Taking Heart (19 page)

“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.

“J
ULIA
?” T
HE 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.

D
YLAN AVOIDED
J
ULIA
. 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 . . .

The dog's actions had left him with a cut on his head and a woman hiding scared in her office, but it could have been far worse. He didn't blame Julia for hiding, for being afraid of him. Especially after what she'd already gone through with Evan. She deserved far better than what he could offer. He'd known it all along. This was just the proof he'd wanted to avoid facing the truth.

“What are you doing?” Julia's voice was soft but hesitant from the doorway. He could hear the unease in the slight tremor, and when he turned to look at her, he could see the doubt in her eyes.

In one night, he'd gone from being her hero, a man she looked at with love and adoration, to seeing him with apprehension and fear. He'd done the one thing he promised not to do—hurt her—and in more ways than he wanted to count. He turned his back to her, unable to bear the agony her hesitation was causing within him.

“Packing. Gage and I are going to stay in town. I can come back every day to finish working with Roscoe until you think I'm ready for him to come with me.”

“You're leaving?”

“I think it's for the best.” He felt the lump in his throat choke him on the half-truth. Only a part of him believed it. Dylan wanted her to disagree, to argue, to reach out and give him hope again.

“I think you should take Roscoe with you now.”

He looked at her over his shoulder, surprised that she would agree to his leaving so readily, but trying not to show that it felt as if she'd just ripped him open with a dull knife. “Are you sure?”

His voice was raspy, raw from the pain, and he cleared his throat, wanting nothing more than to walk across the room and pull her into his arms. To tip her face up to his and take her mouth in a kiss, to hear her sigh of surrender and to make love to her, to show her how he wanted to worship her. His eyes fell to the bruise he could barely make out along the collar of her T-shirt.

Dylan crossed the room, without thinking, and moved her shirt down so he could fully see what he'd done. She gasped in surprise, or fear, but continued to look up at him with her beautiful innocent eyes. An ugly purple bruise was just beginning to mar her skin. It would turn purple and black later but, for now, the mark taunted him, reminding him of how he'd hurt her, of how much worse it would have been if not for Roscoe knocking him from the bed. He couldn't even keep her safe from himself, let alone someone else. He had no idea how dangerous he was, what sort of monster lurked within him, that he could hurt her this way.

He moved his hand away from the material as if it burned. Julia's chest heaved, as if she'd just finished running. She shuddered and Dylan fell to his knees in front of her, his hands holding her hips, and pressed his face to her stomach.

“I'm so sorry, Julia. I never meant to—”

“Shh,” she whispered, her hands moving to hold his face. Dylan refused to look up at her, until he felt her tears hit the top of his head. “I know.”

He'd failed again, but this time, the agony, the guilt, was far worse. Julia had trusted him, had placed her heart in his hands, and he'd betrayed that trust. As surely as if he'd pulled the trigger, he'd killed her love for him. He had to leave her, for her own safety. He was no better than Evan, even if it had been an accident.

“Dylan?”

She looked down at him, and in the depths of her eyes he saw that she wanted him to tell her it would be okay, that it had been a misunderstanding, or a nightmare. She needed to hear him tell her how much he loved her, that he wouldn't ever let it happen again. He'd already broken so many promises to her, to himself; he couldn't make one he knew he could never keep. Breaking her heart once was bad enough, doing it twice would be unforgivable.

He rose, his hands finding the curve of her jaw, and he buried his fingers into her long hair. He gave himself permission, just this last time, to kiss her. He had to feel her lips against his one final time, to inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo and the coconut lotion she put on her hands each night. He had to taste her, to have a glimpse of heaven one more time before he raised the wall between them, separating himself from her. His lips plucked at hers, at the corners of her mouth, his tongue finding hers to dance.

Julia clung to his arms, trembling against his chest. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and carry her to the bed, to bury himself within her and lose himself to the passion that ran between them like a river—strong and sure, enough to drown them both. He fought for control, not allowing his hands to move from her face. He felt his own hot tears scalding his cheeks, mingling with hers, at the sacrifice he knew he had to make.

