Made For Loving You (Rescue My Heart Book 3) Page 5

  “Be safe.”

  “Always.”

  Still feeling the warmth of her lips, he headed out to do his job.

  Chapter 5

  As an engine cranked up outside, Paisley stood in the kitchen, barefoot, in Ty’s shirt, lips still tingling from his kiss as her ears rang with “See you when I get home.” Duke chuffed at the door. The coffeemaker burbled. On the counter behind her, the breakfast they’d made lay cooling. In the sudden silence, the doubts came creeping in like ghosts, sapping away the flirty, happy buoyancy that had carried her through the morning.

  She wasn’t ready to go home. Above and beyond the dread of what might be waiting for her, she hadn’t wanted to leave Ty and the little bubble he’d created this weekend. But she’d been prepared for the inevitable departure. The moment he’d gotten that phone call, she’d been trying to stuff all the messy feelings back into a box so he wouldn’t see how disappointed she was that they were losing their last few hours. Fake it ’til you make it at its finest.

  She hadn’t been prepared for him to ask her to stay.

  The request had alarm bells sounding from the perimeter wall around her heart. Keeping things easy and casual with him was already so incredibly hard, even before they’d both been seduced by the nostalgia of the way they used to be. She wasn’t under any delusions that they’d been doing anything else. They both kept reaching for the past, for the familiar. There was a comfort in it. It seemed they were both at a place where they needed comfort.

  But it was a dangerous game to play. Where was the line between then and now? It should have been easy to see. Eighteen years should have been a stark divide. They’d been apart for so much longer than they’d been together. But it was hard to hold on to the pain of all that time and distance when faced with the living man. The man who’d admitted to thinking of her for years after they’d parted.

  Once, he’d been her everything.

  She had never been able to put away all the what ifs. Not really. It was why she’d begun writing romance in the first place, needing the comfort of that dream that he’d come back for her. Over and over, she’d played it out on a fictional screen. And then she’d written about the moving on. The letting go. Those books had healed her. But a small, probably stupid, part of her had never stopped hoping. Indulging that hope now was like playing Russian Roulette with her heart. He’d nearly destroyed her once. What were the odds he’d do anything else this time around?

  Unwilling to face the contemplation of that uncaffeinated, Paisley willed herself into motion, pouring the coffee, plating up French toast and bacon. She grabbed extra for herself and Duke. In her world, no bacon was left behind. Munching on a piece, she began opening cabinets, searching for the maple syrup. Ah ha. Last upper cabinet by the fridge. As she retrieved the bottle, some kind of card fluttered to the floor.

  Scooping it up, she glanced at the formal type. Another wedding invitation?

  …celebration of life for Garrett Michael Reeves.

  Oh.

  Her heart gave a painful squeeze. Garrett Reeves was as much a part of her high school memories as Ty. The two had been friends from the cradle, and she remembered them cheerfully saying they’d be friends to the grave. Even on their way into the Army together, she didn’t think it had occurred to them that the end could come so much sooner for one or both of them. She’d been gone from Coopers Bend for years, but even she’d heard about Garrett’s death in combat. Ty had said nothing about it, and she hadn’t asked because it would’ve been diving into the deep end. She didn’t need to ask to know how he was doing. They’d been brothers in all but blood. Garrett’s loss would have devastated him.

  That this invitation was shoved away in a cabinet said it wasn’t a thing he wanted to think about. It was a good reminder that this Ty had serious wounds she knew nothing about. No matter what happened, nostalgia wouldn’t hide those wounds forever.

  Was agreeing to stay a mistake?

  Carrying the food to the table, she called the one person who’d be completely honest with her.

  Emerson picked up on the third ring. “Hey!” She sounded breathless.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No. Mooch just decided to scale the kitchen cabinets again. Caleb’s got him. When are you getting home? He could do with a play date with Duke to work off the excess energy.”

  “About that.”

  Her tone immediately turned wary. “What?”

