out to her. That seemed the way of it lately. If she couldn’t focus on everything, she picked out the smallest bit and used that to ground her in reality. It was one of the few things her therapist had taught her that she’d actually practiced.

“Jane? Who’s Jane?” she asked, wondering, of all things, why that particular piece of information mattered.

At the mention of the name, Isaac’s features noticeably softened and Avery let her body do likewise, relaxing a little as she checked off facts in her head. One—if he’d a mind to, he could have murdered her already. Two—the man had placed a homemade blanket on her, for goodness’ sake. What murderer did such a thing? And three—if he was to be believed, and there was no clear indication why he shouldn’t at this point, as she was standing there unharmed in his comfortable home, he’d been about to call for help, something she absolutely did not want him to do. Thank goodness she’d woken up in time to prevent that from happening. The very last thing she needed right now was for Tommy or her parents to have another reason to worry about her. Of all the things she hated about her PTSD, perhaps the worst was the way it had turned a grown, successful woman into a child, or at least that’s how her family saw her.

She had to get back home as soon as possible, but first, she needed to find out exactly how far her deceitful mind had dragged her this time.

She waited for an answer to her question but instead of providing one, Isaac gave a sharp whistle and a large dog of an unidentifiable breed, with an unruly coat consisting of about a hundred varying shades of brown, strolled into the room to sit beside him, looking up at its human with what could only be described as pure adoration. Man looked down at dog with open pride.

“Avery, meet Jane,” he said, then gave the canine some sort of hand signal.

Before she could protest, the dog was standing in front of her. She watched, unmoving, as Jane reached out a large, fuzzy paw and stared expectantly up at her with huge brown eyes. The whole thing was so absurdly cute that Avery couldn’t keep a smile from curving at the edge of her lips. Noticing for the first time that she still held her fists defensively in front of her, Avery lowered both hands and reached one out to grasp the offered paw. The warm, soft fur was instantly soothing, but when Jane took back her paw and pressed her large, heavy head against Avery’s thighs, her tail breaking into a slow wag as she waited for her doggie hug to be reciprocated, Avery’s heart caught in her throat.

A wave of emotion swept over her like an evening tide and her knees nearly buckled beneath her. She was suddenly, desperately sad. And oh-so-tired. Tired of being dependent on others to keep her safe when she’d once been so self-reliant. Tired of being locked inside her own head. Tired of being afraid to go to sleep, knowing the nightmares would meet her there like a mugger waiting in the shade of night for his next victim, and tired of feeling crazy when she knew—even if everyone else believed otherwise—that she was not.

She gently pushed the dog away and sat down on the sofa. Jane jumped up, too, but sat a few feet away, as if giving Avery her space. Isaac moved across the room to sit in a chair on the other side of a mahogany coffee table. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at the floor. Avery knew she should keep an eye on him until she could get out of there but her lids felt weighted and she let them slip closed for just a second as she gathered her thoughts.

“How long was I out?” she asked, swallowing, not really wanting to know the answer. Her flashbacks, blackouts, whatever the hell they were, sometimes lasted for hours before she came back around. She hated the loss of control and the resulting feeling of irresponsibility, as though she’d had too much to drink and passed out at the wheel.

She looked up at Isaac, meeting his eyes. In them, she found none of the things she’d expected: pity, irritation, confusion. Instead, they were like deep woods in the middle of the night—quiet, dark, mysterious—but for some reason, she felt safe there. She knew enough to sense menace when it lurked, and so she knew then as sure as she knew her own name and rank that this man was not dangerous.

“About an hour,” he said, his voice smooth like strong coffee. “Took me half of that to get you here. My truck broke down just up the road and my cell had almost no charge left. You were pretty cold when Jane and I got you inside the house, so I covered you with a blanket and plugged in the phone for ten minutes or so. You didn’t seem wounded or anything, but it’s not every day I find people prowling around in the dark, so I figured best thing to do was call the authorities and let them make sure you’re okay and sort you out.”

Isaac paused, brow furrowed, and it seemed he might say more, but then he closed his mouth and looked at her expectantly.

She sifted through his comments, appreciating his effort and the fact that, other than to carry her, he hadn’t handled her any more than necessary; in fact, he seemed wary of being anywhere near her—a thought that touched her heart with the gentlemanliness it bespoke. His simple, strong kindness reminded her of some of the men she’d served alongside, and for a fleeting moment, she missed her comrades.

There had been a time, not that long after returning home, when she would have done anything to forget her tours overseas if it would have helped her blend back in to civilian society. But after being back in Peach Leaf for a few months, newly burdened with the knowledge that such a wish might never come true, she’d begun to long for another deployment, if only for the fact that she didn’t know how to be “normal” anymore, whatever that meant. She didn’t belong in her own world, and she hadn’t truly belonged in that barren, violence-riddled land, so the question was, as always: Where, if anywhere, did she belong?

“You could have left me there, you know,” Avery said. “I didn’t need any help.” The words sounded hollow and impractical even as she spoke them.

