“No shit. Did you really expect her to?”
“Denise, I’m trying to make this right. I was an asshole. I know that. But I can’t apologize if I can’t talk to her. The clinic said she called in sick. I don’t have her grandmother’s number and I don’t know who else to call.”
Silence.Please, Denise, help me. More likely, she was planning how to chop up his body. Just in case, he came clean.
“I love her. I fucked up. I need to fix it.”
Denise sighed. “She’s at her gran’s. Haven Springs Village. Villa 42.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t make me regret this.” She ended the call.
He rushed through a shower and brushed his teeth. Sweeping his fingers through his wet locks, he got dressed and grabbed an apple from the counter. He looked up the directions for Haven Springs Village on his phone as he got in his truck.
Jase pulled into a visitor’s parking spot a few doors down from Villa 42. After taking a deep breath, he got out and walked down the landscaped path to the small cottage. He opened the screen door, but hesitated before he knocked. Doubt assailed him. How would she react to him being there? Would she see him? Let him apologize? He steeled his courage. It didn’t matter. He would make this better. Had to. There was no way he would let her go without a fight.
The door opened before he could bring his knuckles down.
“Hello, Jase. Would you like to come in?” Vivienne Coffee’s polite invitation was the last thing he expected.
“Thank you, Mrs. Coffee.” He followed her in and closed the door behind him.
“Call me Vivienne, dear. Have a seat. Is iced tea alright?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat at the small kitchen table and watched her bustle around. He glanced around the well-appointed villa. Across the open floor plan, he spotted Bree’s service picture on the mantle in the living room and went to take a closer look. A younger Bree stared out from the silver picture frame. Her cut just below her ears. Her face serious, as all basic training pictures tended to be. He studied the other pictures on the mantle. Bree as a child and a teenager. A picture of a man in a World War II-era uniform. Her grandfather.
On the center of the mantle, in a place of prominence, sat a framed Bronze Star medal with a Valor device. Next to it, the citation. He picked it up, stunned to see Bree’s name on it.
CITATION TO ACCOMPANY THE AWARD OF THE BRONZE STAR WITH V DEVICE FOR HEROISM IN ACTION AGAINST AN ARMED ENEMY, WHILE SERVING AS A CULTURAL SUPPORT TEAM MEMBER DURING OPERATION ENDURING FREEDOM.
“She’s an extraordinary woman.” Vivienne interrupted him before he could finish reading the citation. “But then, you know that already.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He set the frame back on the mantle. Damn, he owed her a huge apology. He’d been a self-righteous ass.
He joined Vivienne at the kitchen table and accepted the glass she offered him.
“She’s sleeping right now. I checked on her when I heard your truck drive by.”
He nodded, not sure where she was going to take the conversation.
“I’ll be honest. I’m hesitant to let you see her. She hasn’t been this withdrawn since she came back from Afghanistan — after that happened.” She pointed toward the citation on the mantle. “The fact that you’re here speaks volumes, so I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what she told you about last night, but I messed up.” He looked down at the glass in his hand.
“She hasn’t told me anything. She showed up last night with Polly and Charlie, so I knew things were bad. She came out this morning for breakfast and went right back to bed.”
“I’m guessing she wouldn’t want to leave her dogs by themselves with everything that’s been going on.”
Vivienne cocked her head and considered him for a moment. “Jase, dear, Polly is a therapy dog. Bree got her when she was diagnosed with PTSD. She helps Bree cope when her emotions overwhelm her. Or when she retreats into herself.”
Jase rocked back in the chair. He’d had no idea. How many times had he watched Polly lean against Bree. His brow narrowed. Each time Polly had stuck to Bree, she’d been upset or stressed. “I didn’t know. She just seemed like a sweet dog.”
“Oh, she is. Bree doesn’t rely on her as much as she used to. She hasn’t had to.”
Jase raked his hands through his hair. Guilt and regret crashed against him like storm waves against a rocky coast. At least this time he could do something about it. “Can I talk to her?”
“Down the hall, on the left.”
