Especially this week.
The one-year anniversary of the worst night of his life.
“Looks like it,” Rush said, his voice carefully neutral as he tugged the door open. “Take care, Dale.”
Before he could escape, Dale clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. Rush went still, bracing himself. His vision tunneled for half a second, just long enough for the world to tilt.
Cold water. A child’s scream, high and piercing.
“Hey, son, I’m real sorry about what happened. I know this week is hard for you, what with the memorial coming up and all. Saving that little girl… Well, you’re a hero in my book. Hell, in everyone’s book.” Dale hesitated, his throat working like the next words were harder to say.
“I know it don’t feel like much of a victory, not when her mama didn’t make it.” Dale’s voice trailed off, his eyes misting as he patted Rush’s shoulderclumsily.
The word “hero” landed like a gut punch. Rush’s jaw locked, his grip on the truck door handle turning white-knuckled.
He didn’t deserve that word. He hadn’t earned it. Hero implied he’d done enough. But no matter how many people insisted otherwise, he knew the truth. He’d fallen short, and nothing could change that.
And he sure as hell couldn’t show up at that memorial and pretend otherwise.
Rush blinked hard and nodded at Dale. “Just doing my job,” he said hoarsely, keeping his eyes on Riggs. The dog’s ears tilted forward, sensing Rush’s unease, and he sat up at attention.
Dale’s expression softened into the kind of pity that made Rush’s stomach churn. “Well, I know Pop must be proud of you too. You Callahans—always stepping up when it counts. Don’t let it weigh you down, son.”
Rush nodded tightly. He swung himself into the cab, the worn leather bench seat creaking under his weight. That look—the one everyone in town gave him—was suffocating. That was why he needed to get the hell out of there.
“Enjoy that cabin.” Dale’s face split into a grin. “Your Pop and I had a hell of a time up there back in our day on our hunting trips.” He pounded the top of the truck with a hearty laugh. “You be careful up there, and keep an eye on this storm. They’re saying the Adirondacks are gonna get hit hard later today.”
Riggs stuffed his nose in Rush’s jacket and searched for a treat as Rush pulled out of the gas station. Rush handed him one absently as he pulled up to the stoplight at the end of Main Street and checked his phone.
Three missed calls.
He didn’t need to see the numbers to know those calls were from his sisters. Again. He let them go to voicemail, like he hadthe last time. The light was taking forever, as if the universe wanted to test his patience. He sighed, leaning back against the seat, counting down the minutes until he was on vacation.
The church doors burst open.
Rush straightened in his seat as a woman in a big puffy white dress came flying down the steps. She was all tulle and panic, her veil streaming behind her like a parachute.
Rush’s instincts as a soldier jerked into place; immediately he was on high alert.What the hell?Northfield did not have runaway brides.
But this one was running straight for his truck in a mad dash with her skirt lifted high on her long legs. Her high heels wobbled in the snow as she raced down. Rush’s eyes caught on a white band circling high on one of her slim thighs.
“Aw, hell,” Rush muttered as the woman slammed both hands on the hood.
Lily Hart stared back at him, her eyes wide, her chest heaving nearly to overflowing in the tight white satin wedding gown.
Rush dragged his eyes away from that sight and swore viciously under his breath. He recognized that look. He had two sisters. Wild. Exhilarated. Trouble. He didn’t want any part of this, not today, not ever. He was getting out of town, not rescuing runaway brides.
Except… she just stood there, those damn enormous eyes staring at him like he was the only thing standing between her and whatever awaited behind her at the church.
“Help.” Her lips formed the words. They weren’t audible, but they were enough to punch him right in the gut.
Shit. That was all it took. One word. He could never ignore that word, especially coming from a woman.
Riggs barked once, breaking the silence.
“Down,” Rush said firmlyto Riggs.
The dog’s head tilted to the side, and Rush imagined an“Are you shitting me?”look on his face, but he jumped down from the passenger seat to settle on the floorboard obediently.