“We both know that’s not true,” he answered, his tone thankfully free of judgment.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself to a complete stranger. Even a kind, gentle, admittedly handsome stranger.

“All the same, though,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk home on your own and, as I said, my truck’s out of commission for the night. Is there anyone you can call to—”

“No!” she shouted as her body simultaneously lurched forward a few feet, startling them both. She covered her mouth with her hand, the skin icy against her warm lips.

“Look, if you’re in some kind of dicey situation, it ain’t any of my business, but I can’t let you stay out here alone in the dark, either.

She shook her head and lowered her hand, clasping it between her knees. “No, no, it’s not like that. I’m not... I mean... I just have these episodes sometimes, and occasionally I lose track of where I am.” She stopped abruptly, not really knowing what else to say but thankfully, he didn’t seem to expect much more. Trying to put her problems into words was always a fragile balancing act of saying too little or too much. Even though they appreciated her service, she’d quickly discovered that most people would rather not think or talk about the things that Avery had experienced, and it was hard to describe something she herself didn’t fully understand.

Isaac swallowed and held out his hands, palms up. His face was difficult to read but not hardened, and his expression gave her the idea that he was genuinely waiting to hear what she had to say, who she was, before making his mind up about her. It was refreshing. In her small town, Avery was used to people thinking they knew everything about each other just because they’d racked up some years together in the same place. They made the frequent mistake of assuming that you’d always be who you once were.

“Speaking of,” she went on, struggling to hide her sudden embarrassment at having to ask, “would you mind telling me where we are?”

Isaac’s lids lowered and his mouth relaxed into an easy grin, as if he’d been waiting for her to ask so he could have something helpful to offer. “Sure thing. We’re about two miles outside of Peach Leaf proper, and my house is about half a mile from Ranch Road 64. Closest landmark is Dewberry Farms, my neighbor.”

His neighbor. Her brother.

Avery released an audible sigh of relief that she hadn’t wandered too far from home in her—she looked down, suddenly aware of the goose bumps that had formed a tiny mountain range along her arms—very thin pajamas. Thank goodness she’d been unable to shed the habit of sleeping in her sports bra or she’d have been sitting in a stranger’s living room without a shred of modesty.

“Dewberry is my home, at least for now,” she said, and Isaac nodded, seeming unsurprised. He probably knew her recent history as well as any of the other locals. It said a lot about his character that he wasn’t acting as though that meant he knew her.

“Well, as you know, it’s not far from here. I think I feel well enough to walk back now. If I don’t make it home before everyone wakes up, they’ll be worried, so—” she pointed a thumb in the general direction of the front door “—I should probably get going.”

Isaac held out a hand as she stood. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” She rolled her eyes almost immediately, sitting back down as the inside of her head did another dizzy spin. “I mean, I know why not, but how is it any of your business? I appreciate you helping me, but I’m okay now.”

Isaac shook his head. “For one thing, you’re pale as a ghost, and let’s not forget you were passed out for a solid hour. Plus, pardon my saying so, but you look like you could use some energy if you’re going to walk a half mile, which, for the record, I’d recommend putting off until the sun comes up.”

Avery bit her lip, considering. Everything he said was absolutely right, but she couldn’t risk letting Tommy or Macy find her bed empty again. She wouldn’t put them through that worry another time.

Her brother and sister-in-law had already given her a place to stay and a hell of a lot of support through the lowest point in her life so far, for which she’d never be able to repay them. They said they were glad to do it and they meant well, but Avery wasn’t naive, and she wasn’t blind; she could see the way they looked at her when they insisted she was no imposition, as if they weren’t sure what she might do next, or worse, how her involuntary actions might affect their kids. She could see the way they walked on eggshells around her. The familiar guilt made her empty stomach clench in pain.

She sat back down on the sofa and Jane thumped her tail against the worn fabric. Avery reached over to pet the dog’s soft fur, surprised once again at how comforting it was just to stroke Jane’s broad back. When she gave Jane a few scratches behind her enormous, fuzzy ears and the scruffy mutt closed her eyes in bliss, Avery was pretty sure she’d made a friend for life.

“It makes me feel so calm, petting her.” Avery was surprised to hear herself state the thought out loud, but the combination of the kind stranger’s presence and the silky sensation of the dog’s warm coat made her feel more at ease than she had since she’d been home.

“She tends to have that effect on people. Lots of dogs do,” he said.

Avery looked up to find Isaac beaming with pride, and she noticed again how good-looking he was, in such a different way than the men she’d been attracted to before. His features were less sharp than the square-jawed, light-featured military types she usually preferred. His hair was collar length, wavy and dark, almost black, in the soft glow of lamplight flooding the living room, and his eyes were nearly the same shade of brown. He reminded her of a rakish lord from one of the historical romances she devoured at an incredible pace, one of the few pastimes that allowed her to completely escape the bleak hollows of her own thoughts.

It wouldn’t be inaccurate to describe him as devilishly handsome, she thought, a smile blossoming over her lips before she caught herself and bit the bottom one.