  Buying herself some time, Paisley nibbled on bacon, breaking off a piece for Duke, who sat quivering with desperate hope by her chair. “Ty asked me to stay.”

  Emerson took a beat too long to answer. “For how long?”

  “He didn’t exactly specify.” More with the bacon nibbling. “A few more days. He got called into work a bit ago.”

  “You said yes.” It wasn’t a question. And why should it be? Emerson had known her for years.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that a good idea?” How many times had she heard this question? How many times had the answer been yes? Not as often as Paisley would’ve liked.

  “Honestly, probably not.”

  “But you’re still staying.”

  “I said I would.” She kept seeing his face, those few moments of unguarded hope before he began to close off again, thinking she’d say no. And the relief when she hadn’t.

  “Paisley,” Emerson sighed. “Are the orgasms that good?”

  A laugh burst out of her. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not why. He’s different. And he’s not. We agreed to the casual, but he’s not acting casual.” She told Emerson about the date Friday night and the rest of the weekend they’d spent talking and laughing. It was easy to be with him, as long as neither of them thought about it too hard.

  “Do you think he’s working his way around to asking for a second chance?”

  The million-dollar question.

  “I don’t know. I’m a romantic. Of course, I want to think that. But I don’t know how much of that is just me seeing what I’ve always wanted to see.” She got points for admitting she wasn’t objective about this, right?

  Emerson stayed quiet for long moments. “It took you years to get over him the first time.”

  “l know.”

  She wouldn’t get over him this time. In truth, she wasn’t sure that she ever really had. His loss had just become a pain she’d learned to live with. An ache that let her know she was still alive.

  “We both know you’re not actually calling for my opinion. You’ve already made up your mind.”

  “I guess I just needed to talk it through. Hear the whole thing out loud. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know if this is going to fizzle out. Maybe he’ll decide he’s tired of me. Or maybe we both just need some kind of proper closure and goodbye on our timeline instead of Uncle Sam’s. But I don’t think I can walk away. Not without giving this a chance. Because I’d always wonder, and I’m so tired of wondering.”

  “I hope it works out for you, Pais. I really do. But I’ll load in a stockpile of ice cream just in case.”

  It took an hour and a half to find the site of the explosion. It took two hours more to track down the culprits. No actual laws had been broken—there was, sadly, no statute against being stupid—but by the time Xander had finished putting the fear of God into the idiots who’d thought it would be fun to blow up a major appliance, it was headed toward three.

  As the door of the Sheriff’s Department closed behind the Duffy brothers, Ty learned back against a desk. “You think they’ll shape up?”

  “Odds are no. And if they don’t, one or both of them will land in jail or an early grave. I’m hoping a visit from Agent Slattery from the ATF tomorrow will sufficiently scare them into behaving. For a while at least.”

  “God willing. You need me for anything else?” Ty was ready to get home to Paisley. The knowledge that she’d be there, waiting for him, had been a constant warm hum in the back of his brain as he’d done his duty. He was assi
duously avoiding any analysis of that fact.

  “No. Get on out of here. Sorry for interrupting your weekend.” The sheriff’s lips quirked. “My mama said she saw you getting cozy with a very attractive brunette Friday night.”

  Of course, she had.

  “Respectfully, I know you’ve already had confirmation from Essie, so I see no point in commenting. See you tomorrow.”

  Xander’s laughter followed him out the door.

  He ought to hit up Garden of Eden for some groceries before he headed home. His cabinets were getting pretty bare, and he felt compelled to offer Paisley more than the frozen dinners that were his fall back.

  A text came in as he slid into his sheriff’s cruiser, after buying more than he’d planned from the market. Expecting something from Paisley, he was grinning as he pulled out his phone. The grin faded as he read the group text from Harrison.

  911. Elvira’s. ASAP.

  Ty’s former captain and close friend didn’t make overdramatic and unnecessary pronouncements, which meant something big was going down. Knowing he wouldn’t get any more information until he got there, Ty thumbed back an immediate reply.

