Chapter 16
There was no way around it. Each day of the rehab wound up seeming more like a week than a single day.
Kelsey fell into step behind Patrick as she walked him out for the night, a part of her wishing she could crawl into the passenger side of his old Tacoma and have him drive her home to her apartment—no, to her parents’ house and her old room and bed that were still the same as when she moved out six years ago.
To shed life’s responsibilities and sleep in as late as her exhausted body craved.
Patrick scooped Orzo into his arms as they reached the truck. He’d come back out after leaving the shelter when it closed for the evening and spent an hour walking Devil around the front yard, allowing him to scent mark as he pleased.
The big giant was continually finding new ways to challenge them.
This morning, Kurt had asked Patrick to take the lead in the dog’s retraining.
If Devil was ever going to be adoptable, Kurt had admitted, he was going to need a lot more one-on-one attention that Kurt was going to be able to give him.
Although Patrick was hit or miss when it came to understanding the social cues of people, he was a genius at reading animals.
Even not knowing him long, Kurt seemed to have picked up on this.
“Thanks again for your help. I know you’re putting in your regular hours at the shelter too. Kurt’s not much of a talker, but I know he’s impressed with how well you do with Devil.” Kelsey gave Orzo, who looked quite content in Patrick’s arms, a scratch on the forehead.
“I think that he wants to communicate.”
“Kurt?”
“Devil.”
“How so?”
“Whenever he lunges at the kennels or snarls at the dogs passing by him, he’s quick to look me or Kurt in the eye. It’s the same way when he looks down the road.”
“Do you know what he’s trying to tell you?”
“I will soon. He’s a complicated animal. Not like Orzo, who just wants to sniff and eat and get petted.”
Kelsey nodded. “I won’t argue with you there. Let me know if I can help. I swear, there’s always so much to do here. I think Kurt feels pulled in every direction.”
Jim, the volunteer electrician, had been at the house for several hours too, working on the circuit panel.
He had left for the evening after relaying that, while the Sabrina Raven estate needed a considerable amount of electrical rewiring, his patchwork would hopefully be a stent to keep the op running smoothly.
“You’ve made a lot of progress already,” Patrick said.
Kelsey squeezed his elbow. “You’re the best, Patrick.”
He made a face like he didn’t know how to respond, then muttered good night. He loaded Orzo into the backseat of the cab and took off after rolling down his window and offering a wave.
With hardly the energy to move, Kelsey watched him drive off, noticing exhaustion in atypical places like her joints and her belly. Finally, she headed back in. After quietly shutting the front door—the dogs had settled down, and most were dozing—she paused in place, wondering where Kurt had gone.
Butterflies fluttered in her chest, reviving her better than caffeine.
It had been such a busy day that there’d been no time to wonder if the way they’d so easily gotten down to business this morning meant last night would become nothing more than a fantastic memory, or if it might happen again.
She’d also not had time to gawk at Kurt’s amazing lips or daydream about running her hand once more over his smooth skin and precision-toned core.
If she had a hope basket, she’d stick all her eggs in it, hoping she’d be lucky enough to experience him more than once.
But starting something up again tonight wouldn’t be the smartest decision.
She wasn’t the only one who was wearing out.
Kurt was—finally—showing signs of fatigue.
He’d yawned several times during the nightly feeding and once while intently focused on a training session with Lucky, the nine-year-old Doberman.
For his fatigue to show during training, Kurt had to be tired.
Hopefully, the floodlights he’d installed would enable him to relax and fall into a deep sleep tonight.
Kelsey headed toward the back of the house where she’d last seen him.
She found him at the kitchen table. The ceiling light was off, and the last of the fading daylight was coming in through the south window.
Mr. Longtail was sitting on the table in front of Kurt, lapping up milk from a half-empty glass.
Kurt was bent over, staring down at his lap, ignoring the cat.
After twisting sideways for a closer look, Kelsey realized he was asleep.
His eyes were closed, and his breath was even and slow.
Her chest swelled with new emotion. It was the first time she’d seen him look vulnerable.
