Page 28 of Make Me Trust Again (Bluebonnet Creek #3)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHASE

I blink my eyes open, but they’re blurry. The mix of sand, sweat, and blood clouds my vision as I fight for breath. Every bone and muscle in my body aches as I try to figure out what has happened.

There was a blast.

Pain and darkness.

Blissful darkness.

My ears are still ringing from the explosion, the relentless echo that makes my skull throb incessantly.

I can feel the darkness creeping up on me again, trying to pull me in.

Maybe I should let it.

A loud groan pierces through the ringing, snapping me out of it and returning me back to the present.

To the agony coursing through me, like a fire burning from within.

My stomach rolls, bile rising up my throat, suffocating me. I try to swallow it down and force my eyes to open. The motion seems to take forever, but I don’t give up. I can’t give up.

When I can see through the haze, I take in my surroundings.

There’s metal and bodies scattered everywhere.

Unmoving.

Groaning, I press my palm down and push myself upright so I can see better.

The first body is lying face down, not even a yard away.

My arm gives out on me, but I grit my teeth and push upright again. My legs won’t move. I glance down, noticing the blood seeping through the cuts in my uniform.

Cursing under my breath, I force myself to move. Every inch of space I pass is agonizing, but I focus on the person in front of me.

One of my brothers.

Don’t let him be dead.

Don’t let him be dead.

He can’t be dead.

I chant those words as I crawl my way to him. We were laughing just moments ago, talking about going back home. They can’t be dead.

Not when we’re so close.

I blink furiously, trying to clear my vision. I’m not sure if it’s sweat, blood, or tears that are sliding down my face at this moment; it may be a mix of all of them, for all I know. However, the only thing I can focus on is getting to my team.

I don’t know how long it takes me to get to the first bo— person. That’s still a person. I can’t give up on them. Not yet.

Time seems to have stopped moving. My breathing is ragged, chest heaving as I turn them around, only to find a pair of hollow eyes.

Gone.

Gavin Durran was gone.

I punch at the ground, “Fucking hell.”

Still, I don’t have the luxury to stop, so I continue moving. Checking body after body.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

I spot the last one.

“Foster.”

I still don’t see my best friend.

Or what is left of him.

I silence the voice coming from the back of my mind as I look around until I spot him.

His arm seems to be at an unnatural angle. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Broken bones will heal.

I push myself to the brink, my only thought is about getting to him as fast as I can.

“Foster,” I call out when I get to him.

His eyes are closed, his face full of cuts and bruises. His uniform is torn from the blast, a dark red color coating his jacket on his right side.

“Foster, wake the hell up.”

My fingers grip his shoulders and jerk him relentlessly as more blood soaks his shirt.

Then his eyes fly open, anger shining in their brown depths as he glares at me. “It’s all your fault.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I sit upright. My arms are shaking as the dream replays in my mind on a loop, my heart hammering wildly against my ribcage. Sweat coats my skin, making my shirt stick to my back.

I swallow hard, but my mouth is dry, my breathing ragged. My ears are ringing, but even so, I can hear a low whine coming from my left. I curl and uncurl my fingers, trying to regain some of the composure as I push the memories away.

My living room.

I’m in my living room.

Not in a freaking desert.

Home.

I’m home.

Shadow nuzzles my hand with her snout. I uncurl my fingers, gently patting her on the head. She licks my wrist, still whining. I spread my fingers and sink them down her neck, into her fur, letting her sharp hair ground me.

Slightly calmer, I take in the space. The TV is still playing, the soft light from it illuminating the dark room.

A quick look at the clock on the wall tells me it’s almost midnight.

The sound of the firearm blasts from the speaker, making me jerk.

An action movie, it’s just an action movie; is that what brought back the memories?

Hardly.

Lately, they’ve been more frequent again, the nightmares coming almost every night, more vivid than ever.

My lungs feel tight, the walls of the room narrowing in on me, making it hard to breathe.

Out.

I need to get the hell out.

Pushing upright, I ignore the pain at the sudden movement, my focus on one thing and one thing only.

Slipping into my shoes, I go for the back door, Shadow on my heels. The moment I get on the porch, I tilt my head back, sucking in some fresh air. Although it’s late, the June night is warm, and there is a heaviness in the air.

I tap the side of my leg, calling Shadow to follow after me.

