A Mountain Man Christmas Crush (Mountain Men of Granite Junction #1)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

A fter two more bouts of making love, because it was sure as hell not sex, not with Sarah, Gene just about escaped back to his room before falling into a restless sleep. He had lingered with her in her room until she fell asleep in his arms, then he eased away. Not before he nodded off himself, utterly relaxed and content for the first time in more years than he could remember. But he couldn’t risk staying there, not with the dreams he had. It was when his walls were down that he had his worst nightmares.

The next morning, Sarah said nothing about waking up alone and they fell into a routine, similar to before, but with the addition of Gene starting in her bed, then heading to his own after Sarah fell asleep. Sarah never complained, but he knew she was unhappy with the arrangement.

After a week without a resurgence in nightmares, he started to relax, thinking maybe he was safe. But he worried that it was only a matter of time before the demons that lived inside his soul came out to play.

That night, after they made love, Sarah rested her head on his chest and traced his scars with light fingers. “Will you tell me about them?”

Ice flowed in his veins at her question, at her touch. He hadn’t let anyone that close in years, not since his injuries, unless he had been forced to, during medical exams. But Sarah was different. She’d gotten under his skin and, while every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, he remained frozen in the bed as she explored him.

“It’s not a story for little girls,” he replied gruffly.

She laughed, a soft, almost musical sound. “I haven’t been a little girl in several years. I want to know. I want to understand you.”

His muscles locked, and he wanted to scream and run away. The memories so dark and heavy that they threatened to swamp him, drown out the happy, sated afterglow they had. But he had to share, felt that she needed to know. Then she’d seen how fucked up he truly was and maybe decide to back away. It would be best for both of them if she did. He was too messed up for her. He would destroy her over time.

He sucked in a deep breath and began to speak. “Our unit was assigned a series of villages in the mountains of Afghanistan. We mostly stuck to the foothills, not going into the mountains often. We weren’t really seeing a lot of action. While we were looking for terrorists, one of our main goals was to build goodwill with the villagers. We’d developed a good rapport with many of them, being invited to meals and even a couple of weddings. We played soccer with the kids, brought books and supplies, help repair equipment and ensure they had what they needed for crops and livestock.”

“It was almost like an outreach program,” she murmured, her fingers still moving lazily over his chest.

“Exactly. Only we carried weapons and had to be ready for anything at any time. Some of the paths we traveled were perfect for ambushes, but we hadn’t seen any of that. One day, we were headed to one of the villages. One of our unit had been spending time with one of the girls, though we didn’t know it, not until a few days before. Anyway, as we approached with some food and replacement parts for their well, it all went to shit.”

She flinched, her hand tightening over his heart and her body tensing. But she didn’t say anything more. He stared at the ceiling, but he wasn’t seeing the white stucco. He saw the scrub brush, the sandy soil, heard the screams, the rat-a-tat of guns.

“We were driving there because of the equipment. The first jeep exploded, flipping over and sending the four guys flying out. The second swerved to avoid them and hit another IED, also flipping. I was in the second jeep and had burns on part of my body. By then, we were surrounded by people firing at us.”

“Terrorists?”

“We didn’t know. It happened so fast. Our communications guy had been on the radio when it started, so he was able to get out an SOS before we took cover. By the time it was over and help arrived, we were all injured. My second in command got me to safety.”

She made a sound of distress and hugged him tight. He barely felt her.

“We didn’t know until later that night, back at base, that we were missing someone. Silas Monroe never made it back with the unit. We found him four days later.” His tone was bleak and left no room for questions.

Sarah’s tears wet his chest, searing him deep inside. “You survived. That’s a big deal.”

“We lost men. I lost men. I was in command. I got lazy. I should have known we were in danger.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “How could you have known? You said yourself, the villagers invited you to weddings and meals. How could you have known they would turn on you?”

He glared at the ceiling as if it were a mirror into his soul. “Because the enemy was too strong, too manipulative. I forgot that we were the outsiders. Would never be a part of them. No matter what we did.”

She was quiet for a long time. “What happened to the soldier you lost?”

He couldn’t say his name. It would expose his brothers, their reason for being in Granite Junction. The promise they all made that day. “He had fallen in love with a girl in the village. He had planned on asking her to marry him. If she said yes, he was going to get permission to bring her to America. None of us knew that and apparently he thought it was a secret to her people too. It wasn’t.”

Regret was a bitter taste in his mouth, one he’d lived with for the past several years. “He was the reason we were targeted. Not the only one but the main reason. If he had trusted me as his commanding officer, as a friend, we could have anticipated this.”

She hugged him hard. “I’m so sorry. But he was protecting you. Protecting her.”

“Maybe.” But he should have known something was wrong. The last time they had been in the village, things had been tense, quiet. He had ignored his instincts and he got his men killed.

She levered herself up to stare into his eyes. “Gene. Look at me.”

Against his better judgement, he met her gaze, expecting to see revulsion or even recrimination. But instead, he saw sympathy and something else. Love.

