“Gabe—”
“Stay down,” he growled, voice not totally his. Not totally present.
Her mind battled to catch up to what just happened. The noise. The firecrackers. Then Gabe throwing her into the nearest alley and covering her with his own body.
Like he would take a bullet for her.
Her own heart stuttered—had she missed a threat? The break-ins, the missing journal…
Her hand was shaking when she brought it up to touch his face. He clamped her fingers in his. God, his hand was icy cold.
And he was shaking. Not violently, but enough.
Anotherpopsounded from the street, followed by the sound of kids laughing.
Gabe flinched, and understanding hit Felicity like a blow.
Oh god.
“Gabe.” She lifted her free hand to his cheek. “Look at me.”
He was frozen. Didn’t move.
She slid her fingers upward, gently, to frame his face. “Look at me. Gabe. It’s Felicity. It’s us. You’re safe. I’m safe.”
As if her words brought him back from some shadow realm, his breath hitched. His grip tightened around her hand.
“Marines are the first in.” His voice fractured. “And the last out. That’s why they call us devil dogs.”
Her heart broke into as many pieces as his quavering tone.
Slowly, she lifted her head just enough to touch her forehead to his. “You’re not there,” she whispered. “You’rehere. In Willowbrook. With me. It’s Mayfest. Those kids had firecrackers. That’s all.”
His chest swelled against hers as he dragged in a deep breath. With agonizing slowness, his rigid frame loosened. His pulse eased to a more normal rhythm.
He blinked hard once, twice, banishing whatever war-torn ghosts still clung to him.
Finally, he let out a harsh exhalation and rolled off her into a sitting position, back against the cool brick. She sat up too, knees bent, brushing dirt from her palms.
From the street, they probably looked like a couple sneaking away from the fair to steal a private moment and a few kisses.
He dragged a hand over his face. “Christ, bookshop. I’m so damn sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Her eyes widened. “Embarrass me? Gabe, I think I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t realize—”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” His voice turned sharp with self-directed anger. “Most people don’t. That’s why I didn’t come to town very much when I was in the program. I can’t always trust myself to not—” He cut off, jaw flexing so hard it looked like it could slice through his skin. “I’m too broken."
She moved slowly, touching his arm lightly. “Hey. Look at me.”
He did.
“You’re not too much. You’re not broken. And you didn’t embarrass me.” She jerked her chin toward the street where a certain apron-wearing gossip queen hustled past. “See? If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s her. Did you see how much powdered sugar she had on her apron earlier?”
A faint, reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. He huffed a chuckle. “You’re amazing.”
“So are you.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “And the fact you risked this”—she gestured to his trembling hand—“to spend an afternoon with me? That means everything.”
Silence unfolded between them with an underlying electrical charge that had more to do with emotions than desperate desire. It was different…and yet totally perfect.