I don’t have an idea of where I want to go; I just know I can’t stay inside for a second longer.

I need to move. I know there’s no escaping the memories, not really, but I’m still going to give it my best try.

God knows I won’t sleep anytime soon. I have a hard time sleeping on a good day, falling asleep after a nightmare? Forget about it.

I walk around the barn and toward the woods.

The ringing in my ears has subsided enough that I can hear the moving of the animals around me.

The insistent chirping of the crickets, the soft buzzing of a handful of fireflies, and even a low hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance.

I’m just about to move deeper into the woods, toward the treehouse my father built for Becky, when a trickle of light coming through the darkness of the trees catches my eye.

Slowing my steps, I glance toward the cabin, and sure enough, the light coming from the kitchen is on, but that’s not what demands my attention. It’s the form of a person, a woman , sitting on the porch.

What is she doing up?

Ever since they moved here, I’ve not once seen the light on in the cabin this late.

Shadow brushes against my leg as I just stare at Rose Hathaway sitting on the porch in the darkness. Her legs are curled on the swing; her arms wrapped around her knees.

Did she fall asleep like that?

The position looks uncomfortable as hell. Besides, she shouldn’t be sleeping out on the porch anyway. Sure, we’re secluded out here, but you never know when somebody might stumble out of the woods, animal or person alike.

I curse inwardly at myself as I watch her. I should turn around and continue on my way. Let her be. But for some reason, I can’t look away. I can’t leave her alone. It’s like my feet are glued to the ground. I hold my breath as I just stand there and watch her.

Her head is pressed against her knees, hiding her face from my view.

Maybe she really fell asleep after a?—

Then I see it.

Her shoulders are shaking softly, and although I can’t hear it, I know she’s crying.

My fingers curl into a fist as a surge of anger rises inside me.

What the hell happened to make her cry?

I’m not sure if I made a sound or moved, but suddenly, her head snaps up.

The faint light coming from the kitchen illuminates her face, making the tears streaming down her cheeks shine brightly. She sucks in a breath, those doe-like eyes staring at me. They’re slightly red and puffy. Her lips move, her voice so low it’s barely reaching my ears.

I move closer, my gaze follows the tears running down her cheeks. Clenching my jaw, I focus on those pink lips. “What happened?”

If her ex is bothering her again, there will be no stopping me from making good on my promise. Not like it would be a problem. The guy’s an asshole of epic proportions.

“It’s nothing.”

Nothing, my ass.

“I’m calling bullshit on that one.”

“I’m fine.” Rose shakes her head and looks away, quickly brushing away her tears. “What are?—”

Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m closing the distance between us.

Considering the darkness, her soft voice, and having her face averted, I don’t catch the end of her sentence, although I can see her mouth moving.

I slip my finger under her chin. Her body freezes as I gently turn her toward me, my thumb rubbing over her jaw.

For a moment, time seems to slow down. Her lips part slightly in surprise as a jolt of electricity zaps my fingers. Those blue eyes widen, making me wonder if she can feel it too. This connection sizzling between us. The thread that seems to be pulling us together whenever our paths cross.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” I ask again, my voice coming out gentler this time.

Once again, the endearment falls off my lips naturally, and I don’t allow myself to overthink it as I wait for her response.

I take her in, trying to see if she’s hurt in some way, which is the wrong thing to do because, for the first time since I got here, I actually look at her.

Her hair is loose around her shoulders, falling in soft waves.

She took off her makeup, which makes her seem younger somehow, more vulnerable.

Her cheeks are flushed, the soft rise and fall of her chest making the silky material of the sorry excuse for her shirt move, the light color shining in the darkness with each intake of breath.

She lets her legs fall to the ground. The matching shorts are so damn small that they show off those long, tanned legs.

Stop staring at her legs, Williams.

It takes everything in me to return my gaze to her face and force my fingers on her chin to stay relaxed.

“You’re crying, so don’t you dare tell me you’re fine. Is everything okay? You’re not hurt?”

She shakes her head silently, her throat bobbing as she swallows.

Some of the tension in my chest loosens at her reassurance, but not all.

“Kyle?”

It’s the only other reason she could be crying that I can think of. Rose’s strong and fierce, and she loves her son with everything in her. But then, would she be sitting out here if something is wrong with Kyle?