And for reasons I couldn’t’ explain, I wanted to go back.
CHAPTER TWO
Tucker
The door rattled when I slammed it. I’d built it myself to withstand harsh winter storms and a hungry bear if one happened to come around. It still shook on its hinges thanks to my temper.
I stood in the dim cabin, my bare chest cold, the little paper sack heavy in my hand. I should’ve tossed it, not liking the effects it sometimes had on me, but instead I set it on the counter. What the hell was Parker thinking, sending a girl like her up here alone?
Not a girl. A woman. All soft curves and quiet nerve. A braid she kept shoving behind her shoulder, big eyes that tried to look brave, a mouth that trembled before she decided to sass me anyway.
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. Too much light from standing in the doorway had already stirred that ugly pressure at the base of my skull. Migraine. It had waited until after she left—merciful bastard.
I killed the lamps and let the cabin sink into shadows. Wind whispered through the pines and the silence settled around me. I stretched my neck, rolled my shoulders, tried to pretend I didn’t still feel the ghost of her skin on my fingers from when the bag changed hands. Soft. Warm. The kind of soft a man like me didn’t get to keep.
I took one of the damn pills, again cursing my dependance on them. I’d lived with worse than pain, but could tell this was going to be a bitch I couldn’t shake off. I usually welcomed the pain. Pain meant I was still here. Still alive.
I lay down on my couch, but my brain didn’t stop replaying the scene on the porch. The way she’d looked at my scars—yeah, she saw them, everybody did—but there hadn’t been pity. Just… attention. A steady, clear kind. She’d looked long enough to know what she was seeing and then kept her chin up
The anger for Parker rose again. Who the hell sends sunshine to climb a mountain and argue with a wolf?
I let the medicine and the dark drag me under. Sometime after dawn, the edge of the pain backed off. It didn’t leave—never did these days—but it retreated enough that I could think in straight lines again. The light was gray, the kind that makes the world look like it hasn’t decided whether to be kind or cruel. I made coffee strong enough to pull paint off a wall and stared at the bottle of pills.
If Parker was going to start sending her, we were going to have a conversation.
Because the curvy nurse, with her soft voice and stubborn chin and those great big eyes that saw too much—was exactly why I stayed holed up in my cabin. And would continue to do so, despite the want she’d stirred up so unexpectedly.
She was a woman who would expect things. Conversation. Closeness. All the normal shit normal people did.
I wasn’t normal. I hadn’t been since the explosion took half my squad and left me with more scars than skin. Since I’d come back home to nothing—my mom had remarried during my last deployment and moved to Arizona with her new husband. She hadn’t even bothered to tell me until I was stateside. I had no siblings. No other family. I’d never known my father or anyof my grandparents. No, there was no one who gave a damn whether I lived or died.
My commanding officer had sent me here, to Lone Mountain. A place he’d heard of that took in men like me. Men who just wanted to be left alone. Race Gentry had set me up. Given me a cabin. A piece of land. Solitude. Peace. Another stray, another vet who couldn’t fit back into the world. He’d understood. Hadn’t asked any questions. Just handed me the keys and told me it was mine as long as I needed it.
I never left the mountain except for supplies. I didn’t talk to anyone except Parker and then, only when the pain got bad enough I couldn’t stand it. I hadn’t let anyone close.
Until yesterday.
The woman was still on my damn mind.
A curvy little nurse with a braid and worn sneakers who had climbed my mountain and looked at me like I was still human.
Against my better judgement, but driven by something inside me, I left my mountain.
And by the time I hit town, I remembered why I didn’t come down often. People stared—or looked away too quickly when they saw me.
That was why I preferred trees. They didn’t pity a man.
I parked behind the clinic and went inside. It smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee. The woman behind the reception desk blinked at me like I’d ridden in on a moose. I hadn’t been down in weeks. Maybe months. The calendar and I weren’t on speaking terms anymore.
“Well, well. Mr. Barrett, out of the hills.”
“Where’s Parker?” My voice came out flat, and she flinched even though I wasn’t aiming to make anybody jump.
“In with a patient.” Her gaze swept over me—flannel, stubble and a jaw set tight. My usual look. “Everything okay?”
“It will be when he stops sending people up that road alone.”
“Oh, you’re talking about Emily?”
