One wrong move, one wrongtouch, and she might spontaneously combust.
Or, you know, have myself a richly deserved meltdown.
“Can I come in?” she called with her lips close to the door.
When Doc didn’t respond, she pressed her ear against the cool wood. All she heard was more splashing.
Maybe he didn’t hear me,she thought. The poor beach house cracked and moaned as it withstood the hurricane-force winds. It wasn’t nearly as hellacious as it’d been when the eyewall passed over, but still…
Raising her voice, she called again, “Dalton? Can I come in?”
She waited for him to tell heryes, come right on inorno, fuck right on off.
She was prepared for either, honestly. If he was half as out of sorts as she was, he might want company with whom to commiserate. Or he might want to process the trauma alone.
What shedidn’texpect was for him not to answer her at all.
Hmm.Stepping back, she gnawed on her bottom lip, unsure what to do next.
Should I take his silence as an invitation or discouragement?
John had told her to go after him. John had said he needed her. But what if John was wrong? What if what Doc needed was…
Fuck it, she decided, never one to tarry long in indecision.He can always kick me out if he wants to.
The metal doorknob was cool against her palm. “I’m coming in,” she said even as she pushed open the door.
Doc was on his knees beside the tub, vigorously washing specks of blood from his forearms with water from the five-gallon paint bucket the others had filled and left for use in flushing the toilet. The three-wick candle burning on the windowsill cast the small room in a golden glow and highlighted the pink froth Doc had worked up over his wrists.
She could only see his profile. But that was enough to show the muscle in his jaw ticking fast enough to beat the band.
“A-are you okay?” she asked softly, and then quickly retracted her question. “No. Sorry. That was dumb. Of course you’re not okay.”
“After I left the Navy, I promised myself I’d do everything in my power to never kill again.” His voice sounded raw, painful. “I promised myself I’d hang up my handgun. And you’ve known me what? Five months? Six?”
“Six and a half,” she supplied and silently added,But who’s counting? Oh, right. Me. Because every day since the day you walked into my life has felt…portentous.
She could admit that now. That from the very beginning she’d known he was different from the men who’d come before him.
“And in that time I’ve killed two more men.”
Her mind traveled back to the mid-ocean plane crash and the little island they’d been marooned on afterward. To the boatful of strangers who’d stormed onto the beach. And to the big man Doc had been forced to put down with one fatal shot.
She shook her head. “You didn’t have a choice either time.”
“There’salwaysa choice.”
“Okay.” She knew her expression looked perturbed. “But when the choice is kill or be killed, I don’t think it reallycountsas a choice, do you?”
“I can’t get away from it, Cami.” When he turned to look at her, a lone tear spilled over his bottom lid to trek down his tanned cheek and get stuck in his beard stubble.
That broke her. Seeing the man she loved broken absolutelybrokeher.
Her own inner turmoil was forgotten and she was down on her knees in an instant. Taking his face into her hands, she gently thumbed away that single tear that was so much more powerful because of its loneliness.
“Maybe killing is like catching the chicken pox or something.” He swallowed loudly. “Maybe once it’s in your blood, it never really goes away. It just follows you around for the rest of your life waiting to rear its ugly head.”
“You don’t believe that.Icertainly don’t believe that. Six and a half months ago, you did what you had to do to save me. And tonight, you did what you had to do to save all of us.”