He caught her smiling and she pretended to study Jane’s fur, the heat of a blush rushing to her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt drawn to someone that way, much less blushed over a man, for goodness’ sake. She’d had a few boyfriends before her first deployment, but it always seemed sort of futile to get into something serious when she’d been on active duty, never knowing when she might have to pack up and leave at last-minute notice. Sure, lots of people made it work, as her mother constantly reminded her, probably with visions of more grandbabies dancing through her head, but Avery had seen enough hurt in that area to last a lifetime.

She swallowed against the dull ache that rose in her heart every time the memory of her best friend crossed her mind, at least a thousand times per day—her punishment for being alive when Sophie was not. Sophie, who’d left behind a husband and child who blamed Avery for Sophie’s absence in their lives. It didn’t matter whether it had been Avery’s fault or not—the center of their world was gone, and Avery had been the last one to see her.

It was Avery who’d promised them she’d watch over their wife and mother, and it was Avery who failed to keep that promise.

She felt Isaac’s eyes on her and looked up to meet them.

“You’re right about it not being a good idea to walk back in the dark,” she admitted. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stick around until the sun comes up, then I’ll head back that way.”

If Isaac’s house was as close to Tommy’s as he’d said, it would take her less than ten minutes to jog back at daybreak, and she could slip in the back door and make it into her bed before anyone tried to wake her. Tommy would be making coffee and Macy would be busy with the kids.

He nodded. “Not a problem. If you passed Jane’s character test, then you’re welcome to stick around as long as you need to,” he said, his tone lighter now. “On one condition.”

Avery stopped petting Jane and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Let me cook something for you.”


Chapter Three (#u9bc9e2c7-cb80-59b4-a2bb-32f58adca267)

As he waited for her answer, Isaac glanced at the grandfather clock near the hallway, one of the many things he’d been unable to part with when Nana had willed the old ranch-style home to him a couple of years ago. Its iron hands indicated the hour was near two o’clock in the morning.

They had plenty of time for a bite before daylight when Avery would leave and go back to Dewberry—a thought that, had he more time to entertain, he might have admitted he didn’t much care for. He liked the quiet comfort and surrounding memories of the house he’d spent so many happy summers in as a child, and most of the time he was okay with the fact that he lived in the country and didn’t entertain a lot of visitors, but there were times when he got lonely. Even though Jane was one hell of a listener, she didn’t do much in the way of talking.

It was nice to have a woman in his home. He liked the way Avery’s presence added a certain softness to the atmosphere, and he found himself caring whether or not she liked the place.

“I’m not really very hungry,” she answered, earning a pointed look from him.

“Come on, now. I’m a very good cook. I’m famous for my barbecue, but I can make a mean sandwich in a pinch. Seriously, call your brother and ask him,” Isaac joked, regretting the words when he saw they’d caused her to wince. Tommy had mentioned, of course, that he had a sister who’d recently come home after a few tours in Afghanistan, but since they’d never been introduced or run into each other anywhere in town—which was odd in itself—Isaac hadn’t given much thought to the mysterious female Abbott. He and Tommy crossed paths frequently, as the farm always provided food for the events Isaac hosted on behalf of his dog training center, Friends with Fur, but he’d never once seen Avery.

He wouldn’t have forgotten her if he had.

The locals talked about her enough; they all had theories about how she might be doing now that she was back, what kind of girl she’d been growing up and—these comments were always in hushed tones accented with the sympathetic clicking of tongues—how she wasn’t quite right anymore, bless her heart. But in Isaac’s line of work, he’d learned to withhold judgment until he got to know someone.

And he knew that when broken people kept to themselves, holed up behind walls built to keep out hurt, eventually their family and friends, even the closest ones, stopped asking the hard questions and accepted the new, hollow versions, forgetting that at one time those wounded people were whole.

He got up from his chair and moved toward the couch to scratch Janie’s pink tummy, which she’d shamelessly turned over and exposed so that Avery could have the esteemed privilege of rubbing it.

He raised his eyes and watched as Avery pet Jane, admiring the way the dog’s gentle serenity seemed to seep into the woman’s weary bones.

“Tell you what—I had a long day and I’m hungry, so I’m going to start up a grilled cheese sandwich.” He watched Avery for any change in her expression, but her features remained still. “You’re welcome to join me if you want to, and I’d be happy to make two.”

She raised her eyes then and he was reminded of how blue they were, like shadowy mountaintops at dusk.

“I wasn’t always like this, you know,” Avery said, her voice so quiet he wasn’t sure the words were meant for him to hear.

Even though her gaze was on his, Isaac could tell her thoughts were far off somewhere he couldn’t reach. He’d seen the same look on many of the veterans he worked with at the training facility, and he’d learned not to push too hard. Sometimes it was best to stay silent and let the person decide how much he or she wanted to say or not say.

“I used to be strong. Independent.” She glanced away. “I can’t tell you how humiliating it is to be sitting here in your house, having to trust your word on how I got here.”

Isaac’s insides ached at her admission and he had the sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to.

