Taking Heart Read online

  Dylan looked away and Julia looked from one to the other, knowing she was missing something. Some sort of communication was passing unspoken between them, and they were leaving her in the dark. Dylan went from being completely relaxed to pissed in a matter of seconds. Roscoe sensed it as well and was already nudging Dylan’s arm, trying to get his attention.

  “What’s going on, Chase?”

  “He wants to leave in order to lure Evan into the open. He was hoping him being here at all might do that, but Evan is smarter than he gave him credit for.” He scowled at Chase. “Now he wants to be more aggressive. You think if you leave Julia unprotected, he’ll come out of the woodwork.”

  “If you didn’t agree with me, you wouldn’t be this pissed off, would you?”

  “I’m not leaving her here to get hurt. You’re an ass for even suggesting it.” She felt Dylan’s hand tighten over hers, almost painfully. Roscoe tried to climb into Dylan’s lap. “She’s not a puppet to lure him out. You’ve already put her in enough danger.”

  “I’m trying to keep her safe. That’s why I’m here.” Chase leaned forward in the chair, and Gracie immediately sat up, watching the two men intently. “The sooner we put Evan away, the sooner she’s safe and the two of you can have a real life.”

  She felt the shock radiate through Dylan, like a current from one man to the other, and it immediately diffused his temper. They had yet to talk about the future, and the fact that Chase had just confronted him with the idea was enough to bring him back from the rage he’d been heading toward.

  Julia rose quickly and pulled Dylan to his feet. “We can talk about this tomorrow, Chase,” she said quietly. “Enough for tonight, okay?”

  She pleaded with her eyes for him to understand that this wasn’t something they could talk about now. She made her way toward the hallway. Chase clenched his jaw as they walked past him, and she felt the tension flow through Dylan. Roscoe whined and continued to nose his hand as Julia pushed him through the door to her room and closed it behind them.

  Dylan paced the room, running his hands over his head, unable to calm the storm she could see raging in his eyes. “Dylan?” Roscoe jumped up in front of him and knocked him off balance. When Dylan ignored him, Roscoe jumped onto the bed and put his front paws on his shoulders. “Talk to me.”

  “It was bad enough that he insisted on staying here in the first place, knowing that might put you in jeopardy, but to deliberately try to put you in harm’s way. I’m going to kill him.”

  “Dylan, stop,” She moved in front of him, much the way Roscoe did, and put her hands on his chest. “He’s not suggesting anything I haven’t already thought of. What has you so pissed about this?”

  “Because I can’t protect you alone.”

  His voice broke at his confession, and Julia realized the crux of his anger. He wanted to be her hero, he was using her to redeem himself of what had happened in the past. Dylan hadn’t been able to save his brothers during the attack on their base, and he wanted to assuage his guilt by protecting her. In his eyes, if he couldn’t do that, he was a failure. Again. She took a step back from him.

  “I didn’t ask you to protect me.” She only wanted his heart, for him to love her. Was he still just doing his duty and fulfilling his overburdened sense of honor? Was she nothing more than another responsibility he’d taken on?

  “I know you didn’t ask. But it’s what I do. The only thing I can do.” His voice trailed off, and she felt her heart crumble in her chest, like wasted ash after a blazing fire had consumed all it needed. He met her gaze and she saw the dejection there, and she realized the truth. He thought she was weak, a victim. He didn’t have faith in her to take care of herself.

  “I don’t need your pity, Dylan.” Tango moved to her side and buried his head against her hip. “You came to me for help, remember? I was doing just fine.”

  “Julia, that’s not what I—”

  “Yes, you did.” She held up a hand, not letting him speak. “I’m not your penance, or your second chance. I don’t want to be where you find your worth. That’s too much weight for any person to bear. What happened to you, to the other men in your unit—it was horrible, but don’t make me your project.”

  Dylan’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration.

  The way she felt about him was real. She loved him, but she wouldn’t be a pawn to help him feel better about himself any more than she would be a plaything for Evan’s sick game. “You don’t even see it, do you?” She shook her head, her heart aching as she bared it to him. “Protecting me from Evan is just a way for you to feel like the man you used to be. You’re not the same man, Dylan. Life has changed you.”

