Heart of a Soldier. Belle Calhoune

It didn’t feel right giving him the brush-off.”

      “It’s not your fault. I’m responsible.” Her tone was clipped. She saw the look of dismay on her best friend’s face. She didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but she was feeling so wounded. It hurt to lose the possibility of Dylan. Even though they’d shared secrets and dreams ever since they were kids, she wanted to lick her wounds in private. There was no way Cassidy could ever understand what had driven her to keep her disability a secret. Most able-bodied people wouldn’t get it in a million years. All Cassidy had to do was walk in a room to have all male eyes drawn to her like moths to a flame. Ever since the accident she’d been single. Alone. For eight long years she hadn’t gone out on a date or shared a sweet, tender kiss with a single soul. There had been nobody to hold hands with or catch a movie with at the drive-in. She’d hadn’t received flowers on Valentine’s Day or kissed anyone under the mistletoe. Although she’d felt the stirrings of something with Deputy Cullen Brand, they’d never managed to get out of the friend zone. And considering the fact that he worked closely with Tate in the sheriff’s office, in the long run it might have been a little awkward.

      Becoming Dylan’s correspondent had allowed her a rare opportunity to connect with someone without her physical condition being front and center. Living in a small town like West Falls where everyone knew her whole life story felt limiting at times. And she’d wanted to experience romance. Pure, wondrous romance.

      She’d wanted someone to fall for her without the wheelchair getting in the way. Yes, in retrospect it was selfish of her to withhold the truth, but she hadn’t been able to write those words down on the page. She hadn’t wanted his opinion of her to change.

      Her relationship with Dylan had started out as mere friendship, blossoming into tender, powerful feelings over the course of the past year. Deep in her soul she’d nurtured a fragile hope that he might be the one. She’d never been in love, but she’d hoped to be in a position to fall head over heels in love with Dylan. And to have those tender feelings returned. Now, in light of everything, those dreams had gone up in smoke. She must have been crazy to think this would all work out in the end.

      The sound of whirring tires followed by screeching brakes reverberated in the stillness of the October afternoon. A loud rapping on the front door soon followed. Holly locked eyes with Cassidy before moving toward the front door and slowly opening it. Dylan was standing on the front porch, his handsome features marred by a frown. Holly let out a deep breath. He looked so different now. His face was shuttered. He seemed impenetrable, as if he’d built a wall around himself no one or nothing could breach. The way he was standing—his arms were folded in front of him and his chest was rapidly rising and falling—caused a prickle of awareness to race through her. He looked as if he were ready to take on the world.

      “May I come in?” The grim set of his features was nothing compared to the iciness in his voice.

      Flustered, Holly waved him into the house. All the while her mind was racing. What was he doing back here? And why was his expression so forbidding? Her throat felt constricted, and she didn’t think she could utter a single word if she tried. The sound of his boots echoed sharply against the hardwood floor. He moved toward the middle of the foyer so he was facing both of them.

      Looking back and forth between them, he ground out, “Make no mistake, we need to get something straight. I don’t know what kind of game the two of you are playing with me, but I do know you’re not Holly Lynch.” He jutted his chin in Cassidy’s direction, his eyes blazing with anger. “Are you?”

      Resembling a deer caught in headlights, Cassidy froze, her eyes wide with alarm.

      Holly maneuvered her wheelchair until she was positioned directly in front of Cassidy. She had no intention of making her best friend take it on the chin. She’d started this whole thing, and even though it wouldn’t be easy, facing Dylan was her responsibility. She looked up at him, refusing to lose her courage and look away from his probing gaze.

      Before losing her nerve, she dived right in. “You’re right. She’s not Holly, Dylan. I am.”

       Chapter Three

      “Holly?” His question bristled in the air like a live grenade. The air around them buzzed with electricity.

      “Yes. It’s me, Dylan.” She met his gaze head on, her blue eyes full of intensity.

      A hundred different thoughts were swirling through his mind. His first reaction was a strong sense of recognition. Of course this was Holly. It all made sense now, and even though he’d been thrown off by the wheelchair, there was something he’d instantly recognized in her essence.

      His second reaction was sorrow. His soul shattered for Holly. She couldn’t walk? The same woman he’d been corresponding with for more than a solid year was in a wheelchair. Hadn’t she written him about being an accomplished rider? About wanting a house full of kids one day? What had happened to her? Had this all been a big scam? Thoughts were whizzing through his brain until he felt himself becoming dizzy.

      Confusion covered him like a shroud. His mind went totally blank. Suddenly, he was stumbling around in the darkness without a way out.

      “Why?” His voice came out raspy and uneven. He shoved his fingers through his hair as myriad emotions flitted through him. “Why didn’t you tell me? What is this all about?” The tone of his voice sounded sharp and raised, but he was well past caring about that. It hurt so badly that Holly had tried to trick him. The chocolate Labrador retriever began growling low in his throat, the hairs on his back raised. The dog sat down in front of Holly, acting as a protector.

      “Shush, Bingo. Quiet down,” Holly said in a firm voice as she patted the top of his head.

      Cassidy cleared her throat and looked over at Holly, her eyes wide with concern. “Holly. What do you want me to do? Should I stay?”

      Holly met Cassidy’s gaze. She gave her best friend a tentative smile and shook her head. “Go back to the gallery, Cass. I’m sorry I involved you in this.”

      Cassidy glanced back and forth between them, hesitating for a moment before she headed for the door. She pulled it open and cast a lingering glance over her shoulder at the two of them. The look in her eyes warned him to go easy on Holly. The sound of the door clicking closed behind her rang out in the stillness of the foyer.

      The silence that lingered in Cassidy’s wake was painful. Considering written communication between them had always felt effortless, it was an odd sensation.

      “I’m sorry, Dylan. Please don’t blame Cassidy for pretending to be me. It was all my idea. And it’s not something I’m proud of by any means.”

      “Then why’d you do it?” he asked, needing to know what this ruse was all about.

      “When I got your letter today, I panicked,” she admitted. She gestured toward her legs. “Not telling you about my being paralyzed was cowardly. I should have told you in the very beginning, but as time went by, it became harder and harder.” She hung her head. “I should never have kept secrets from you, Dylan. It was wrong of me.”

      “When? How?” He was fumbling with his words. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask, but he still felt out of sorts. He was still reeling from the news. The shock reverberated down to his very core.

      “I was in a car accident when I was eighteen, right after I graduated from high school. My friends and I were playing a reckless-driving game, and I didn’t have my seat belt on. The roads were slick that night, and we weren’t being responsible. Cassidy lost control and hit a stone wall. I was thrown from the car.” Holly’s shoulders sagged. “As a result, I lost the use of my legs.”

      His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. He had to ask the question, couldn’t deal with not knowing. Already it was nagging at him relentlessly.

      “Permanently?” His voice sounded like a croak.

      “Yes. My spinal cord was partially severed.