The other reason? The one I’ll never tell Rafe, even though he’s my best friend?
I’m hoping this little offering, of sorts, will make her smile.
Because I miss it.
I kept her smile tucked into my memories, dragging it out when I was feeling the most down. When my insecurities would come roaring back with a vengeance and the lure of retreating to my solitary life was hard to resist. Then I’d think of Bea and her beautiful smile. I’d remember the lilt of her laugh and the pride that would shine in her eyes when I’d accomplish one of her goals.
That smile got me through a lot.
And now that she’s here, selfishly, I want to see it again.
Realizing Rafe’s still waiting for my answer, I quickly reply, “I checked on her after lunch, and she said she was fine. But…” I shrug.
He nods. “Fine doesn’t always mean fine.”
“Right.” Unfortunately, I learned that the hard way from Eden. “So I just figured… she might like some stuff to cook with. It might make her feel more at home.”
Rafe stares at me for a second, a knowing look in his eyes. “Gotcha.” He pauses. “Well. Eden’s making tacos for dinner. And I’ve got these—” he jerks his chin towards the bouquet in his hand.
“You’d better hurry, then.” I clap his shoulder. “And tell Eden I said hi.”
He smiles. “Will do.”
I watch Rafe as he walks away, his step light and cheerful, so different from the man who never went anywhere without looking like he was on a life or death mission. Which, to be fair, was often the case.
He’s still like that on our jobs, of course. We all are. Because the habits drilled into us in the Army are too deeply embedded to break. But the instant Rafe sees Eden, his demeanor shifts. He’s not a soldier anymore, but a man in love.
While I walk towards Bea’s apartment, I spin the word in my head.
Love. I know what it means, of course. I know what it looks like. And I know how it can leave a person devastated when it’s gone.
Like my mom. She lived for my dad, and when he passed, she fell apart. Her occasional bouts of depression turned into months-long stretches when she barely left the house, and, on some particularly bad days, she wouldn’t even get out of bed.
Looking at love that way, it didn’t seem all that great.
But it works for plenty of people. Like Eden and Rafe. All my friends at the Sleepy Hollow and San Antonio branches of Blade and Arrow. My old teammate, Cillian, who recently found love after a stretch of his own struggles.
Me, on the other hand…
I snort softly at the unfortunate pun.
What woman would want a man who has to touch her with metal and carbon? A man who has a scarred stump where his lower arm used to be? A man people will always stare at, wondering what happened to him and sometimes, even rudely asking outright?
Once I reach Bea’s front door, I take a deep breath and forcibly shove the negative thoughts down. Because now isn’t about me. It’s about seeing if Bea’s okay.
Shifting all the shopping bags to one arm, I rap on the door with the other. And though I know there’s a camera right above the door, so Bea can see me, I still call out, “Hey, Bea. It’s Indy. Is it a good time?”
When she doesn’t answer right away, the now-familiar worry resurges.
Is she in pain? Was there a complication? Is she having a panic attack? Did I wait too long to come check on her? I wanted to give her some time alone after the meeting, so I worked on inventorying the medical clinic on site before heading out to the grocery store, but maybe I should have stopped by sooner.
Or maybe she can’t hear me. I don’t really know how good the implants are for hearing sounds like this. Maybe at home she has a special doorbell that lights up when it rings. Or an alert on her phone.
Shit. I should have asked.
I’m just fumbling for my phone to look up cochlear implant accessories when the front door jerks open. On the other side of the doorway, Bea stands there, looking slightly flustered but otherwise okay.
“Sorry to take so long,” she says. “I was in the bedroom, and I wasn’t sure if someone was at the door or not. And then I had to get all the locks open.”