  “I liked the man I was,” he snapped, his voice quiet but dangerous. “I worked hard to become that man. I was strong, and capable, and someone people could rely on. They trusted me.”

  Her body reacted to his words without permission from her brain, and she moved toward him, her hand cupping his jaw. “You are still that man, Dylan.” Her eyes misted with unshed tears. She was unable to hold them back when she could see the agony in his tense stance. “You may not see it, but I can. What you’ve been through has made you even more than you were. You’re stronger now.”

  Dylan clasped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her toward him. One arm wound around her waist while his other hand moved to her face. He put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “You don’t know, Julia. You didn’t know me before.” His breath came in ragged gasps, as if he was trying to gain control of emotions that had long since gone wild. “This is not who I was.”

  “Maybe not,” she agreed. “But this is who you are now, and until you learn to accept that, with all the strengths and flaws you bring to the table, there can’t be an us. Not now or in the future.”

  She moved away from his touch and felt as if she was ripping her heart from her chest with a dull blade. The physical ache was unbearable as she forced herself to take a step back. Then another.

  “You aren’t afraid you can’t protect me, Dylan. You’re afraid of what happens after this is over. There is a future after this, and it scares you so you’d rather run from it than face it. You wanted to run from it when you first arrived, and apparently you still want to.”

  Julia walked to her door and opened it. “I’ve always had people who wanted to protect me, Dylan, but sometimes things happen and you can’t be sheltered from them, even ugly things. What I wanted was someone who understood what I’d been through. You still want to live in the past, to make up for what is already gone. I can’t live there any longer.”

  DYLAN STARED AT Roscoe, unable to watch Julia walk out of the room. He could feel the rage scratching inside him, clawing its way to the surface, dying to be released, to get out and ruin whatever he might salvage of this relationship. He left her room, unable to see the reminders of her around him. The anger, the rage, was choking him, hot and cloying, enveloping him like thick smoke from the ruins of his life. He slammed the door to the room she’d given him and ran his hands over his head, fighting to keep the beast at bay.

  His eyes scanned the room for something to hit, or throw, some way to release this animal inside, ripping at his chest. He didn’t want to feel. This is what he’d tried to hide from, was still trying to hide from. This was what he’d avoided by withdrawing from everyone over the past year. No amount of special ops, macho bullshit was going to make this ache disappear. His skin was hot, his scars throbbing with pain he hadn’t felt since he’d arrived here. All of him felt raw, like an open wound that couldn’t heal.

  His eyes fell on the pill bottles, most unused since his arrival, sitting like sentinels on the top of the dresser. Those were one answer. He heard Roscoe scratching at the door, trying to find a way in, but ignored him and picked up one of the bottles for sleeping pills. What he wanted was to disappear, to find that dark oblivion he’d had before.

  Before Evan, Roscoe, or Julia. Before he did the one thing he swore he’d never do
again—hope for more. Hope for a real life again. He flipped the lid from the pills and dumped several into his hand. Just for tonight, just to help him sleep.

  Julia was right; he was running away, escaping into the painful nothingness that his doctors had so willingly offered because they didn’t know a better way. And it had worked. Before. But now, the thought of sleeping, of lying down without Julia’s soft curves tucked against him, held no appeal. There was no going back, no escaping. She’d shown him he wanted more, and no pill was going to take that desire away. He hurled the pills at the wall, watching them scatter to the floor.

  The anger in him snuffed out, like a candle in a hurricane.

  Roscoe’s insistent scratching had quieted, and Dylan felt as if the entire house had gone suddenly silent. He opened the door, feeling physically exhausted from the mental battle he’d just waged. It wasn’t over, but in not shutting down, in forcing his demon to retreat, he’d won a small victory.

  Roscoe looked up at him, and Dylan could see the accusation in his eyes. How could a dog make him feel so guilty? He patted his hands against his stomach and Roscoe jumped up. Dylan rubbed his ears and over his head.

  “I’m sorry, boy, but this was something I had to do alone.”

