Carolina Man by Virginia Kantra Read Free Book Online Page B

home a war zone.
    His discipline was absolute and arbitrary. His professional frustration found relief in drinking and outlet in a senseless, ceaseless battery of orders, inspections, and foam-flecked, screaming rages on the parade ground and at home.
    As a child, Kate had tried desperately to please him. But no matter how clean she kept the house or how well she did in school, nothing was good enough.
She
was not good enough. She could not make up for her father’s career disappointments. She could not fix his drinking.
    She could not wait to get away.
    And she never went back.
    She fought a shiver.
    Luke watched her, his blue eyes unreadable in the twilight. What did he see? How much had she betrayed?
    “You want to reconsider that drink now?” he asked.
    She laughed, relieved because he was kidding. Not that she would ever, under any circumstances, drink as a response to stress. But he was dropping the subject, and that was good. “No, thanks. I really should get going.”
    “You’re welcome to stay. There’s plenty of food.”
    For a moment, she was tempted. Not just by the tantalizing aroma of slow-cooked ribs, but by the warmth of a real family. By the simmering heat in Luke’s eyes.
    She shook her head. She wasn’t good in personal, social interactions. She had no guide for normal behavior. And she hated to guess. “I shouldn’t intrude.”
    “Bit late for that,” he said. “For both of us.”

Four
     
    L UKE SAW THE light under Taylor’s door as he went up the stairs.
    She has nightmares
, his mother said.
    Poor kid. Luke could sympathize. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. Two A.M. , four A.M. , regular as clockwork, he woke with a racing heart and gritty eyes and a stale taste on his tongue. The Corps trained you to kill, but nobody trained you how to deal with it. In your dreams, you never remembered the ones you saved, only the ones who died.
    He wondered what Taylor dreamed about. Her mother, probably.
    Hell.
    He hesitated outside her door, tension knotting his muscles. Should he knock? It didn’t seem right that there were at least three adults downstairs who knew more about putting his daughter to bed than he did. Kate’s words popped into mind.
Now that you’re back, the Simpsons will argue that you don’t have a relationship with Taylor. A continuous, meaningful relationship
.
    In the short time he’d been home before, they hadn’t had the chance to establish a routine. Taylor hadn’t seemed to need anything from him then except to be left alone.
    He didn’t have a clue what she needed from him now.
    He took a deep breath and rapped softly on the door before opening it.
    A flurry of movement exploded from the bed before Taylor flopped back against her pillows, clutching her covers to her chest like she was hiding something.
What?
Christ, she was only ten. What did she have to hide?
    Her face was all red, her blond hair sticking up all over her head like corn silk. His desert-colored utility cap rested on the pillow by her head. Luke’s heart turned over helplessly in his chest.
    Tucking his hands into his pockets, he wandered into the room. Fezzik looked up with a doggy grin, thumping his tail against the braided rug. So that explained the sudden movement from the bed. The dog probably slept with her. Must take up half the mattress.
    He rubbed Fezzik’s head and then straightened. “Hey.”
    Taylor watched him with wary, narrowed blue eyes. “Hi.”
    This close, he could see the cords trailing from her ears. An iPod. He hadn’t given her an iPod, he thought with a twinge of guilt. He wondered who had.
    “What are you listening to?”
    She pulled out one ear bud. “Music.”
    He waited, but apparently her answer had exhausted that topic. He glanced around the room. “You all settled in here?”
    She nodded.
    The room, his mom’s old sewing room, was as neat as a soldier’s tent. No posters on the walls. No stuffed animals. No dolls. Maybe