He’d always had an easier time relating to canines than to his own kind, a product of being homeschooled by a widowed young mom who’d been overwhelmed by the world outside their door, with only his older brother and a series of family pets to keep him company. He would never complain about his childhood. After all, it had been safer and saner than many of his friends’ and colleagues’, but it had also been lonely.

Ever since he’d moved away briefly for college and then come home to start a business, Isaac had longed for a family of his own. He wanted life to be much different from the way he’d been raised; he wanted kiddos running around shouting happily, dogs barking joyfully and, above all, lots and lots of laughter.

Most people wanted quiet when they came home at the end of a long workday, he thought with a chuckle, but Isaac craved noise.

He wasn’t sure what he could say, but he gave it a try anyway. “I know I don’t know you, so my saying so doesn’t mean much, but you have nothing to be embarrassed by.”

He looked up in time to see Avery shaking her head, but he went on, sharing things he rarely got a chance to. “You served your country with honor, and I can bet you dealt with a lot of things no one should ever have to, but that doesn’t mean you’re different than any other human being. People aren’t meant to be around the things I’m sure you were, and come out the same on the other side. War is bound to do some damage to a person’s soul. I don’t think anyone expects you to come back and pick up where you left off without a few hurdles to jump.”

Avery closed her eyes and then opened them slowly, regarding him with an expression he couldn’t read.

“Sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what they expect.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” he responded. “And I think that’s just a product of not really being able to understand what you went through over there.”

Not wanting to say anything that would make Avery uncomfortable, that would make her retreat back into her shell, Isaac gave Jane one final pat and then headed off to the kitchen.

He’d pulled cheese and butter out of the fridge and was opening a wooden bread box when he heard her soft footsteps behind him. He tossed a welcome grin over his shoulder, pleased when he noticed that she wasn’t alone. Jane, his big, goofy sweetheart, had followed Avery and was glued to her side. It was one of the characteristics he loved most about dogs. They were quick to make friends.

“How are you so wise about this stuff?” Avery asked, giving him a sad little smile. “Did you serve, as well?”

He shook his head. “No, but in my work, I meet a lot of people who did, and I’ve learned a few things along the way.” He bit back the urge to mention the brother he’d lost; talking about what happened to Stephen would likely be unhelpful at that particular moment.

Her eyes, huge and dark blue in a small, lovely, heart-shaped face, were full of questions and she seemed almost eager, for the first time that evening, to talk with him.

“What kind of work do you do?” she asked, not meeting his eyes as she ran a finger along the glossy edge of the oak table in the adjoining breakfast nook.

“I own a dog-training facility. I opened it a couple of years ago and I have a few assistants now, other trainers. We do all kinds of work—basic obedience, scent, search and rescue—but my most recent project is working with veterans.”

“Do you mind if I ask, I mean, how well does that usually work? The vet-and-dog combination?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her sit down at the table and he began cutting squares of cheese off a block of cheddar.

Isaac gave a rough little laugh. “You’re not the only one who wants to know that,” he said. A lot of people—influential people—wondered the same thing, and soon Isaac hoped to have a way of answering that with his own research, so that he could raise the necessary funding to expand his project. A project that, thanks to great dogs and veterans willing to work hard to overcome their pain, had already changed several lives for the better. He enjoyed all kinds of training, but this particular sort had become his passion over the past couple of years.

“Quite well, actually.”

Avery’s forehead wrinkled in curiosity, which he took as an invitation to keep talking. Normally, he was a pretty quiet guy, even a little on the shy side, one might say, but when it came to his career, he could go on all day.

“Service animals make some of the best companions to soldiers who’ve returned from war carrying more than physical baggage. With the right training, they can be a huge asset to people dealing with past trauma or symptoms of PTSD, and they can be even better than medication at calming soldiers in the midst of panic attacks, or...even flashbacks.”

He wasn’t going to put a label on what had happened with Avery that night. He wasn’t a doctor and he didn’t have all the details, but his gut told him that’s what had occurred to her prior to him stumbling upon her in that ditch.

“Sorry if I sound like a public service announcement. I just care a lot about this stuff. It’s affected a lot of people I care about.”

Her shoulders let go of some of their tension as he spoke, and there was even a hint of hope in her eyes as he explained the process of rescuing dogs from the local shelter and giving them homes, purpose and new, full lives.

“So basically you’re saving two people at once,” she said, her eyes brighter than they had been since he’d met her. “Or, well, one person and one dog—you know what I meant,” she said, her cheeks turning a pretty, soft pink.

He bent to pull a skillet from a low cabinet, partly so he could warm up a pat of butter and start the sandwich, and partly so she wouldn’t see the way her sweet expression had affected him.

He didn’t mind helping her out—any decent guy would have done the same—and he was glad to let her stay awhile until the sun came up. He was even happy to make her a much-needed meal. He told himself it was harmless to feel attracted to a too-thin but still gorgeous woman he’d happened upon by some stroke of fate, but what he could not allow was for that attraction to go any further.