  He realized the truth of the words as they fell from his lips. As much as he needed Roscoe and Julia, she’d forced him to face his reality—there was a future, whether he wanted to accept it or not. Leaning over to pick up the pills, his eyes fell on Julia’s door, praying that he hadn’t waited too long or cut her too deeply.

  JULIA SAT UP in bed, staring into the darkness of her room, unsure of what woke her. A low growl came from Tango, lying at the foot of her bed. His ears were perked and alert, eyes focused on her closed door. She heard a muffled sound, like someone talking, and slipped from the bed, pressing her ear against the door. Tango whimpered quietly as he jumped down and padded to her side. This soft growl wasn’t his normal warning, so she didn’t think there was an intruder, but something had stirred both of them.

  She cracked her door open, rubbing at her eyes, still sore from crying herself to sleep, and heard the voice again down the hall. Tango looked up at her before slowly creeping down the hall ahead of her, stopping at Dylan’s door. She hadn’t seen him since she walked out of her room earlier that night. It had nearly killed her to stand her ground, knowing she was doing what was best for both of them, and walk away when what she really wanted was to fall into his arms and make love to him until he forgot about the future and the past.

  But that’s what they had already been doing. Pretending the future didn’t exist, that there wouldn’t come a time when one of them had to make a decision to move forward or die of suffocation. Since the attack that left her in the hospital, trying to recover from the head trauma Evan inflicted, Julia had quickly learned if you weren’t moving forward you were falling backward. She couldn’t go back. She’d worked too hard to put the past, and the worst of her PTSD symptoms, behind her.

  She knocked quietly on Dylan’s door, but when she heard the quiet whimper from Roscoe, she opened it a crack. She felt her heart sink when she saw Roscoe standing over Dylan, nudging him with his muzzle insistently with no response. Dylan struggled in his sleep, thrashing against the sheets wound tightly around his legs, hitting Roscoe in the ribcage. The dog whimpered again but ignored the pain, trying to wake Dylan, shoving his nose into Dylan’s ear and pawing at his sweat-soaked chest.

  “Tango, stay,” she commanded. Julia flipped on the light while Tango whimpered in the doorway. She hurried to the side of the bed, calling to Dylan quietly, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. “Dylan, wake up.” She saw his eyes fly open, but they were glazed over, as if he couldn’t really see her. “Dylan?”

  Julia reached for his arm, her fingers sliding over his slick skin as he jerked away from her. His other arm swung around as he sat up and grabbed her before she could react. Tango and Roscoe began barking immediately, and she saw Tango lean toward the bed. Dylan ripped the sheets loose and flipped her onto her back on the bed, straddling her, holding her down with one hand against her chest. Seeing him pull his fist back, she screamed his name. His eyes cleared, finally focusing as Roscoe jumped against him, knocking him off balance and to the floor.

  Julia gasped for breath as Tango stood in the doorway, barking frantically but not breaking his command to stay in place. She scrambled from the bed to Dylan’s side as he sat up and touched his fingers to the side of his head. He looked at the blood on his hands dumbly. Julia reached for the sheet on the bed to stem the blood flow.

  “You’re going to need stitches.”

  Roscoe jumped to the floor and began licking Dylan’s face, but he pushed the dog away.

  “God, Julia.” He reached out to her and she flinched, instinctively jerking backward. “What did I do?”

  “I’m fine.” She helped him stand, leaning his weight against the dresser, but she took a step back once he had his balance.

  “I hurt you.” He didn’t have to ask. She’d seen the redness where a bruise would form below her throat, and her sternum ached from where he’d held her down. She doubted he’d miss it. His eyes fell to the top of her chest. “I did that, didn’t I?”

  She could read the agony in his eyes, but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t deny what he’d done, even in the midst of a flashback, any more than she could reassure him that it wouldn’t happen again. His eyes lifted to the door, where Gage and Chase stood, looking inside. The men were silent, but both seemed to realize what had happened.

  Gage looked at Julia compassionately before moving forward and looping Dylan’s arm over his shoulder. “You’re going to need stitches. Chase can take you to the ER.”

  Julia glanced at Chase as she followed the pair into the hallway to the bathroom. Dylan looked at the wound in the mirror, ignoring his brother’s attempt to talk him into going to the hospital.

