Page 94 of Cowboy SEAL Homecoming

Chapter 22

It was no shock Alex woke up in a damn foul mood. Sure, sex was supposed to lift a man’s spirits, but when a perfectly wonderful night was ruined by the shadows and ghosts of his past…

“Fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face, hard and unflinching. His behavior last night was all too clear in his head.

He didn’t know how he could have done it differently. Not in the middle of a terrifying nightmare that was both memory and fiction. The smell of flowers and Becca. The smell of explosives and death.

It had all been too wrapped up together when he should have been able to sleep, or at least dream lightly enough he didn’t wake her. Didn’t stir up that damn pity.

He wanted her pity less than he wanted just about anyone’s.

He just wished he’d had the presence of mind to handle it better. He just wished he’d been able to avoid the way she’d hugged him, kissed him, told him it was all perfect.

What a lot of patronizing bullshit. Someone waking you up with their fucked-up nightmare wasn’t perfect. In any world.

But he could either lie here and dwell on it, beat himself up over it, or stand fast in his conviction that leaving her room had been the right thing to do. He’d gotten out of there so she could sleep, so she could do it without him thrashing around or whatever he’d been doing.

That was the problem. He didn’t remember. None of it was clear until he’d been crouching on the ground and she’d been reaching out to him. Before that it was all a mist of explosions and blood and yelling, Mom’s voice weak and shaken—none of it real.

At least, not real in this time.

But whatever. A nightmare was a nightmare, and maybe he’d keep having them and maybe he wouldn’t. Sadly, he couldn’t control his subconscious. But he could try to wear himself out so completely it didn’t win.

He’d work out this morning, then this evening as well. He’d force his body to do things he hadn’t done since his initial training days. Then surely, surely, he would sleep normally again.

Maybe if he did all that, he could fathom sharing a bed with Becca, but until he could get through a night without the plague of ghosts, he wasn’t sharing a damn bed with her.

She had to give him the space to fix himself. He tried not to think about the disappointment he’d undoubtedly see on her face. Or worse, that pity. Oh, she wanted to disguise it in help and holding and comfort, but it all boiled down to pity that Alex Maguire wasn’t half as tough as he should be.

He would not stand for it. He didn’t have to. No rules, codes, missions. Just him and what he wanted. He did not want that.

He forced himself out of bed and pulled on clothes. He’d grab some coffee, maybe take a run around the ranch or something to get the blood pumping, and then he’d go to work. Because even if everything with Becca last night up to the nightmare had been damn near perfect, it didn’t mean he got to ignore work.

There was a lot to do before winter. A whole hell of a lot. Once that work was done, things would fall into place. He was sure of it.

He trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen, stopping short when he realized the figure pouring water into the coffeemaker was Becca.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Hi,” she offered, smiling. Sort of. Not one of those full-wattage things, which made him feel like dirt.

“Hi. I mean, morning. I mean…” Seriously, what was wrong with him? He was not some tongue-tied teenager. “Neither of the guys up yet?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen.”

Okay. So that was fine. The guys were still sleeping and Becca was making the coffee and he…

Needed to stop being a baby. He opened his mouth to ask something inane about breakfast, but she started speaking at the same time.

“Sorry,” they said in unison.

Christ, this was like high school. When she didn’t speak, just stood there looking flushed and fidgety, he took a few steps forward.

“Sleep okay?”

Her gaze met his for the first time, and those green eyes held all sorts of emotions that poked at all the reasons he should never have let last night happen. It seemed inevitable he would hurt her now, and that sucked.

Except nothing is inevitable if you work hard enough.

“Not really,” she returned, clasping her hands together, then letting them go, then clasping them again. “You? I mean…after?”