A Soldier for Keeps by Jillian Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

like soda bubbles through her system. She knew exactly how hard and dependable his chest was. Memories of being in his arms flooded her. While she held herself as stoic as possible, she could not forget how safe she had felt, how cozy and protected.
    Not that she was attracted to him. She was definitely not looking for love, but the idea of being carried by him tonight felt a little bit like tempting fate. Best to keep things as they were and let the memories of his capable arms sheltering her fade away into forgetfulness.
    If that were possible.
    “I’ll be careful.” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was referring to the floor or her out-of-place feelings. Either way, she concentrated on going slow and making sure the rubber tips of her crutches were solid before each step forward. The problem with going so slowly was that Pierce stayed by her side, a steadfast protector against the bump of the crowd and any sudden fall.
    “I owe you big-time.” He held the heavy glass door for her, raised his face to the wind and let the rain batter him. “Ah, freedom. The truck isn’t far from here. I’ll drive you home.”
    “I’d rather walk.” She glanced sideways at him as she navigated the wet concrete. “I’m not fooled. You liked the music.”
    “It’s not my favorite, but it wasn’t half-bad. Don’t tell my sister that. I’m trying to discourage her at all costs.” The occasional snowflake tumbled to the ground with the rain. Looked like winter had blown itself out. “She means well, but I’m trying to keep the trip a good one.”
    “Why? I thought a soldier like you wouldn’t hesitateto face fire head-on.” Some people could have said that judgmentally or in argument, but Lexie’s alto was pure gentleness. She simply wanted to understand.
    It had been a long time since someone on the home front had. Maybe that’s why he felt his defenses lower enough to let his feelings in. “I’m only here for a visit. I want to keep things with my family good. Before he died, Tim hadn’t done that. He’d come home for a break, argued with them when they asked him to step down, and he died before he could make it right.”
    “And that’s why your sister is giving you the full-court press?”
    “Yep.” He listened to the rush of the rain in the street and the tap of it pattering against his jacket. The wind blew damp and icy, but when he shivered, it wasn’t because of the cold.
    “How did he die?” Her question came softly, easing past every shield he’d barricaded around that memory.
    He smelled blood as it inched down the side of his face—nothing serious—and felt the grit of sand in his eyes. The grenade compression echoed in his ears, making the pop-pop-pop of machine-gun fire merely background noise.
    He heard their point man shout, “Incoming!” Heard Hawk quip, “So much for our covert op,” and as RPG tracer fire flashed like a laser in the dark, he saw what his brain had been trying to tell him. Something was wrong. Way wrong. He cleared his throat and brought himself back to the present.
    “Tim was hit by enemy fire on a rescue mission.” He put the brakes on the memory and the grief. “I was supposed to have been watching his back, but he fell right in front of me.”
    “You feel responsible.” Not a question, a statement, kindly spoken, as if she not only knew the answer, but the depth of it.
    His soul still bled. “I do.”
    They were silent as they crossed the street, cleared of snow, puddling with rain.
    “It wasn’t your fault.” Her faith in him rang softly but unshakable.
    “It feels that way.” The memory rolled forward again, like a DVD on-screen, in the middle of a scene. The sounds of war faded. The spit of bullets into the wall next to him held no threat. All he could see was Tim on the ground, still and silent. Time had jarred to a stop. His heartbeat had crashed to a halt. The only thought in his mind had been denial. Tim couldn’t be down. He was fine. He would get