  “Get me a Steri-Strip and the glue from the kit. I’ll be fine.” He watched Gage walk out of the bathroom, and then his gaze met Julia’s. She could feel him silently pleading with her.

  She wanted to go to him, to tell him they could work through this, but she was afraid. Afraid he wouldn’t believe her, afraid she would be lying, but more than anything, afraid that she’d made the same mistake again. She ducked her head and walked back into her room with Tango at her side, shutting the door behind her. If only she could suture her bleeding heart as quickly as Dylan could his head.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “JULIA?” THE QUIET rap on the office door wasn’t unexpected, but she was surprised to see Gage enter. “Hey, can we talk for a second?”

  She bit her lip. “I really need to return these calls.” She pointed to a stack of old messages she’d never thrown away, hating that she was lying to him to avoid talking about Dylan.

  Gage picked one off the top of the pile and scanned it. “From three months ago?” He arched a brow at her. “Hiding, huh?”

  “No,” she denied, ashamed to admit the truth out loud. “Selectively avoiding reality.”

  Gage dropped into the worn couch opposite her desk. “I see. Because of this morning?”

  “Why else would I be?” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice. Tango opened one eye and raised his brow before returning to his nap. Julia sighed. “I know nightmares are all part of PTSD. Trust me, I’ve had more than my fair share. I still do.”

  “But it isn’t the nightmare that’s keeping you in here, is it?”

  Julia covered her face with both of her hands and rubbed her eyes, taking a deep breath. How could she explain it to Gage, or Dylan? How could she confess that the anger she’d seen him fighting, his violent rage during his flashback this morning, was reminiscent of Evan’s attack, and she couldn’t willingly put herself in that position again?

  Gage leaned forward on his elbows. “Julia, that was a flashback. His body was here, but his mind was there. Dylan would never deliberately hurt you.”


  “Not deliberately,” she agreed, her hands moving to her arms, avoiding the bruise that was just starting to turn an ugly shade of blue against her sternum.

  “He’s done so well since we got here.”

  She nodded. “And it was likely brought on by stress and the argument we’d just had.”

  “Argument?” He raised his brows in surprise. “Anything I should know about?”

  Julia shrugged. “The subject of the future came up, and you know how he is. He’s afraid to look ahead.”

  “You have to know he loves you.”

  “I know he does.” She fought back the grief that threatened to overtake her again. This was what she’d been trying to avoid. “And I love him. But he’s not willing to move forward. He’s letting guilt and sorrow and regrets chain him to the past. As long as he remains drowning in them, he’ll keep having flashbacks and nightmares. Roscoe can help, but he can’t cure what is eating Dylan alive.”

  “Roscoe is helping him control his triggers, and the anger, Julia. I’ve seen that.” Gage rose from the couch and leaned forward with his hands on the desk, closing the gap between them. “But you’ve been able to reach him when no one else could.” He turned and walked to the door, pausing to turn back. “He trusts you. We both do.”

  Gage disappeared down the hall, and the tears began to fall down her cheeks, unbidden and unchecked. “That was Dylan’s first mistake.”

  As much as falling in love with him was hers.

  DYLAN AVOIDED JULIA. What could he possibly say to make this right? Sorry I nearly punched you this morning.

  What did it matter if he was in the middle of a flashback? That he had no idea what he’d been doing? That all he heard and saw were the bullets whizzing past? He’d felt the heat of the desert, and thought she’d been an enemy from the village sneaking up on him. He shoved his clothing into his duffel bag and looked over at Roscoe, lying on the bed watching him. When he noticed Dylan’s attention, he tipped his head to one side curiously.

  He knew they were going to have to talk about Roscoe. He couldn’t imagine not having him at his side now. Other than this morning, the dog had been able to control each and every trigger as it presented. And, it wasn’t a lack of trying on Roscoe’s part this morning. Dylan absently rubbed at the scratches where Roscoe dug into his chest, hard enough to break the surface of the skin because of his lack of response. He could only imagine the pain he’d inflicted on Julia, but it had almost been far worse. If it hadn’t been for Roscoe . . .