Page 13 of Anything for You (Veterans of Silver Ridge #7)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dorian

T he knock came early Sunday morning.

When Bear let out a cheery woof and jumped in a circle, I knew to expect someone he liked. Opening the door to find Dove standing there in an oversized T-shirt with a giant Dolly Parton face winking back at me and shorts slightly longer than the hem of the T, my heart rate picked up to a jog.

“Hey, good morning. I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought you might be an early riser, and I wanted to check in and see how you are.

Not that there’s anything wrong with you, you know, but just because yesterday was a lot, and I know—” A wide, pained smile stretched across her face.

“Sorry. I tend to babble when I’m nervous. ”

I waited, not sure what to do. Invite her in? There wasn’t quite a question in her speech, and suddenly, I couldn’t remember what on earth to say .

She pressed her hands together and laughed, head dropping in a show of chagrin before turning those bright blue eyes of hers back on me.

“Can I start over?”

Still wordless but interested, I notched my chin down.

She bit her bottom lip lightly, then smiled genuinely before straightening her shoulders, dropping her hands to her sides, and pushing out her chest a little as she lengthened her spine, and raising her chin. “Good morning, Dorian. How are you today?”

This, I could do. “Good. You?”

She grinned. “I’m good, too.” Her faced dropped, smile easing into something more thoughtful. “A little bruised up, I think.”

“Are you hurt?” I asked, right as Bear finally lost his self-control and slipped past me to greet her.

She instantly dropped down to one knee to pet my giant dog.

“Oh, hello, Sir Bear. You are looking so handsome today. Have you been keeping your dad company?” She spoke so sweetly to him while her hands stroked over his head and back.

“That’s what he gets paid for,” I said, sounding oddly irritable.

Her face tilted up to mine with one raised brow. “And is the pay fair?”

God, she was cute. That thought wasn’t helpful, and I hadn’t moved past her earlier mention of pain. “Are you hurt? You said you’re bruised?”

She tsked. “Well, my feet are not happy with my shoe selection from last night. But otherwise, I’m fine. I more meant…” She whispered something like “good boy” to Bear, then stood and gave me her eyes. “Emotionally bruised? ”

The way she said it sounded like a question, but I understood what she meant.

At least I thought I did. And though I’d never have a conversation like this with someone I didn’t know out of the blue, Dove and I had shared some oddly vulnerable moments in the last few months, so this didn’t seem outside of that pattern.

Stepping out onto the porch, I gestured to the swing and two large chairs. She almost skipped toward the swing.

Knew it. Don’t ask me how, but I knew she’d choose the swing.

I took one of the other seats. “It’s bittersweet, to say the least.”

This time, her smile was more subdued. Almost pensive, she pushed back with her toes and let the swing rock her back and forth.

“I’m so happy for them. Truly just… heart bursting with joy for these dear friends.”

I nodded, hearing the “but” without her having to speak it. “All that brightness can end up casting a shadow on the places that feel most tender.”

Like she said, that bruised feeling.

She blinked back at me. “I thought you might get it.”

I dipped my chin. I did. More and more, the strange combination of happiness for my friends and wistful longing for myself tangled inside me. I’d done a lot of work on allowing for two emotions to exist in me at the same time, and I accepted the duality applied to this situation.

“One thing my therapist talks about all the time is how we can feel more than one feeling about something. I have a personality that wants to figure out how I feel about something, address it in some way, and move on. But these last few years, I’ve been learning how complex and messy a lot of life is. ”

She continued pushing herself back and forth on the swing, still anchored by her toes, eventually finding my eyes and sending a dropping sensation straight to my gut when she held my gaze.

“What kinds of things?”

I shifted, patting Bear’s head where he sat by my legs. He might like Dove, but he could tell my energy was off in some way, so he wouldn’t sink down into full repose just yet.

“Biggest one is probably my time in service and something that happened there. I was in for fifteen years so it’s not easy to sum up anyway, but I wanted to compartmentalize it.

For some people, that means taking whatever experience or expertise or trauma or whatever you have and tucking it away into a different room or a closet where the door can close and lock.

You only address those things when you choose to open the door again—if it works right.

For me, the way I thought about it was like a labeling system.

I could endure anything as long as I could process it and give it a label.

Good. Bad. Evil. Worthy. Painful… whatever.

I could make sense of whatever I needed to if I could slap a label on it and move on. ”

She waited, not interrupting or asking questions. Just leaving me space to talk. As chatty as she tended to be, she could be so quiet and present.

I shrugged, not embarrassed to have talked too much, but not wanting to drag this out. “Long story short, it’s not that simple. And I’ve found I agree with the idea. Still challenging to not get frustrated when things feel conflicting, but I think it’s wise to… allow it, if that even makes sense.”

“It does. I mean, rude, because that’s hard, but it does.” She offered me a small wink, and we both chuckled.

“I think you’re doing a good job,” I said, wanting to give her something. Needing to, since I could feel the way she ached, even from here.

Her lips pressed together, and she grimaced. “I don’t know about that.”

“You are. I don’t see everything, but I saw you yesterday. You were present. You were celebrating. Having other emotions but not letting them ruin your ability to be in a moment like that? You’re nailing it, Jensen.”

She laughed, a genuine smile spreading wide and creasing her cheeks. “Nailing it, huh? Well, you are, too. Kenny was so happy to have you there.”

I nodded. He’d sent me a text last night to say as much and I had no doubt he’d be reiterating that for a while. “Thanks for understanding when I left.”

But what I really should’ve said was, Thanks for knowing what I needed without me saying it.

Thanks for being so observant. Thanks for being gentle with me, not making the moment harder than it already was.

Thanks for taking a little of my load and telling my best friend I had to leave his wedding reception because I couldn’t tolerate so much input for so long. Just… thank you.

“Don’t mention it. No big thing,” she said, waving it away.

The impulse to argue and say it had been a big deal to me rose up, but I resisted. Part of accepting where I was now and where I’d come from was trying not to apologize for asking for what I needed or doing the things that allowed me to function.

Dr. Corrigan would be so proud. I’d likely tell her about this at our next session.

Wanting to get far away from my social limitations, I shifted forward and fiddled with Bear’s collar so I could ask as casually as possible, “Are you free today? ”

Her movements on the swing halted. “I am. What do you have in mind?”

What did I have in mind?

Strangely, my heart thudded, almost dragged in my chest. An image of my hand on her face, my thumb taking her chin and tilting her just right, just how I wanted her, then dipping to capture her mouth flashed through me.

Shock followed instantly, and I cleared my throat, scrambling for something other than relaying exactly what I’d just had in mind. “Want to pick some blackberries?”