A Soldier's Family. Cheryl Wyatt

before. It was special and unbreachable, yet the entire team had pulled her and Amber into the circle with open arms and hearts.

      Except she and Manny had ruined that, strained the camaraderie by acting like a couple of junior-high kids at what was supposed to be a joyous celebration of Joel and Amber’s life together. It had jarred Celia’s confidence when Manny had shattered her hope of being his friend by suggesting she leave with him to his hotel—alone. Clearly, a friend is not how he saw her. How cheap that had made her feel.

      It stung worse than he could ever know.

      “I’d like to know what you’re thinking,” he surprised her by asking. She surprised herself by stepping backward, running into the chair she’d never sat in. It screeched just like her nerves at how he didn’t take his eyes off her, and seemed to notice every microscopic move. Manny eyed the displaced chair, then her. Those eyes. Like they saw right through her.

      And maybe cared about the turmoil? Her throat tightened.

      No. He wouldn’t like to know what she was thinking. Celia took another step back. And another, clutching her handbag against her stomach to stop the quiver.

      In fact, she didn’t want to know what she was thinking, either.

      “Why don’t you sit down?” Manny glanced at the chair in the middle again. “You’re making me nervous.”

      Him? She was making herself nervous.

      Rather than flee and make a fool of herself, she promptly sat. She was not good in this type of situation. Her mouth got her in trouble so often she was afraid to open it in front of Manny and lose her footing with this friendship. If it could be salvaged. This was important to Amber, so Celia would push through it. Speaking of…

      She eyed the door, where Joel and Amber’s mingled voices and conjoined laughter bounced off corridor walls.

      Manny must have heard it, too. He smiled. “I think we’ve been sabotaged.”

      For the first time since walking in, she grinned and it felt genuine. “I think so.”

      Manny targeted his gaze at her black eye, which she knew makeup did little to hide. “You look awful.”

      Celia grinned. “Thanks. So you do you.”

      He tilted his head and pinched the corners of his eyes a little. “What happened?”

      She lowered her face at his soft, interested tone. “I had a scuffle with the lawn mower and lost.” She didn’t want anyone knowing about that. So why’d she just blab to Manny?

      “I have a hard time believing you could lose a fight.” He rubbed fingers across his lip for emphasis. Then grinned as big as she’d ever seen him.

      Ouch. She resented that remark.

      Okay, out with it. She draped her jacket across her arm, then crossed the other arm over it. “Oh. Yeah. About that. I’m sorry I smacked you. It was inexcusable.”

      His smile faded and his eyes softened even more. “To be fair, how I acted was more inexcusable. That’s what I wrote in the letter.”

      “I know.”

      His grin returned. “You really read it?”

      She flashed him a grin of her own. “You really wrote it? You’re pretty eloquent with words—when you’re not drinking that is.” She stared at her squared-toe pump to keep the snicker down. What could a little sarcastic jab hurt?

      “A month ago.”

      She looked up. “What?”

      “I wrote the letter a month ago. It’s in my PDA. I can prove it.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.” But it did. She could plainly see by the disappointment caving his chest and dropping his shoulders, massive shoulders she might add, that it did matter to Manny. Maybe he really had turned over a new leaf. Otherwise, why would he obsess about the letter and when he wrote it?

      A soft groan came from him as he pushed himself up in the bed. His face looked strained and weary. Typical alpha guy—hurting and trying to act as if it wasn’t. Joseph did that when his kidney stones acted up, and Celia hadn’t been very sympathetic.

      “Manny, I’m sorry you crashed, and I’m glad you didn’t get hurt worse, or maybe even killed and I’m glad you gave your life to God, if you really did.” The words tumbled out so fast, they felt forced though she’d meant them sincerely.

      His brows rose slowly. “If I really did?”

      Ugh. Had she said that out loud? Why couldn’t she be better at this sort of thing? Learn how to think before speaking? Her mouth ran way ahead of her brain, and that was a fact. How could she stop this automatic, inherent suspicion of him?

      Judging by the look on Manny’s face, he picked up on it, too. Celia hated that she doubted him, but there it was again. Would she never be free of it?

      He tipped his chin at her. “Who messed you up, Celia?”

      Her back hit the spindles on the chair. She’d likely have a bruise on the skin over her spine. “What?”

      He dipped his head in a curt nod. “You heard me.”

      “That’s just weird.”

      “Your expressive face hides nothing, Cel.”

      Cel. No one had called her that since—

      The lump returned to her throat. Joseph.

      Fine. If Manny wanted the ugly truth, she’d let him have it. “I lived under the same roof with a man who acted one way on Sunday then a different way the rest of the week.”

      “Your late husband?”

      How’d he know about Joseph? She didn’t want him to assume he had a mean bone in his body.

      “No. My father. I have a tough time trusting and gauging if most Christians are for real. I was forced to attend a church oblivious that it was possessed by an evil deacon.”

      His brows rose. “Deacon possessed?”

      “Yes. No. My father was—never mind.” She just wanted to leave. How’d they shuttle down this road anyway?

      He folded bulky arms loosely over his chest and tilted his head to one side. “But you’re a Christian.”

      “Yeah, and I know how hard I struggle. I know that I’d fall flat on my face if He didn’t help me every step. I know what I’m capable of when left to my own devices. I pose a danger to myself and others, as you well know.”

      She meant the smack-down at the reception. Whether he picked up on that, she didn’t know because his expression gave nothing away.

      Then his face drooped with sadness. “I know the feeling.” He searched her face, her eyes, as if deciding whether to say more. That told her there was more on his mind than words conveyed. But what? What put that extra depth of dark in his eyes? What hid there? She aimed to find out. Only to understand him if they were to try and build a friendship. For Joel and Amber’s sakes, of course.

      “So, friends?” He uncrossed his arms and reached out his hand to her.

      Did he want her to actually shake on it? What if he put the moves on her again? Don’t be ridiculous, Celia.

      She tried hard not to judge. God knew she battled gladiators of doubt in that arena. It took a lot to convince her so she mostly kept church people at bay. Like right now.

      Manny’s hand dropped to the bed with a dull thud and he looked…dejected. Regret singed her stomach lining. She had no right pointing out other people’s faults when she stumbled over plenty of her own. Still, trust didn’t come easy to her and when it finally did, discernment of men’s ongoing motives ate at her constantly. Especially dangerous and powerful