Kieran’s Light (Trappers Cove Romance #6)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

“It’s a profound cosmic injustice.” Scowling at the magnificent view—towering pines and cedars interspersed with maples and alders blazing scarlet and gold—Doctor Addyson Connor eased her BMW around yet another hairpin turn.

Through a break in the trees, the Pacific shone jewel-blue, gilded by the late-afternoon sun.

Okay, so it was beautiful out here. But damn it to Kandahar and back, she’d wanted to share this weeklong leave on the Washington coast with her best friend. What’s the point of a solo vacation?

“Sorry, Addy,” Liv crooned in her soothing therapist voice, “You’ll just have to make do with Snoot. He’s a good listener.”

Upon hearing his name through the car speakers, the chocolate Lab whined and wriggled as far forward as his seat harness allowed.

Addy reached over her shoulder and skritched him behind his floppy ears.

“Seriously, though,” she grumbled, “if talking it out with doggo-face was the answer, I could’ve stayed home.”

Liv’s low chuckle filled the X-1’s interior.

“Everyone needs a break, sweetie, even gorgeous surgeons who exhaust themselves with work instead of dealing with their issues.” Liv crunched into her phone—probably greasy egg rolls from the AAFES food court in the military hospital where they both worked.

“Gorgeous? Hmmph.” Addy glanced at her reflection: face ghostly pale from too much time indoors, dark hair wind-snarled into spaghetti, thanks to the window she left open on the three-hour drive from Joint Base Lewis-McChord. “Is it my fault the surgical schedule is so tight?”

“Gonna call bullshit on that one, sis. I have it on good authority you’ve been volunteering for extra procedures.”

“Yeah, well…” Addy cranked the wheel hard as the road skirted a rocky outcropping. “It’s either work or think about, you know, not-work.”

“Why not talk this over with Enzo?”

“Ugh.” Colonel Enzo Nardoni, her assigned therapist, talked too much and listened too little. “I know he’s qualified and all—”

“When it comes to combat-induced PTSD, he’s one of the best, Addy.”

“Agree to disagree.” Honestly, she’d rather rely on her own coping strategies than endure another pointless session with that bloviating bore. His bushy nose hair and condescending tone made her skin crawl.

Besides, her problems didn’t stem from warfare itself, just the horrific aftermath. The things she’d seen in that combat support hospital—mangled limbs, shredded bellies, bone salad, inhuman screams, the coppery smell of blood…

Though Addy’s body was unmarked by shrapnel wounds, her soul was crisscrossed with scars.

And she’d been counting on this relaxing week with Liv, AKA Lieutenant Colonel Olivia Williams, US Army psychologist. Even though their friendship precluded Liv from treating Addy, her thoughtful “um hmms” and sympathetic head nods had a magical way of lending clarity to the convoluted mess that was Addy’s life.

Between pressure from her family in Nebraska, her punishing work schedule, and intrusive thoughts, it was harder and harder to keep the threads from unraveling.

Her co-workers were starting to notice, too.

Yesterday, Lieutenant Marco Ochinang, her favorite surgical nurse, stopped her on her way to the hospital’s coffee shop for her third cup that afternoon and asked, “Ma’am, are you okay? ”

She’d brushed off his concern with a forced smile, but judging by his skeptical expression, she was a shitty actor.

This vacation was supposed to be her chance to sort it all out: what to do about her ailing, venomous mother and the whole spiteful clan, plus the minor matter of where the hell to steer her career for the next twenty or so years.

Liv had volunteered to help her talk through it—until an emergency on base had cancelled Liv’s leave.

“How are they doing over at the Stryker Brigade?”

“Not great. Losing two young NCOs like that—” Liv gave a weary sigh. “And one of them was a new dad. As much as I hate it, Colonel Okafor made the right call. I’m booked solid for the next four days.”

“Yeah, it’s a heartbreaker.” Addy had been called in for an emergency surgery on one of the backseat passengers, a military wife whose leg was so badly mangled by the crash, she’d probably limp for the rest of her life. Poor woman, just twenty-four and already a widow.