  En route.

  His brain spun on the short drive, wondering why they were being convened. Harrison and Ivy had only just returned from their honeymoon today. Was it another combat death among their military brothers? Organizing a suicide watch for others who were stateside? In the not-distant-enough past, his friends had done that for him. It had been Harrison himself who’d prevented Ty from eating a bullet to stop the grief and the guilt he hadn’t known how to live with, so whatever his friend needed, he was there.

  Porter Ingram was climbing out of his truck as Ty arrived, and Sebastian whipped into a space a few moments later. They convened at the door.

  “Any of y’all know what this is about?”

  Expression grim, Sebastian tugged open the door. “No idea.”

  “I didn’t know he was even back yet,” Porter added.

  Bracing himself, Ty followed his buddies inside. The sense of creeping dread only intensified as he spotted Harrison sitting at a table in the far corner, a beer in his hand at three in the afternoon. The greenish tinge to his face didn’t improve as he caught sight of them.

  Ty and Sebastian dropped into chairs on either side of him, with Porter across the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Ty demanded.

  Harrison picked at the label on his bottle. “I have been through some squirrelly shit. You were there for a lot of it. You know. But I’m not ready for this.”

  “For what?” Porter braced his forearms on the table. “Did you and Ivy have a fight already?”

  It hadn’t occurred to Ty that the problem could be something with Harrison’s new wife. As the only single one among them, Ty figured he’d do better to keep his mouth shut.

  “No. No. We’re great.” Harrison scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s pregnant.”

  Sebastian’s mouth split into a wide grin. “I called it! Pay up, y’all.”

  “Neither of us actually took that bet,” Porter pointed out. “This is a helluva piece of good news to get right before Maggie and I head down to Mississippi. Congratulations.”

  Ty had no idea what to say to this announcement. He knew military life and law enforcement. The whole marriage and family thing was so far out of his wheelhouse, he might as well be jumping out of a plane without a parachute. But he couldn’t just remain silent while Harrison sat there looking scared shitless.

  “What does Ivy think about all this?”

  Harrison took a pull on his beer. “I mean, she’s kinda freaking out. So, I had to be all cool and collected and pretend like I’m not losing my shit. But I’m totally losing my shit. I’m not ready to be father!” The whites of his eyes showed in the dim light, and his hand fisted the longneck bottle like a lifeline.

  Ty felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Now that he knew nobody’s life was in danger, he was starting to recognize the humor in the situation. Not that Harrison would appreciate it. “Dude, you can navigate a HALO jump from thirty-five thousand feet. I think you can handle a kid.”

  He turned panicked eyes in Ty’s direction. “But…but…what if it’s a girl? I don’t know the first thing about what to do with a girl.”

  Porter sat back in his chair, a sappy grin on his face. “Love her, hug her often, and don’t let her date until she’s thirty. Easy. That’s my plan.”

  As he’d just welcomed his own daughter to the world a few months before, he was certainly the most qualified to offer up advice.

  “Do you and Ivy want kids?” Almost as soon as the question was out of his mouth, Ty wanted to pull it back. It was too late for that discussion. Ready or not, a baby was on the way.

  “We’d talked about it in that far off, someday kind of way. But we’ve been enjoying being just us, you know? But…yeah, we do. I mean…that’s the dream, right? When we were out there in one hellhole after another. To someday come home to have a wife and family. This just moves up the timetable by…a lot.”

  Sebastian snorted. “I’m gonna really enjoy imagining you sweating your way through diaper duty.”

  “Your time is coming, pal,” Porter promised. “When are you gonna marry Laurel?”

  Sebastian leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got plans. But we’ve got to line some things up first before we can set a date. We just got word back on another of the grants we applied for. It’s enough to build a bunkhouse, so we can expand to a proper residential equine therapy program and serve more people.”

