Page 23

Twenty-Three

Dash

She already knows me. Gets me.

It’s a little uncanny how intuitive she is—how thoughtful.

Even in the midst of her own trauma, she’s cognizant of mine.

And I fall a little harder. A little deeper.

I’m already tied up in knots over this woman, ready to do anything and everything to keep her. This instinctive empathy is going to do me in.

“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “This was my spot. For the first few months after Colt died this was the only place I could breathe. He loved the water so when I was here I felt like he was with me.”

“That must have been so painful,” she whispers, leaning closer to me.

“I can’t even…” Damn, even now, four years later, it’s hard to talk about him. Think about him. Remember him. “I still hear his voice sometimes. His laugh. The way he’d grunt when we used to wrestle and fight… It’s been four years but I still reach for the phone sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine your loss.”

“And the guilt. I know it’s not my fault.

He made a unilateral decision. The Special Forces thing is hardcore, and you have to break all ties for a while if you want to be able to focus.

But out of all of us, I’m the one who understands all that.

I lived part of it with him, so not telling me what he was going to do hurt. ”

“He knew you were meant for something else,” she says gently. “And he was afraid you would follow him into whatever hell he was going to.”

“He was right, I guess. If I’d known, I would have gone too. I could have—should have—been with him, had his back.”

“Maybe, but there’s every possibility that it wouldn’t have been enough and now you would both be dead. And Frankie would be down two uncles instead of just one.”

I never thought of it quite that way.

“Yeah… I mean, Banks, Atlas, and Royal would have made sure she and Briar lacked for nothing, but I would hate not being in her life.”

“So maybe Colt did you a favor, in his own way.”

“I just wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye. We didn’t leave things on good terms. He just…left. Without a word. I didn’t know he’d gone until after. He had some money, assets… asked me to take care of things in case something went bad.”

“Did he leave everything to you?”

I frown for a second. “He left everything to Briar and me, split equally. Since he didn’t have any family, and the other guys didn’t need it, his letter said it would help Briar get her start in life and would help me in whatever I planned to do after the military.”

“Did it?”

“Help me start my security firm? Yeah. And when Frankie’s dad left them high and dry, it came in handy for them too.

Again, the four of us were never going to let them want for anything, but I think she liked having something that was hers.

That she didn’t have to ask us for. Then Atlas hired her and she took that bull by the horns. ”

A faint smile touches Willow’s lips. “So Colt left part of him with you. And if you still think about him, hear his voice in your head, then he’s always with you.”

“It’s getting harder,” I admit. “I think about him, and I can still hear his voice sometimes, but other times… I start to forget. Now that we’re all busy and successful, taking care of Frankie, doing our own things—I don’t think about him as often.

And I’m scared that…” I break off, unwilling to say the words aloud.

“Scared that you’ll forget him?” She squeezes my hand. “Never. You know that. He’s part of you.”

“I have videos—from college and when we were in the military together—so I play them sometimes… to make sure I keep his memory alive.”

“I’d love to see one sometime. So I can meet him too.” Her voice is soft, filled with genuine interest.

“Would you?” I stare at her as she nods.

I get out my phone and open the app where everything is saved.

There are lots of videos. Not as many as I would have liked, but we were always doing dumb shit in college. I want her to “meet” the real Colt, though. Not drunk Colt, or obnoxious hockey player Colt.

Christmas .

Our last Christmas together.

We’d been in Afghanistan that year, unable to get home because we were supposed to be separating from the military in a few months.

“Here,” I say, pressing the button. “We recorded this for Briar and the guys.”

“Merry Christmas, guys!” My voice comes on first and Colt pops up from behind me, shirtless and wearing a Santa hat.

“Merry Christmas, you fuckers!” he yells. “Except Briar. Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

“Sorry we couldn’t get home for the holidays,” I continue.

“But we’ll be home in time for your graduation, Briar!” Colt is grinning, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And I have a present for you.”

“I hope you got the stuff we ordered,” I say into the camera. “It wasn’t much but we wanted you to know we were thinking about all of you.”