From the looks of things, Avery Abbott needed a lot of help, some of which he might even be able to offer, but it was highly unlikely she was looking for a relationship. Not with what she was obviously going through right now.

And Isaac, truth be told, very much wanted one.

He lit the stove and waited for it to heat, finally placing the butter in to melt.

“I haven’t saved anyone,” he said. “They save each other.”

While the butter changed from solid to a sizzling little pool, he put cheese between bread slices and arranged two plates to hold the finished food. Once he’d set the first sandwich in the pan, he chanced another look at her, surprised to see unshed tears shimmering in Avery’s eyes. She rubbed at her lids and he looked away, kicking himself for saying something that might have added any more pain to her already awful night. He wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure what to say; words had never been his strong suit. He much preferred movement and action, but those weren’t always what was required.

Five minutes later, he plated the sandwiches and brought them, along with two glasses of water, over to the table to join Avery, who smiled up at him as he sat, all traces of moisture gone from those sapphire eyes.

“Thank you for this,” she said softly, “and for everything. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “What was I supposed to do, leave you out there alone on the side of the road? What kind of man would that make me?” He winked and picked up his sandwich.

That coaxed a little grin out of her, which gave him more satisfaction than it should have.

“I have to say, Mr. Meyer, you do seem like a stand-up guy. Do you make a habit of rescuing lost women in the middle of the night?” she asked, and he had the distinct feeling she was flirting with him a little.

Something fluttered in his belly, and he didn’t think it was hunger.

“I haven’t before,” he answered, “but after tonight, who knows? Maybe I will.”

Avery laughed so hard at that cheesiness that the sip of water she’d just taken almost came out of her nose. Within minutes, they were both laughing like idiots, at what he really couldn’t say.

But it felt good.

After the weirdest night of his life, and after the too-strong sense of relief he now felt seeing that this woman, this soldier, could still laugh despite the things life had thrown her way, it felt good to join her in a moment of ridiculousness. It was almost as if something in his heart had come unknotted.

Even though he knew it was completely irrational, he realized suddenly, with as much certainty and force as one might realize it’s raining as drops hit the ground, that he would do absolutely everything he could to help her get better.


Chapter Four (#u9bc9e2c7-cb80-59b4-a2bb-32f58adca267)

Avery’s heart hammered out a quick rhythm as she opened the back door slowly and with measured care—then winced as it squeaked loudly in protest, as if its intention was to inform the entire house of her...adventures.

She resented feeling like a teenager, sneaking into her brother’s home. Just another reminder that her life as of late was anything but normal. And, oh, how she craved normal.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Despite its softness, Macy’s greeting caused Avery to gasp and turn around so fast that whiplash wouldn’t have been an implausible outcome.

“Holy goodness, Mace. You scared the living daylights out of me,” Avery said, shoving a hand against her heart. As she leaned back and let her spine rest against the closed door, fighting to catch her breath, she studied her sister-in-law. Macy was, as always, as pretty at the crack of dawn—with her golden hair all messy and the imprint of a pillow seam etched into her cheek—as she had been on her and Tommy’s wedding day. Avery indulged in the memory—a time when everything was simpler, purer—before she’d brought home a personal hell that had begun to seep into all their lives.

“Speaking of daylights,” Macy said quietly, tugging her frayed, pink terry-cloth robe tighter around her waist, “the sun hasn’t even risen and here you are looking like you’ve had quite a night.”

Avery’s lips formed a thin line, but she held Macy’s gaze, despite the temptation to look away from what she saw in the sweet, open face.

“What do you want me to say?”

Macy closed her eyes and then opened them again, sympathy etched into her features. “I just want you to be okay, honey, that’s all. We all do.” She looked as though she might want to touch or hold Avery, but knew better from experience.

Even though the conversation wasn’t anything new, something tugged at Avery’s heartstrings and for a second she longed to just collapse and let it all out—to tell someone how desperately scared she was, how the nightmares kept getting worse, and how she couldn’t always tell the difference between those and the flashbacks. How sometimes she wasn’t sure whether she was awake or asleep.

But something else, something strange and new, told her this wasn’t the time or place...but that maybe she was getting close to being able to do just that...and that maybe Isaac was that place. As Macy waited for an answer to the questions she hadn’t voiced out loud but were always there, Avery thought back to the man she’d met that morning.

Even under the strange circumstances that brought them together last night, he had been so calm, so sturdy and safe, like a lighthouse in a raging storm. He’d taken care of her without hesitation, and for some reason she knew he would have done the same for any wayward creature.

He was the embodiment of that most rare and beautiful thing, something Avery had seen precious little of over the past few years: basic human kindness.

“Well, now, there’s something you don’t see every day,” Macy said, a giggle bubbling up around her words. “You want to tell me what has you smiling like that, or is it a secret?”

Avery, disbelieving, reached up and touched a finger to her lips, realizing only upon feeling their upward curve to what her sister-in-law referred. Before she could form a response, Macy’s eyes lit up and her mouth opened wide.