  As the three of them continued to talk about the lives they were building with the women they loved, Ty stayed quiet. His friends deserved this kind of happiness. They’d been through hell, and now was their chance to follow better dreams. He lifted a hand to signal the waitress. Once she’d brought a beer for each of them, Ty raised his glass. “To Harrison’s impending fatherhood and our latest competition.”

  “Competition?” Sebastian asked.

  Ty clinked his bottle to theirs. “May the best uncle win.”

  “That’s not the only thing we ought to be toasting,” Sebastian insisted. “Our boy Ty is finally joining the land of the living. He was out Friday night on a date. I saw with my own two eyes that he was smiling.”

  “Oh, shut the hell up.”

  “Really? That’s awesome, man. Who is she?” Harrison asked.

  Sebastian continued as if Ty wasn’t sitting right there. “I’ve been wanting to ask if you know her. Paisley Parish. She said she was a friend of Ivy’s.”

  “Oh yeah, I’ve met her a couple times. Bold, fun, and funny. Great laugh. I think she’ll be good for you.”

  Ty never imagined himself being happy like the rest of them. He didn’t deserve happy. So what the hell was he doing with Paisley? He wasn’t the marriage and family guy. She hadn’t asked for that, but he hadn’t exactly been faithful to the casual spirit of the agreement she had asked for. What if, by indulging this…whatever it was, he was giving her expectations? That would be downright cruel, and she was the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

  He’d asked her to stay.

  Shit.

  He’d made a huge mistake.

  Needing to escape the happiness and the teasing and the attention, he shoved back from the table. “I gotta go. Congrats to you and Ivy.”

  “Oh now, come on, we were just joking,” Sebastian protested.

  Ty threw down some bills to cover the tab and shook his head. He needed to go do damage control.

  Chapter 6

  She hadn’t been looking for the book. She hadn’t been deliberately poking around Ty’s place at all beyond what was necessary to find a wooden bowl for the fruit that would ruin in that bag on top of the microwave or the basket she’d found for the pretty greenery and pinecones she’d gathered on her afternoon walk. And, okay, she’d needed the extra blankets she’d finally located in a chest because the wood stove had gone out and she didn’t know how to relig
ht it. But how was she to know his library, such as it was, would be in the cleverly concealed drawers beneath the sofa? And why shouldn’t she have looked? She was an author, a reader. She loved books. He had several of Ivy’s thrillers, some of Harrison’s sci fi, an assortment of fantasy she wasn’t as familiar with. And many of hers.

  He’d told her that weekend of the wedding that he’d read and liked her books. She’d been utterly mortified, not only because he was far from her target audience, but because she’d been writing thinly veiled versions of him all this time. Or the him she’d imagined he’d become. If he’d recognized himself, he hadn’t called her out on it, and Paisley had let that detail go.

  She remembered it now as she lifted the battered volume. The edges were stained, the pages wavy, as if it had gotten wet at some point. The cover was little frayed and white around the corners, with a multitude of bends and folds, like maybe it had been shoved into a rucksack in a hurry. Maybe it had been. The spine was creased in the way of a favorite that had been visited again and again. Running a finger over her own name, she wondered why this one? There were a few others in the box, but none that had been this well read. It was one of her few romantic suspense novels, part of a series about a private security firm run by former military types. What was it about this story that had made him come back to it over and over? The redemption arc? The friends-to-lovers plot? Flipping pages, she let the book fall open. But before she could see what scene he’d reread, she heard a key in the lock.

  Feeling guilty, she hurriedly put the book back and shoved the drawer back under the sofa, throwing herself back into the nest of blankets.

  Ty came in laden with grocery bags. His gaze automatically swept the cabin, pausing on the fruit bowl she’d placed on the tiny butcher block island and the basket of greenery on the coffeetable beside her laptop. The mouth that had already been frowning seemed to dip further.

  “What’s with the green stuff?”

  “I picked it on my walk this afternoon. I thought it smelled nice.”