Rescued by the Major (Winter Rescue)

9. Anders

9

ANDERS

Two nights of sleep and I wake up feeling like a new man. It’s no surprise why. Not when I’ve got this sweet woman curled up in my arms, the tiniest little snores escaping from her slightly open mouth every once in a while. When I press a kiss to her temple, she shifts against me with a small smile quirking her lips. Her butt grinds against my hard length and now I’m the one who wants to groan.

I drag my fingertips over her bare arm, luxuriating in the silky feel, until I hit a wide rough line. Eva flinches in her sleep as if that simple touch causes her pain. In the light from the window, I can see the silvery remains of a scar bisecting her arm. An instant urge to know who did this to her surges in my chest. I need to know the story behind this injury and do whatever I can to help her recover from it.

Slipping my arm around her waist is instinctive, and I tug her a little closer to me. She hums in appreciation, wiggling until we’re aligned back to front, then I hear her sigh, and another sweet snore slips out. I hold her close, letting myself doze as I think about the ways I’ll hurt the person who hurt her. Because I know scars and there’s a certainty settling over me that this wasn’t a simple accident.

Time slips away, but it feels inconsequential. I admit to myself that I could hold her like this forever, and that thought doesn’t scare me. There's a peace I’m finding here with her that's been missing. What’s frightening is the idea of not having her in my arms for any reason. To watch her walk out my door and know I’ll never see her again. That’s something that’s truly scary.

And just like I know there’s a story about the scar on her arm that she hasn’t told me yet, I can’t share this depth of emotion. She’ll think it's too soon. Hell, if I wasn’t in the midst of this myself, I’d say it was too soon. But in this bed with her, it doesn’t feel that way at all.

Eva yawns, drawing my attention to her face, and her eyelashes flutter as she slowly wakes. Her grin when she catches me watching her makes me want to smile back, and I don’t have the instant urge to turn my face away, hide the scars which are no doubt obvious in the glaring light of morning.

“Now this is a picture that makes me glad I woke up,” she says with an unrestrained laugh, her hand tracing up to the edge of my jaw, gliding over my beard and ridged skin as if it’s a natural thing for her. “I know I told you how handsome you are before, but I’ve got to say it again. It should be illegal for you to be this gorgeous first thing in the morning.”

Tension uncoils in my chest, the lurking fear that the fantasy of our perfect night together was exactly that — a fantasy — washes away. There’s this feeling taking root in its place, confidence that Eva truly sees me for whom I am, not just what I look like and the scars I carry.

“Agreed. It should be illegal for someone as beautiful as you to exist. Much less be here in my bed.”

Her eyes go a little shiny at that, and I press a kiss to her arm. Just above the marks I saw before she woke. Her body goes tense, and I know without a doubt why.

“Want to tell me about this scar here?” I ask her, carefully gliding a finger over it. I’m gentle because I know how strange the sensation can feel when something touches a scar. It’s not necessarily pain, but it can still be uncomfortable. When her eyes won’t meet mine, I change tactics and sit up beside her. “Can I show you something?”

She nods, some of the tension in her muscles slipping away as I spin around on the bed. Eva sits up, eyebrows raised as I settle my feet in place on the mattress and then tip my right leg in, revealing the striation of scar tissue on my calf. The skin is a mottled color and you can easily see where muscle and tissue was lost.

Her eyes go wide as she looks at it, and she instantly reaches out a hand, then stops a fraction before touching me.

“Oh, Anders. That looks so painful.”

I shrug. “It’s not so bad, now. Compared to what it was. When I push myself too hard, the muscle aches and it will give out on me if I don’t rest when I need to.”

At my encouraging nod, her fingers finally settle against the divot in my calf, the wide dip where the muscle is gone. Looking at it with her eyes on me, I’m back in the bed, hearing the doctors explain their plan to save my leg. The news of the grafting process I would suffer through after they removed the dead tissue.

The ticklish ghost of her touch feathers against the damaged skin, evidence the injured nerves are still trying to fire. Her gaze jumps to mine, and she winces, an apology I can see forming on her lips.

Shaking my head, I reassure her. “It doesn’t hurt. Just feels a little weird at this point.”

Her attention shifts back to my leg, gently following the line of scar tissue, where it stops mid-thigh.

“What happened?” Her voice catches as she asks the question, and I can hear the hesitation in it.

“The vehicle I was in was part of a convoy. We rolled over a bomb that had been hidden in the road. I remember the sound, the flash of heat. Then the next thing is seeing one of the medics in front of me, while I was on my back in the dirt. He kept telling me I was going to be okay.”

Now it’s my voice that halts, and I swallow against the lump that's formed as I work through the memories. “It took a lot of time, a lot of surgeries. But I’m still here. Some of the other guys aren’t.”

Eva nods, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and her fingers twine with mine. She gives me the confidence to continue, so I drag in a breath. “The scars on my face are from shrapnel. I’m lucky they’re just on the one side.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” she says, her grip going tight on mine. “And for the ones who didn't make it. But I’m so glad you're here with me now. That you came to rescue me out there. I know you'll argue with me, but you’re a hero, Anders. Truly.”

Normally, I’d bristle at the apology, deny that I want pity. But it’s not pity I’m hearing in her words. Instead, it feels simply like she cares. Like she hurts at the idea of what I went through, the grief I felt over those I lost that day.

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing her fingers in return. She responds with a trembling smile, and I lean in and kiss her quickly. “Now, what do you think about breakfast? I’m starving after the way you made me work last night.”

She chokes out a laugh and it’s one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard. Proof of her happiness in this small cabin where I came to leave the world behind.