He has us.
He has me.
And on day two, when he’d calmed enough to talk, he’d told us to stop trying to find people who might care and never to try again. Whatever happened. He made us write the instructions on his records, just in case we overstepped—his words, not ours.
What else could we do?
I couldn’t help but wonder what had driven the wedge between him and his family. Had it been because he’d decided to enlist? Or had something deeper fractured their bond long before that? Or had they feared the changes war and experience would bring? Were they scared of him? I’d seen it all before—families unsure how to welcome back the person their loved one had become. Where washis contact in the army? Deceased? Injured? Maybe out there in as much pain as Tyler?
“What about your family?” Jazz asked.
I rubbed a hand over my chin, debating whether to step in and say something before Tyler spun out. But then, Tyler chuckled, low and bitter.
“Not really close,” Tyler murmured, his voice carrying a weariness that spoke volumes. The weight of whatever had happened settled between them, making it clear this wasn’t about Alex and Jazz rekindling love, something I could meddle in or push forward. This was edging toward Tyler’s past and the fractures that had shaped him—his battle. Maybe he’d tell me one day. Or not. Either way, this wasn’t my place to intrude, and I backed up to the door I needed to go through.
Thankfully, Carl appeared on the other side of the door, waved his card, and let me back out, and I left so fast it was as though my tail was on fire.
“You’re an idiot,” Carl observed after the door closed.
“Noted.”
The next daywas as busy as always but, after lunch, when Abbie called Guardian Hall looking for Alex, things got interesting. Someone had abandoned a box of kittens at the rescue center, and she needed help. I checked where Alex was, and the visitor room alarm flagged his location. Without hesitation, I made my way there.
I knocked on the door, and when Alex answered, his lips were swollen, a hint of beard burn shadowing his mouth. He was a little sheepish, and I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t say a word, but inside, I was celebrating—finally, Jazz and Alex were getting somewhere. Maybe I didn’t need to meddle after all.
Jazz’s daughter’s visit must have gone well because Jazz was beaming, his face flushed a deep shade of scarlet—something I hadn’t seen in a long time. The pure joy radiating from him was almost contagious, and I felt an unexpected lump in my throat. Relief settled in my chest, heavier than I expected. At last, things were falling into place in ways I hadn’t dared to hope.
I forced a serious expression onto my face, though all I really wanted to do was grab both of them by the shoulders and shake them in celebration. They had come so far, and damn it,they deserved this happiness. I kept my mouth shut because this was their moment, not mine. Still, I couldn’t help but let the corners of my lips twitch upward a little.
“Alarm said you were in here, and I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said. “But Abbie’s asking for help at the rescue center. A box has been left there.”
Alex nodded. “Let’s go,” he said to Jazz, who nodded in return. So damn cute.
They sidled past me, and I nudged Alex’s arm. We had an entire silent conversation before they headed out to the animal rescue place that was part of our rehabilitation program. I headed back down to the office, phone in hand, until I met Tyler on the stairs as he headed up. Suddenly, I knew the office could wait a few more minutes.
“Hi,” I said as I stopped a step above him, careful to stand to one side in case he thought I was preventing him from moving away. This brought us to eye-level, closing the distance between us, and for the first time, I fixated on the depth of his dark blue eyes. Up close, they were striking—stormy, intense, filled with something unreadable yet impossible to turn away from—a shade that could be mistaken for midnight in one light and deep ocean in another.
Since when did I wax lyrical about a man’s eyes?
I was a one-and-done back room of a club or pay-by-the-hour motel kind of guy, releasing some of the tension from work with one-night stands. Not poetry and staring into another man’s eyes, for God’s sake.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, dipping his head as if he could escape my gaze. “I don’t like people staring,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I was looking at your?—”
“I know what you’re looking at,” he snapped, his voice edged with resentment, resignation, maybe both. Temper laced his words, but vulnerability was beneath the surface. “And I don’t need any more doctoring.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“No, I get it; burns like these scare people, make them think how bad it must have been over there for my face to look like this.” He huffed out a breath, shaking his head.
“Tyler, stop?—”
“I thought you were better than that. So how about you pretend you don’t see them or me, okay? It seems to work for everyone else.” As he made tomove past me, instinct kicked in. I shifted, blocking his path before I could think better of it. He stiffened, his eyes snapping to mine, and for a moment, I knew I’d just made a mistake, and I stepped back, hands raised.
“I just—can you just listen for a second?” My voice was softer now, careful, but Tyler’s body was tight with barely restrained frustration.
“I’m fucking angry right now, okay?” he yelled.