Then again, the widows she’d met downrange had been younger. Their grief-stricken wails haunted her dreams.

“Anyway,” Liv said, “you’re going to have a wonderful time. You’ve got your assignment, and I expect a full report.”

“Right, right.” Addy threw a glance over her shoulder. “I’ll fill up that journal if Snoot doesn’t eat it first.”

“Snoot!” Liv snapped through the dashboard speaker. “No eating Mama’s stuff.”

The dog huffed and dropped the duffle bag handle he’d been chomping on.

“Good boy.”

Addy’s brow furrowed. “Did you hide a spy camera in my car?”

“Oh dear, what did he mangle this time?”

“No damage, just a little drool.”

Liv’s belly-shaking laughter rang out. “Now, I want you to promise me you’ll give yourself the break you need, lovey. Walk the beach. Bring me back some shells—and something from Souvenir Planet.”

“Another UFO mug?” Addy rounded the windy road’s last curve, and the town of Trappers Cove came into view, its colorful shops stretched out along Main Street like a string of mismatched beads.

“Surprise me. Ope, there goes my pager. We’ll talk soon. And hey, get yourself a yummy man while you’re there. You’ve been sublimating your libido for far too long.”

Liv signed off with a loud smooch, and Addy’s road-trip playlist picked up in the middle of a song she and her friend should have been singing together.

She grumbled, muted the nineties boy band, and cruised down Main Street, past restaurants, bars, and souvenir shops.

Now that the summer hordes had returned to their inland lives, it was a pleasure to drink in all the quaint cuteness without sugar-mad kids dashing across her path.

Halloween must bring an influx of visitors, though, because most of the touristy shops were still open: The Mermaid’s Cave Gift shop, Skee-Ball Madness Arcade, Sea Visions Art Gallery, Gelateria Paradiso, and one she hadn’t noticed on her last trip: Madame Zora’s Psychic Emporium.

She’d have to check it out later, maybe bring Liv a crystal or two for her woo-woo meditations.

Addy forced her tense shoulders to relax.

If she could handle all the other shitty cards life had dealt her, she could damn well quit whining and make the most of a week at the shore.

Watching Snoot run on the beach would be fun.

After six years of combat duty, he deserved to use his expertly trained sniffer on something less dangerous than IEDs.

As she turned down Narwhal Lane, Snoot perked up and thrust his nose through the open window to drink in the sea air.

“Smells good, doesn’t it? Let’s see, 128, 132…This is us, bud. Home sweet home for the next seven days.”

Beach cottages didn’t come cuter than this one: cedar shingles, a covered porch with an ocean-blue railing, a sandy front yard beneath sprawling, wind-sculpted madrona trees, kitschy garden sculptures and bird feeders, and a by-God hammock big enough for two, perfect for daydreaming.

“Well, at least we’ll be comfortable in our solitude.” As soon as she unfastened Snoot’s harness, he sprang out and put his nose to the ground. Tail wagging, he snuffled through every inch of the front yard.

For the moment, Addy left the luggage in the open trunk and eased herself into the hammock. She gave an experimental push with her toe, and the canvas began to sway.

“Well, universe,” she asked the cloud-dotted sky, “what’s it gonna be? Another tour of duty, or do I slink back to Bumfuck, Nebraska?”

No answer came—except a soft whine at her elbow. Snoot gazed at her, his liquid brown eyes so full of concern she had to smile.

She patted the hammock. “Come on, boy.”

He hopped up and nestled against her side with a contented doggy sigh. Addy stroked his thick brown fur. Mom would hate Snoot, would refuse him entry into her overstuffed house. Hell, she’d probably give him a swift kick when Addy’s back was turned.

One more reason to avoid her childhood hometown.

But it would take a helluva long list to outweigh the most important reason tugging her back, the force that had driven her life for the past eleven years.

Duty.