“You cannot control what others do. You did the best you could with the information you had in front of you. He should have trusted you with what was going on. True. But he didn’t. He had a whole unit to talk to and he chose not to. I’m not blaming him either. I blame the insurgents who attacked you, despite all you did for them. They are the ones to blame. Only them. You need to let this go. Or you’ll live in the past forever and never have a future. Do you really want that?”

She waited for a long moment, then settled back against him, her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest, as if reminding him of what he had to live for. They laid there for several minutes and he realized something. He felt a little lighter for sharing the story, something he hadn’t done with anyone since he’d left the military, not even the therapist who’d visited him in the hospital and rehab. Reliving it was a nightmare yet it also felt like he’d lanced the wound. He let himself relax enough to close his eyes. Just for a moment, while he waited for her to fall asleep. Then he closed his eyes.

The sound of bombs, screams, and flashes exploded all around him. Confusion reigned, and he stared at the almost-foreign terrain around him, the smell of cordite, metal, burning flesh and blood heavy in the air. A screaming figure lunged out of the smoke at him, a knife poised to plunge into his chest. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed the wrist to hold the knife away. With his other hand, he grabbed the throat of the enemy, a boy really, and squeezed, trying to get him to drop his weapon. Fingers scrambled at his arm. A voice pleaded with him to let him go. In English. That was different.

He blinked, and the scene morphed into darkness, dim lighting, and a face that was dearest to him in the entire world staring up at him, hands around his wrist, eyes pleading for him to let go. In that moment, pain exploded between his legs and he let go and curled up in a little ball on the side of the bed, horrified by his actions. Nausea rose in his throat, both from the pain in his balls and by what he’d almost done.

Sarah stroked his hair back from his face. “Are you back with me? Gene?” He nodded, only a groan of pain coming from his throat. “Good. I’ll get some ice and a cold cloth. Stay right here.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. She returned quickly, the promised cold cloth draped on his forehead and an ice pack pressed to his balls. She stroked the cloth over his face while he held the bag and regulated his breathing.

“Where did you learn that move?”

A faint smile crossed her face. “All women know the key to hurting a man is through his genitals. Deputy Jo and Nathan teach a self-defense class for women in town. They strongly encourage all single women especially to take it.”

“You must have graduated top of your class with that move,” he muttered.

Her smile broadened. “That was actually lesson one. But yeah, I aced it.” Her expression sobered, and she stroked his shoulder. “A nightmare? Want to talk about it?”

That was a hard pass since talking about it was what triggered the nightmares. “Nope. It’s time for me to go back to my bed. I’m sorry, Sarah. This was a bad idea.”

She opened her mouth as if to disagree, but shut it without saying anything and only nodded, hugging her pillow to herself. He grabbed his pants, the ice pack, and made his escape. Damn, he knew it had been too good to be true. He couldn’t have a future. He was too damaged.

* * *

S arah sipped her tea, heavily laced with honey, and tried to forget the memory of Gene’s hands around her throat the previous night. While she had remained calm for his sake and handled the situation, she couldn’t deny she had been scared. Who wouldn’t be? He would hurt no one, but that wasn’t the Gene she knew. Not even close. And she didn’t know how to help him, but she sensed she needed to, if they were to have a future.

His heavy steps came down the stairs, and she braced herself for the confrontation that she sensed was coming. She wasn’t wrong. A duffel bag was tossed over his shoulder and he paused in the kitchen, his expression darkening when he took in the marks around her throat.

“I made coffee and breakfast,” she said, her voice raspy from the evening’s adventure.

“I think it’s best if I just go.”

She steeled her voice. “Sit down.”

His eyes widened, but he tossed the bag down and sat across from her. “I warned you what could happen, Sarah. We played with fire and got burned.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So you’re just going to give up and run? Then you’re not the brave man I thought you were, Gene Woodruff. We could have a good thing here, but you’re too scared to fight for it.”

He slammed his hand down on the table, then winced when she jumped. “I could have killed you last night, or at least hurt you badly. Don’t you understand? It’s too risky to be around me.”

“And what have you done to deal with these issues besides hiding from them? Look, I’m no expert at any of this. But there is one in Martinsburg and a support group. You will never move past this living off the grid and avoiding people.” She reached across the table and took his hand, ignoring his clenched fist. “I love you. I always have. I know we said this was a short-term thing, nothing serious and I’m breaking the rules, but I’m sorry. I care too much about to you to see you in such pain. Even if you never come back to me, please do something about this. No matter how long it takes, I will be here for you.”

She released his hand and got up, but not before pushing a pamphlet toward him. She headed for the hall and he cleared his throat. “You won’t stop me from leaving?”

Without turning around, she said, “Could I stop you?”

“No. Could Bo stay here for a while until I find a place? I think he’s happier with you.”

This time, she turned and faced him. “He’s happier with you and makes you happier. But yes, he can stay as long as he needs to.”

Gene nodded and stood. “Thank you, Sarah. And, I’m sorry.”

And he walked out of the back door, shoulders slumped. She only hoped he wasn’t walking out of her life forever.