“Oh, my gosh, Avery,” she blurted. “Were you—” she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward “—were you...with a guy?”

“No!” Avery spat, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. She winced. “Well, technically, yes, but it’s not what it seems.” She held her palms out, hoping for emphasis.

Macy eyed her with blatant skepticism. “Yeah,” she said, grinning, “usually when people say that, it’s exactly what it seems.”

A little unexpected laugh escaped from Avery’s throat. She peered at her sister, her friend, with narrow eyes. “You’ve been watching too many romantic comedies,” she said, hoping to divert attention away from herself, blushing a little at the mere thought that Macy’s suggestion put into her head.

She had a feeling it wouldn’t go away as easily or as quickly as it had arrived. Isaac’s dark, unruly hair twisted around her fingers, those deep brown eyes gazing at her with...with what, exactly? Lust? Over her?

Not likely, at least not in her current state of skin and bones. She’d need to put on a good ten pounds before anything like that happened, or someone might get hurt. Before she could stop them, more thoughts tumbled in, unbidden. Suddenly, she remembered being carried in those arms—strong arms, brandished a deep gold by the Texas sun—and, for once, the thought of being held didn’t seem quite so scary. It was nice to feel attraction to a man, a welcome distraction from her usual preoccupations.

“Something tells me I’m not too far off,” Macy said, interrupting Avery’s ridiculous reverie.

It would be great if her dreams were more like that than the terrifying things they actually were. She met her sister-in-law’s curious gaze. “No,” she answered truthfully. “I did run into your neighbor Isaac Meyer, but it’s not like what you’re thinking.”

Macy’s shoulders sagged and Avery’s heart bruised. How desperately she longed to bring smiles to her loved ones’ faces—not pain or disappointment.

Macy reached out a hand, tentatively, and after a second’s hesitation, Avery grabbed it, anxiety and a desire for comfort raging a familiar battle at the sensation of human contact. Macy’s expression registered the wound, but there wasn’t much to say on the subject that hadn’t already been rehashed a hundred times.

Her family knew she’d suffered plenty of emotional trauma during her last tour; she spared them the details of what happened in that place. She knew that these people who loved her were not the enemy. She knew they meant her no harm, but her body, and parts of her mind, still struggled with the difference between a friendly touch and a hostile one.

“I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be nice to see you spending some time with a sweet fella,” Macy answered. “Isaac Meyer definitely fits the bill, and that boy has been single for way too long.” She gently squeezed Avery’s hand before tugging her in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s get some caffeine in you and you can tell me what exactly did happen.”

She winked and Avery rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be led toward the energizing scent of fresh coffee.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for her to talk to Macy about the strange past few hours. Maybe it would be nice to share breakfast and silly, carefree chatter about a man, like the old days.

Or at least she could pretend to, for her family’s sake.

* * *

“All set?” Macy asked later that morning as Avery stepped into the lobby following her weekly appointment with Dr. Santiago, her therapist.

Avery nodded and Macy smiled warmly as she put down a magazine she’d been reading, grabbed her purse and stood to leave. They walked quietly to the elevator, Avery reviewing her session with Dr. Santiago. Though she saw the doctor regularly, most of her previous appointments ran together, characterized only by the strong feeling that nothing ever really changed; some days were better than others, but overall, she felt she’d made no true progress over the past several months, a thought that only served to decrease her confidence that she would someday get past it all.

But today—something felt different. Something felt...better. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was it that she had tried harder to talk about her struggles? Had she simply opened up more? Yes, and no. She shook her head as she reached out to punch the down button on the panel between two elevators. Perhaps she’d made a little more effort than usual to speak frankly with the doctor, but it wasn’t just that. She always did her best during her sessions, always pushed as far as she could go, working to excavate that deep abyss of painful war memories. No. This time, it was something else. Something to do with her night with Isaac.

“So, I was thinking,” Macy said, her words tentative, almost as though she knew before she spoke them that whatever idea she had would be shot down. Avery winced, fully aware that she had a large part in making her sister-in-law feel that way around her.

Avery looked over to see Macy fiddling with her purse strap, her forehead creased. “What is it?”

“Well, you know that new nail salon they just opened up the street from here?”

“Uh-huh,” Avery answered, her thoughts still partly focused on her session with Dr. Santiago. She heard Macy swallow.

“I was thinking we could stop on the way to the grocery and maybe get pedicures or something.” She looked over at Avery, cautious hope in her eyes. “My treat.”

A sharp ding sound rang out and the elevator doors slid open. Once they’d stepped inside and chosen the ground floor as their destination, Avery glanced over at Macy, who was biting her lower lip now, her features giving away her trepidation.

Avery’s heart sank. How many times had she said no to such a simple request, to things that Macy offered as a way to reach out to her, in constant effort to help her through her tough times? How many times had she denied those offers, yet they kept coming? She smiled softly at Macy, realizing for the first time how lucky she was to have this persistent, positive woman in her life. How many others had she hurt and pushed away because she was too afraid they wouldn’t be able to handle the new, dark parts of her soul?

