He chuckles, his entire face lighting up when he smiles. “Of course. I don’t think he had a bad thing to say about you.”
As I’m about to respond and call him on that particular fallacy, I note a fourth man approaching. This one’s hair is dark as well, but a bit longer on top of his head than Ryker’s. His gaze is friendly, and there’s a smile on his face.
“This is Garrison Holt,” Zane introduces.
“It’s great to meet you,” Garrison says. “Cap’s been talking about his family non-stop since we met.”
I laugh, appreciating the kindness. “Well, we’ve heard all about you guys, too. The team of Navy SEALs who have followed my brother into countless war zones.” I glance around, realizing that one is missing. “But, wait, wasn’t there another one of you?”
“Are we not enough?” Ryker jokes. “Ouch.”
My cheeks heat. After all, there’s a whole lot of handsome muscle standing around me. I may be on a dating hiatus, but I’m not blind. And certainly not immune.
Zane waves at someone behind me. “There’s Sawyer now.”
I turn, and the rest of the airport disappears in the blink of an eye as I come face-to-face with Sawyer. His caramel eyes captivate me, and I catch myself staring for far longer than I should. His face is clean-shaven, his hair nearly black.
“Hey,” I say. “Anastasia.” I jut out my hand, not sure what else I should do.
Oh, boy, what is this feeling?
“Sawyer.” He takes my hand, and awareness shoots through me. The warmth of his firm grip is something I could easily get used to. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and heat surges through my body.
Dating hiatus, Anastasia, I remind myself. No matter how attractive this guy is, he’s off-limits.
Besides, the last thing I need is to fall for one of my brother’s friends. What a mistake that could be.
With the memory fresh in my mind, I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. It’s still dark, with the only light coming in through my partially open door. Sleep has eluded me once more, and what little sleep I did get was riddled with a mixture of dreams and nightmares.
The memory of when I first met the team was a nice break from the latter.
“Ugh,” a muttered voice reaches me, so I get out of bed and head down the hall. The light over the stove is on, and Sawyer is standing just in front of it, his shirt partially over his head.
I’ll never tire of the sight of his muscled torso.
He turns, not seeing me, and I get a view of his back.
There are small scars right in the center of his back, and I try to remember if I’ve ever seen them before. Surely I’ve seen his back before, right? Except, I would have noticed those. As he struggles with his shirt, I move in a bit closer.
The cluster of small, round scars becoming sickeningly clear. “Sawyer.”
He turns toward me, eyes wide. “This is awkward.”
“Your back.”
His grin fades, and he struggles to get the shirt over his injured arm, but he hisses in pain. “Which ones?”
I move up behind him and gently touch the tips of my fingers to them. “What are these?”
He stills beneath my touch. “Uh. Cigarette burns. Courtesy of foster dad number five.”
“Sawyer.” Horror shoves the attraction I felt aside. As I try to count them, the knowledge of what was done to him sears me, shattering my heart. “That’s terrible.”
He turns toward me. “I survived.”
“Sawyer.” My eyes fill, and Sawyer takes my unbroken hand in his, then presses it to his chest. There is a scattering of scars on the front of his body, too. Bullet holes and a handful of smaller injuries I’d really rather not focus too intently on.
“Baby, I’m fine.”
