Rats.“Yeah, well ... yeah.” He firmed his stance. Switched tactics. “We might be separated, but I still love her and want her to get well. Maybe I can help with her recovery. She doesn’t have anyone else. I mean her mom ... yeah ... sure. But she has dementia and there’s no way she could look after Addy. She needs a full-time caregiver as it is.”
Patsy’s expression softened.
“Speaking of her mom.” He stepped closer. “Do you know if anyone has called her? Or what about Bear? Our dog. Has he been fed?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should ask. She needs to know. And ask about the message too.” His mouth went dry and he grabbed his mint tin, opening the lid and offering one to Patsy first. She shook her head, her expression relaxing.
He popped a mint into his mouth, the strong peppermint exploding on his tongue. He felt like he’d succeeded in gaining her empathy. He just needed to go in for the close.
“I’ll wait here. I promise.” He shoved the mints back into his pocket and dropped onto a chair to emphasize his point. “See. Right here.”
“Fine.” She clenched her hands and released them. “I’ll talkto her, but if you show up in the room, Iwillcall security and have you thrown out.” She glared at him. “You might be this big tough guy, but you don’t scare me.”
She planted her feet, looking like a tiny Chihuahua attempting to be a Great Dane, and he had to fight hard to keep his mouth from quirking into a smile.
“I’m grateful for your help, and I won’t move a muscle.” He leaned back on the cold vinyl chair and propped his leg on his knee, trying to appear casual when his gut was screaming at him to go racing down the hall to see Addy. At the very least stand outside her door to defend her. Keep her safe from any other harm.
Patsy gave him one last lingering look, a warning mixed with disapproval, before she spun. Her shoe squeaked on the tile, and she marched away with solid footfalls.
Alone now, he had nothing and no one to keep his mind busy, and worry curled into place like a snake taking up residence in his brain. He couldn’t lose Addy. He just couldn’t. Sure, he was the one who broke things off. He’d woken up from a flashback to his Middle East deployment, and he had his hands around her neck. Choking her. Her eyes wide and bugged out. Red-faced. Gasping for air.
Then he’d had to look at purple-and-green bruises circling her delicate neck for weeks. Bruises he’d put there. She didn’t blame him. Even so, it was his fault. He’d refused to acknowledge his PTSD and then let it get out of control instead of seeking help. He’d been going to counseling since that day. He’d gotten things under control. Pretty much anyway. His focus was now on God and how He empowered people. Mack had been focusing on the Bible verse in 2 Timothy—“For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” His mantra now whenever things went south. Over and over he would repeat it.
But honestly, he still didn’t trust himself. Maybe that meanthe really didn’t trust God. Because if he really believed this verse, he wouldn’t lose his cool, would he? When he was overworked and tired, he was still very vulnerable to the effects of PTSD.
And what if he hurt her again?
No.He could never do that. Never take the risk. They just couldn’t be together until he figured all this out. That was final.
Chapter 6
ADDY LAY BACKand closed her eyes. She tuned out the beeping of the monitors, and the IV needle pinching in the crook of her elbow. The blood-pressure cuff on her bicep and the oxygen monitor on her finger. All of it. Forgot it all. So she could concentrate. Figure out what was going on.
The doctor said Addy needed to rest her brain, but how could she rest when a strange man had shown up to say he was her husband, and she had no recollection of him? None. Not one tiny hint of a memory.
But shehadcalled him, or at least he claimed she had. He would soon join her to play the message. So shedidknow him, but did she know him that well? As in his wife?
She sighed a long breath, and her lungs felt like they were collapsing and she couldn’t pull in enough oxygen to keep going. The medical trauma mixed with this emotional trauma was just too much, wasn’t it?
She was getting a glimpse into her mother’s world. She lived in a fog like this all the time. Not remembering. Getting upset when someone presented themselves and she didn’t know them. Addy being one of those someones.
A knock sounded on the door. Addy’s eyes flashed open. She tugged up her sheet and blanket to her chin, protecting herself from this man. “Come in.”
The door creaked open. As if in slow motion, he entered. He stopped just inside the door. “Thank you for seeing me.”
She started to nod, but pain lanced through her head so she stopped. “Just for a few minutes.”
He gave a sharp nod and crossed the room. He had a confident swagger—powerful, as if he didn’t let anything get in his way. She looked at his face. His eyes. There the confidence evaporated. Instead, uncertainty mixed with a deep, abiding pain. He’d been hurt. Badly. By something. And it drew her to him as if being pulled by an invisible magnetic field.
He moved a chair close to her bed and straddled it. His muscular arms came to a rest on the padded back. He dug out a tin of mints from his pocket and offered her one.
She found it odd, and yet something niggled at her brain that mints were a hint to his personality. What kind of hint she had no idea, and it likely didn’t matter, so she refused one and left it alone.
He tossed one in his mouth and got out his phone. “May I play the message for you?”
“Go ahead.”
