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Brandon had borrowed one of the ranch's trucks to make the drive back into town. He tucked Reegan into the passenger seat and strapped her in. When he climbed into the driver's seat, he wondered if he should reach for her hand. In the end, she curled away from him and rested her head against the passenger window.
Guilt hit him on the drive. It ratcheted up as the tires ate up the asphalt to lead them back to the ranch. All the while, Reegan was silent. It all must be hitting her now. Her brother's death as well as the loss of her home.
All Brandon wanted to do was give her cover and shelter as she felt the effects of her losses. He knew better than to offer her any words. For now, all he could give her was silence.
When he pulled up on the ranch, he parked the truck and came around to her side. After opening the door, he unbuckled her from the safety belt. She practically fell into his arms.
Bringing her into his borrowed home, he lay her down in the bed he'd vacated earlier that night. It was the only one made up. He'd find sheets and take the smaller room across the hall.
Pulling the sheets down now, Brandon placed Reegan’s small body inside. She made no move to undress, so he pulled off her shoes and then her socks. It was so intimate to see her pink toes on the white cotton bedsheets.
He felt he should look away. Instead, Brandon tucked her under the covers. He prepared to leave her there to her thoughts when she reached for his hand. Her callused fingers felt fragile on his large palm.
"They're all gone,” she whispered, her voice cracking as though it were dry from days in the desert.
Brandon didn't answer. He pulled up a chair from the side of the room. He kept her hand in his and settled down by her side for the night.
It wasn't like he'd get any sleep. He was certain he'd never sleep again. He'd taken not only her brother from her, but now he was responsible for her losing her home.
Chapter Twelve
Reegan woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Unfamiliar sheets. Unfamiliar ceiling fan. Unfamiliar curtains. Unfamiliar view.
The funny thing was she didn’t feel out of place. She also didn’t feel alone. Somehow, the unfamiliar place felt like home.
She looked to her right and saw why. Corporal Brandon Lucas was fast asleep in a chair beside the unfamiliar bed she was in. His big body in the small chair looked very uncomfortable.
Realization hit her square in her chest. She was in Brandon’s bed. He’d brought her here last night after …
Reegan closed her eyes. She wasn’t ready to face that reality. As long as she kept her eyes shut, as long as she kept the sun out, she didn’t have to remember what had happened.
"I'm sorry."
His deep voice penetrated the barrier she’d erected. The walls came crumbling down around her. She felt the heat of his gaze on her face. Reegan opened her eyes, and her heart nearly broke.
There were dark circles under Brandon’s eyes. The whites of his eyes were red, not the way they would be from crying. The way they would be if he hadn’t gotten any sleep.
"You don't sleep well?" she said.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a deep inhale, his jaw tightening. He rearranged his large form in the small chair. Had he been there all night? Without asking, Reegan knew that he had.
"Nightmares?" she asked.
Now he looked away. Reegan moved the sheet from her body. She pressed her bare feet to the cold floor only to recoil and tuck them back underneath herself. Brandon inhaled sharply, as though he’d felt the attack of the cold as well.
"Reece has them too,” she said. “The nightmares.”
Brandon's gaze came back to hers. She knew without him saying that he had fixated on the present tense she used when she spoke about her brother. Her home and everything she owned might be gone, but she was even more certain now that Reece wasn’t.
She turned to face the dawning sun. Clouds moved lazily in the early morning sky. She marveled that the scene was so peaceful after the destruction she’d witnessed the other night.
She felt the loss of her home. The place she’d felt the safest all her life. The only place she’d known as home all her life.
She felt the loss of her things. She only had the clothes on her back, and they weren’t her favorite. They still had the stains from when she’d been gardening the day before.
More importantly, she’d lost all her journals, her favorite books, her CD collection, irreplaceable picture albums of her family. All gone.
The loss hurt. But one thing remained true. She still felt in her soul that her brother’s heart was beating.