She wanted to pull him against her and run her fingers through his hair.
She wanted to tuck him into bed and crawl in beside him and hold him while they drifted off to sleep—even if it meant sleeping in one of those questionable old beds.
And she never wanted to leave.
As she had with Steve, Kelsey wondered about the difference between a crush or fling—whatever this might turn out to be—and the real thing. She’d known Steve a year and a half, and her pulse had never quickened around him like she was a driver on an Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
Her feelings for Steve had been akin to fitting a questionable piece into a complicated puzzle.
The piece seemed to fit, the edges locking together almost seamlessly, but sometimes you didn’t know for sure until you assembled more of the puzzle.
She’d thought she loved Steve. Before “I just didn’t feel it,” imagining a life with him had seemed so natural.
They liked the same movies. They were always laughing at something.
They loved animals, had been brought up similarly, and had similar career goals.
It wasn’t the same with Kurt. Aside from his love of dogs, he was really nothing like her.
Kurt was serious and intense and quiet and an ex-soldier, raised on a military post, with no clue who his father was and a unique mother who could’ve stepped straight out of a movie.
It would be impossible to connect the dots from Kurt’s dramatic life to her ordinary, suburban, plain-as-toast upbringing, her over-the-top brothers, and her ordinary but loving parents.
But no matter what their differences were, her feelings for Kurt were clearly “yes, please” and “a bit more, please” and “maybe another spoonful” too.
With all these thoughts rolling around in her head, Kelsey had no idea what to do next. Maybe it would be best to jot a note, sneak out, and deal with everything tomorrow. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help her see things in a clearer light.
Wondering where she might find a notepad, she tiptoed to the table and, as soundlessly as possible, extracted the glass from underneath Mr. Longtail’s draping whiskers. A supply of milk that size and adult cats didn’t mix.
Then, as sudden as last night’s lightning flashes, Kurt was bolting to his feet and slamming her backward against the wall.
The back of her head and shoulders smacked against it as his forearm smashed into her collarbone.
He pressed against her, larger size and superior strength immediately subduing her.
For a split second, Kelsey could swear she grasped how it felt to be a deer facing a set of barreling headlights.
“Shit!” Letting her go almost as quickly as he’d grabbed her, Kurt stepped back, dragging his hands through his hair. “Kelsey, I’m sorry. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Did I hurt you?”
Her head was ringing, her adrenaline was racing, and everything seemed to be stuck in slow motion. Kurt’s voice carried a touch of grogginess and fear that belied the aggression he’d just exhibited.
He reached across the doorway and flipped on the light. The sky-blue cabinets, matching appliances, and yellow countertops gleamed fluorescent.
Kelsey shook her head, trying to clear it. “Ow.”
“Shit. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It was stupid to doze off like that.” He opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen-solid package of peas. “Let’s get you to the couch and get some ice on that head of yours.”
Despite the ringing in her ears, Kelsey could hear the drips from the spilt milk hitting the floor.
Mr. Longtail was now in the far counter, watching them with a look of immense dissatisfaction.
Kurt’s chair was turned over too. She hadn’t heard it fall, but then, she’d been busy being shoved against a wall.
Reality was sinking in as she gingerly fingered the knot forming at the back of her head. She looked from the rock-hard package of peas to the troubled expression on Kurt’s face.
There was another difference between them she’d not been thinking about. She hadn’t spent the better part of the last eight years in one war zone or another.
* * *
He kept hearing it over and over, the thunk of Kelsey’s head slamming into the wall. He’d hurt her. He hadn’t meant to—hell, he’d move mountains to keep her safe—but he’d hurt her all the same.
He’d been sitting at the table, fighting off a wave of exhaustion so deep he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open.
Clearly, he dozed off in spite of trying to fight off the urge, because the dream he’d been having while in the light sleep had been too easily confused with reality.
If he could separate himself from the awful dreams—dreams of trying helplessly to assist a buddy or one of the dogs in his care who’d been unexpectedly hit by a blast from an IED—if he could stop having these dreams, maybe he’d start believing in miracles.
But that seemed like an impossibility.