“I’d like that,” she said, and Macy’s face lit up. Macy squeezed her palms and raised her forearms, then lowered them quickly so as not to appear too excited.

“It’s okay,” Avery said, giggling. “You can be happy about it.”

“Yay!” Macy cried out as she did a little bounce, causing them both to laugh.

The elevator stopped and both women stepped out into the parking garage.

“Look, Macy, I know it must be hard for you to keep...trying...with me, and—” Avery swallowed over the lump developing in her throat, startled by the sudden onslaught of emotion “—I want you to know I notice how hard you’ve been trying to make me feel better.” She closed her eyes, working to organize her thoughts around the most important thing she needed to get across. “I mean to say that I’m thankful for you. For all that you and Tommy do for me, really. But especially you.”

Macy stopped and turned toward Avery, her eyes filling as she reached out and wrapped her sister-in-law in a hug, squeezing hard.

When she let go, they walked to the car in silence, both smiling. It felt good to say yes to something, even something as small as a pedicure with a special family member—and friend—who’d remained close, no matter how hard Avery unintentionally pushed her away. She thought of that night with Isaac, how she’d allowed him to feed and care for her, despite feeling afraid of what conclusions he might draw about the state of her mental health. It was almost as though that choice—the choice to let someone new in, despite the difficulty it took to do so—was an opening for other opportunities that she’d been missing out on for so long.

Besides, she thought, grinning to herself, she could use some color on her toes. She decided then that she would pick something bright, something that would make her feel uplifted when she looked down at her feet. Something that maybe Isaac might notice and like.

As Macy pulled her car out into the sunshine, a small spark of life lit up somewhere deep inside the darkest place in Avery’s heart.


Chapter Five (#ulink_1c376ac6-0ea9-58ac-ad0d-244ad2c6bf91)

What had seemed like a good idea earlier that morning was really just a sack of zucchini in the light of day.

Isaac could have kicked his own ass for not coming up with a better ruse for stopping by to check on Avery Abbott after the night they’d spent in each other’s company. A week had passed since that strange night—the slowest week of his life. He’d only been able to go through the motions during that time, each task permeated with thoughts of a woman unlike any other he’d ever met.

But still...zucchini? Anyone would be able to see through his excuse. The vegetable was insanely easy to grow, even in a dry-as-a-bone Texas summer like the one they were having—they were so good at growing that anyone within a hundred miles of Peach Leaf who wanted the vegetables already had enough to feed an army. People could only stand so many salads and breads and desserts with the stuff snuck in. But, for some knuckleheaded reason, Isaac had decided that bringing a bag of the green things would pass as a decent excuse to visit his neighbor’s farm.

Yes, that’s correct, he thought. I’m bringing a crap ton of zucchini...to a farm. He shook his head. Hell, it might have come from that very farm, he noted with a sinking sensation in his belly.

With so many well-meaning locals—overwhelmingly widows and grannies...and widowed grannies—dropping off food at his place on a regular basis, he lost track of its origins. He didn’t hold it against all the sweet gals, but once in a while, it was enough to make him consider moving to Austin, where a thirtysomething bachelor wasn’t likely to turn so many heads.

He pulled his four-wheeler into Tommy and Macy’s drive, careful to watch out for free-range chickens and goats. He got out and Jane jumped down from her perch on the seat in front of him, hightailing it up the porch steps. As the front door swung open, the scent of something sweet cooking wafted out into the already warm air.

“Hey, Janie girl,” Tommy said, scratching the dog between her ears before she invited herself into the house. “Hey, bud,” he said, turning to Isaac and heading down the steps, cup of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’, Tom,” Isaac said, returning the greeting as he reached into the seat compartment to pull out the embarrassing sack of vegetables.

Tommy’s eyebrows rose up so far they almost met the brim of his straw Stetson. When Isaac just stood there, holding the offending sack away from him like a baby with a dirty diaper, realization crossed Tommy’s features and he started to slowly back away, holding up a hand. “Aw, no way, man. Macy’s got so many of those damn things. If she strung all the little bastards together, they’d reach the moon and back.”

Isaac cursed and swung the bag over his shoulder, feeling more and more like a complete idiot.

“What in the world were you thinking bringing those things here?” Tommy continued, keeping his distance. “You lost your ever-lovin’ mind, my friend?” He took a long sip of his coffee, clearly waiting for a response.

The two men had been good friends ever since Isaac inherited his grandma’s property and moved in to the old ranch house. They were living proof that opposites really do attract. Isaac, who wasn’t usually keen on too much chatter, had taken an instant liking to his neighbor, despite the fact that the man never shut his mouth and could carry on a conversation with just about anybody or anything. His easygoing habit of yakking made Isaac comfortable, mostly because he didn’t have to say much for them to get along just fine, and, well, Tommy was just so damn nice. Also, it was obvious that the man doted on his family, as if Macy had hung the moon, and their two little ones, all the stars in the sky.

