Page 9

Mindy is curled up beside me in a little ball sleeping. Her hands are under her chin, and she looks so peaceful. She sleeps like a baby when she’s with me, and my stomach tightens with protective warmth. This girl.

She’s as fucking beautiful as she ever was. As I predicted, she went from being a pretty little girl crying in the field to this stunning woman with gorgeous curves, flashing green eyes, and wicked sense of humor.

I want to slide the chestnut wave off her cheek, but if she opens her bright green eyes, I don’t know what might happen. It’s morning, and I’m a healthy thirty-one-year-old man.

A man who knows to make the right decision and leave her alone. Mindy doesn’t want this life, and she sure as hell doesn’t need to deal with my shit. Joining the Marines was supposed to help me escape the past. Instead, it only heaped on more baggage.

I understand why she came here last night. I know the pain of losing your dad. No matter how many years pass, the anniversary always stings like hell. When she kissed me… Her soft lips, her smooth, velvety skin… I could taste the wine on her breath, and I wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerable state.

Dealing with women is not my strong suit—it never was. They’re always talking, always reading shit into situations that Just. Isn’t. There.

Mindy’s not like that.

When she put her hand in mine that day, something happened between us. It’s like a strange connection…

Or maybe it’s just me.

Still, I can’t resist touching the side of her hair, carefully, so as not to wake her. She wears it in long, sleek waves now, and if I bury my face in it, I’ll be surrounded by her scent of fresh air and lilacs. It’s fucking irresistible.

It floods my mind with memories…

I was a little drunk the night I finally lowered my pants and took her—with her saying yes, yes the entire time. It makes me grin remembering.

Her spiral curls fell around us like a bubbly waterfall, and her small breasts bounced as she rode me… shit, I can still feel her in my hands, I can still remember the marks on her skin from my kisses. She shook and moaned so loudly when she came, I’m pretty sure it was the best orgasm of my life.

It was a desperate craving we’d denied from the time she was sixteen and started noticing me in the way I’d been trying not to notice her. She was nineteen, and I was leaving for who knew what might happen in the Marines. It was such a fucking relief to finally give in and be together…

And on that note, I slide my ass out of bed and grab my jeans, my henley, and my boots before I do something I’ll regret.

I’ll finish dressing in the bathroom then meet Taron at the truck. We’ll head to the Denny’s restaurant at the truck stop off Interstate 220. It’s where the farmers meet this time every year to divvy up the transient workers and decide who gets the rotations first.

We always get priority, since the peaches follow Mother Nature’s schedule, and they have to be harvested now. There’s also the Peach Festival and the annual onslaught of tourists who double the size of our small town for a week to eat peaches, peach ice cream, peach fudge, peach cider, peach bread…

God, I’m so sick of peaches.

Standing in the bathroom mirror, I rub my hand across my face, over my cheeks and down to my jaw. Leaning closer, I look deep into my hazel eyes, straining to see I can see the shadows, the darkness lurking there.

After our ordeal in Mexico, the Marines did something they never do—they sent us all home.

It was a rescue mission. Our friend Marley was kidnapped by a band of thugs on a routine fuel run, and Taron, Patton, and I were assigned to get him back. When we found him, he’d been tortured almost to death.

Getting him out, Taron fell and suffered a pretty bad spinal injury. Marley almost died. They got purple hearts. Patton and I were given medical discharges, and I was told to see a therapist once a week until he or she released me.

Only, I wanted to stay.

I wanted to be a Marine…

Now, looking deep into my eyes, I search for their diagnosis—PTSD, possible suicidal tendencies…

It was a diagnosis that sent a chill down my spine. I’d watched Noel struggle with the ghost of my father’s actions, but I pushed back on the notion that demon could be lurking inside me as well…

Straightening, I clear the tension in my throat and push that shit away once more. I don’t care what they say, I’ve got responsibilities.

“This fucking wakeup call never gets easier, I swear.” Taron meets me at the truck with two silver travel mugs in his hand.

I only nod.

It’s too early for conversation, no matter how chatty he feels. He complains, but he’s a morning person one hundred percent.