“Julia, I can't do this to you. I won't condemn you to living a life like this. I love you too much for that.” He took a step back and grabbed his duffel from the bed. Brushing past her, he hurried for the front door with Roscoe on his heels. He had to get away before he began to second-guess his decision.

“Dylan.” He heard her footsteps behind him.

He knew he couldn't turn around. The minute he did, he would return and hurt her again. Until he could erect a solid wall around his heart again, to force himself to ignore the pull between them and shut out his feelings, he couldn't look back. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would come back and get the rest of his things. Tomorrow he could return and train Roscoe with her as if there had never been an explosive connection between them. Tomorrow, he could go back to the cold, unfeeling shell of a man he'd been when he first arrived. That man could protect Julia without hurting her.

J
ULIA RUBBED THE
dark circles under her eyes and prayed it was just a trick of the light. Nope, and no amount of makeup would cover them, even if she knew what she was doing, which she didn't. She dragged her fingers through her hair and pulled it back into a messy ponytail. What did it matter? There was no one she was trying to impress. The one person she wanted to look pretty for had up and walked away last night without even talking to her. She pulled a clean T-shirt from her drawer and pulled it over her head and slid on a worn pair of jeans before slipping on her sneakers.

She found Chase with his chin in his hand and his head dipping toward the cold mug of coffee on the table. “Morning,” she muttered, reaching for her own cup.

“You look like crap.”

She turned and cast him a baleful glare. “You don't look much better, I assure you.”

Chase scrubbed at his face, his day-old stubble rasping against his hands. “Yeah, well, I was up all night. What's your excuse?”

“Same.”

Her frank answer was enough to make him take pause. “Julia, I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday. I never meant to cause any trouble.”

She shook her head and poured the coffee. “You didn't. It was a storm already on the horizon.”

“You're going to call him today, right?”

She picked up the mug and blew on the coffee, giving herself time to think of how best to answer his question. She'd been asking herself the same thing all night and had yet to come up with a concrete solution. “We need to continue training Roscoe for a little longer.”

Chase gave her his most parentally disapproving frown. “I have never, in my life, seen two people more head over heels. It was almost disgusting. You can't just throw it away.”

“I'm not throwing anything away.”

His brow furrowed. “It
was
an accident, right?”

“What was an accident?” Justin came strolling into the kitchen as if he owned the place. Technically, he was a partial owner in the training facility, but it irritated her when he acted as though he was entitled to her home as well.

“Nothing.” She sipped the coffee and prayed Chase would follow her lead. The last thing she needed was for Justin to get all protective over an accident.

Justin looked around, bending to pet Tango and Gracie before grabbing his own mug. “Where are Gage and Dylan?”

“They're staying in town.”

He spun slowly on his heel, as if unsure whether he heard her correctly. “Why? What happened?”

She shrugged. “He thought it was a better idea.”

“Does that mean no more Dyl-ia?” She caught Chase's glare as he shook his head at Justin. “That's what we've been calling you guys.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“No.”

Justin paused at her clipped tone and walked over to her. “What's goin' on, sis? The truth.”

“I told you, nothing.” She sipped her coffee. Julia knew the instant he saw the bruise at her collarbone, because his eyes grew huge and blind rage set in.

“What the hell is that?”

She forced herself not to react. Justin was like a toddler at times, and she just needed to remain calm and he would match her mood. “That was an accident.”

“An accident?” He looked to Chase for confirmation, his voice now booming in the kitchen. “An accident? How the hell did this happen? Who did this? Evan?”

“Relax, Justin.”

“My sister is sporting a bruise that looks like one of Jessie's horses kicked her square in the chest, and you don't want to tell me what happened. Somebody better be under arrest, and one of you better start talking.” Justin began pacing the kitchen.

“Justin, sit down,” Julia begged, rubbing her temples. “You're giving me a headache.”

“Julia,” he warned.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Dylan had a flashback and Julia tried to bring him out of it. She got too close, and that's what happened.”

“Chase!” she warned, trying to stop the drama her brother was sure to start.

“I'm going to kill him. Is that why he left?” He moved toward her, trying to grab the edge of her collar and look at the bruise.

Julia slapped at his hands. “Get away. Yes, Justin, the special ops soldier was so afraid of what you're capable of, he ran away to hide.”