It was exactly the kind of family Isaac had always pictured having himself one day. If only he could find the right girl. Someone who wouldn’t mind his quiet nature and his shyness around new people. Someone, maybe, kind of like Avery Abbott—his true reason for dropping by.

“Oh, just forget about those things and come on in. Macy’s got breakfast on. But, if you think it’s just flour, milk and sugar in those waffles, guess again. It’s like I said before, that girl has stuffed those green devils into everything we’ve eaten in the past month because she hates to waste them, and, I’m telling you, at least fifty more popped up in her garden overnight.”

Isaac smiled at his friend’s happy chatter.

“Don’t be surprised if next time you stop by, I’ve turned into one of ’em.” Tommy stopped suddenly at the top of the steps. “What’d you say you dropped by for, again?” He lifted up his white hat and scratched his forehead. “Not that you need a reason. Just want to make sure you don’t leave here empty-handed if you were needing something—”

“Tom?” Isaac said quietly, seeking a brief break in his friend’s out-loud thinking.

“—Macy would never let me hear the end of it if—”

“Tom!”

He finally turned around, a sleepy smile on his face. Isaac had never known his friend to wear any other expression.

“What’s on your mind, bud?”

Now that he had Tom’s attention, Isaac hesitated, unsure what can of worms he might risk opening if he answered the question truthfully.

He knew Tom was protective of Avery beyond what would be expected of a brother, and he could understand why. From what he’d seen the other night, what folks said about her time in service, and from the way she seemed to socialize far less than other locals, he could guess that she’d come back from war bearing a few scars—the kind you couldn’t see with a good pair of eyes.

The jumpiness he’d witnessed in her that night and her disorientation in an area she was familiar with were textbook post-trauma symptoms. He recognized them from the vets he trained service dogs for, and from—the memory still ached in a part of Isaac’s heart that he knew would never heal—from his brother. Which was why he’d avoided visiting the farm and his friends the past few months since he’d heard that Avery moved in. Working with PTSD victims in his job was one thing—watching his friend’s sister struggle through it was entirely another.

She needed help. More help than whatever Veteran Affairs currently provided, more help than her family would know how to give her, regardless of how much they loved and supported her.

Isaac knew, better than most, that love wasn’t always enough.

Love couldn’t always save someone.

So, as much as it might cost him in the long run, Isaac decided it was best to be open with Tom, for Avery’s sake. He’d just have to make sure Macy didn’t read too much into his visit, or she’d be on his case, and he’d find himself being set up again, only to turn up disappointed if it didn’t work out.

The other night, despite her condition, he could feel the electric hint of possibility between them, and he couldn’t deny that she was the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on—but for now, all he wanted to do was help.

He set his shoulders back and held up a hand to shade his brow against the first rays of the rising sun. The day was already plenty warm, and he could tell it would be a hot one.

“Actually, yeah. There is something on my mind. Two things, actually. I’m so sorry I haven’t stopped by to see you guys lately, and, well, I’m not here to see you now, to be honest.”

Isaac ignored the goofy grin on Tommy’s face, not really caring that he wasn’t making any sense.

“I’m here to check on Avery.”

* * *

Avery accepted the mug Macy handed her and took a long sip of the rich, strong coffee it contained, closing her eyes as the taste of good beans, a little sugar and a splash of fresh cream washed over her taste buds.

Macy was grinning from across the table when she opened her eyes.

“Good?”

“The best. I’ve always loved your coffee. Not like the coffee-flavored water Tommy always made before you came along,” Avery said, laughing.

Macy beamed with pride. “Well, I’m glad you like it, and it’s here every morning, but it’s not enough to put meat on your bones, girl. You can’t keep going on caffeine and the occasional bowl of cereal. You need to eat. You’ve barely had a real meal since you moved in here.”

Avery took another sip and nodded in agreement. “I know I do.”

“So, tell me what it is. Is there something I can make that you’d wolf down? When I first met Tommy, you were a nachos-and-beer kind of girl. Maybe we just need to get you to a Tex-Mex place, stat.” Macy’s voice was light, but Avery didn’t miss the hint of seriousness in the woman’s words.

“It’s hard to explain, Mace. It’s almost like...like everything tastes stale or cardboard-y. I couldn’t tell you why. Ever since... I just can’t seem to eat like I used to. But I’ll try harder. Really, I will. And last week, I did eat a pretty mean sandwich at Isaac’s—”

At the sound of the front door swinging open, both women exchanged glances and then turned their heads to the kitchen entryway.

“Honey, is that you?” Macy called out.

“Me and company,” Tommy bellowed from the hallway.

A racket started at the front door and thundered down the hall, and suddenly Isaac’s dog, Jane, was rushing through the kitchen entrance, headed straight toward the table. Macy’s eyes widened in surprise but Avery’s heart swelled at the sight of the dog.

“Janie!” Avery said as the giant mutt bounded over to her chair. She stopped short and sat in front of Avery, her behind wiggling with the effort of not jumping into Avery’s lap. She reached up a paw and Avery touched it, laughing. “High-five!”

“Goodness,” Macy said. “Someone’s in love.”




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