He sat back too, one long leg stretched out. She sat close to Church before, but now she was more aware of him than ever, from the long muscle of his thigh to the bulge of his bicep.
“You’ve been carrying all of this by yourself.” His gritty voice drew her gaze to his face.
She nodded slowly. “I didn’t really have another choice.”
“What about other family members?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t like Matt. They wrote me off when I married him. The military became my family. The wives, my sisters. The guys, my brothers.”
His lips compressed.
She reached over and lay her hand over his. Not because she was playing a role on the set of a movie but because she needed to make contact.
“Now I have someone who believes me.” The realization that this man, Grant Upchurch, had listened to her and immediately started protecting her instead of doubting her made her chest ache.
He turned his hand over and threaded their fingers. “We all believe you, Zee.”
She stared at their hands. His was large and callused, bearing the old, whitened traces of scars. A capable hand. A beautiful hand.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to do anything.” He stroked his thumb over hers, sending a bolt of heat to her stomach.
He gestured to the takeout containers. “You make room for that cobbler yet? You don’t want to miss out.”
She smiled into his eyes. “I think I did.”
She didn’t immediately release his hand—she wasn’t ready to let go. But when the sweet blueberry goodness hit her tongue, she groaned.
“Told ya.” He spooned a bite into his mouth.
They finished the last bites and set their containers aside.
“Thank you, Church. For everything.”
He lifted a hand toward her face. Her heart leapt at the thought of his warm, rough fingers on her skin. But he just closed his fingers around a lock of her hair and gave it a small tug.
“You’re not fighting this alone anymore.”
The low grittiness of his voice sent a ripple through her chest.
Outside the window the pasture had gone dark and the ranch lights flickered on one by one. Zee leaned back into the couch cushions, a strange and unfamiliar sensation of relief seeping into her bones. For the first time since the day the officer had stood on her doorstep and told her Matt wasn’t coming home, the weight on her shoulders didn’t feel quite so heavy.
Chapter Eight
Church hadn’t slept.
Not really.
He’d stretched out on the couch with every intention of closing his eyes, but the moment the room went dark, his body went on high alert in a way that had nothing to do with security.
It was her.
Being ten feet away. Knowing she was in his bed.
Ever since he invited her to stay with him, each night was the same. He drifted off in short bursts. Ten minutes here, half an hour there. Every time he woke without knowing why until he realized the hard-on he’d gone to sleep with was even harder.
He stared at the closed bedroom door, his mind dragging him straight back to the same place.