“Hey, they get to see my cute face,” Colt interjects, laughing. “What more do they need?”

I watch as I roll my eyes, shaking my head at him. “Put a shirt on, you loser.”

“Why? My nips offend you?”

“Shut up.”

Our banter was second nature—even when filming a holiday video for friends and family.

“By the way—the cookies were awesome, Briar,” Colt says, nodding. “I had to hide a few before fatso here ate them all.”

“Fuck all the way off!” I say, elbowing him.

“Ow!” Colt yelps, grabs his side, and pretends to collapse in pain.

“Asshole…sorry, gang. Anyway, we just wanted to send this so you’d have it when you wake up, because we have to go on patrol soon.”

“Hey, for real, we’ll be home in April,” Colt says, popping back up, “and I’m looking forward to some ice time together, boys.

I’m about done with this desert heat. Oh, and maybe more cookies—because they’re really the bomb, Briar.

Thank you.” And for a few seconds, he’s being completely serious and sincere, something we didn’t see from him very often.

“We miss you,” I say. “And we’ll be home soon. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, everyone. Miss you.”

The video ends and I feel a weird scratching behind my eyes.

Fuck .

This is why I don’t watch the videos very often—it hits me right in the gut every time.

“He was handsome,” Willow says softly. “And funny.”

“Yeah, he was a hoot. And the ladies seemed to agree with your assessment.”

“Thank you for playing that for me.” When I look up there are tears in her eyes too, but she’s smiling. “I think I would have liked him.”

“He would have liked you too.” I smile fondly. “He would be giving me so much shit right now… you’re sleeping with Willow St. Claire? What the fuck, dude? She’s way too hot for you…”

She giggles. “Well, if he were here, I would set him straight about that. I happen to think you’re incredibly hot, Mr. Dash.”

I lean over and brush my lips across hers. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Always.” She grins, then her expression goes serious and she puts her hand on the side of my face. “I like that I can be here for you the way you’ve been there for me. And I’m really sorry about… earlier.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I should have asked you if bondage is something you’re comfortable with. I figured since it was me, just my hands holding yours, it wasn’t like you were actually restrained. But I should have asked. And I apologize for that.”

“He used to…” She huffs out a breath.

“What?” I ask gently. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know. It’s just…hard to think about.”

“Tell me what he did so I can make sure I never even come close to doing the same things.”

“It would never be the same with you,” she whispers, lowering her gaze.

I don’t say anything, giving her time to gather her thoughts. My chest is tight again, like it is every time she talks about him, because I can’t imagine having this sweet, gorgeous, giving woman in your life and your bed, and mistreating her. For no apparent reason.

“He used to tie me up,” she blurts, her fingers suddenly icy cold in mine. “He would… have sex with me and then… leave me there. Sometimes until the next day… until Mrs. Wilkes…” She cuts off and horror fills me.

The urge to hurt someone—not Willow, never Willow—is so strong I have to start mentally counting to ten.

What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with that guy?

Someday, some place—I’m going to make him pay for every single time he hurt her.

“I would never do that,” I say, my voice thick with emotions I’m struggling to understand. Not just the fury at the way he treated her but also my own need to make sure no one hurts her ever again.

A thought tickles my psyche—a story she told me about Dylan forcing her to work out even when she had walking pneumonia—and the possessiveness that washes over me is impossible to deny.

I’ll do anything it takes to protect her from him.

“I know.” She still won’t look at me. “I just remembered… the first time… Mrs. Wilkes came in and I was naked… on the bed. Spread eagle. And she acted like it was no big deal. Like this is something he does all the time. The only reason she went and got Dylan to let me go is because I told her I was going to pee all over the bed.”

“Mother—” I try to hide my anger, so she doesn’t think it’s directed at her, but it’s infuriating.

“I’m sure that was his plan… to get me pregnant. To just keep me in bed until it was too late.”

“He’s never going to touch you again,” I vow. “You have my word on that, Willow. I will end him before he can ever lay another hand on you.”

I’m a thousand percent serious too.