His Soldier Under Siege. Regan Black

who might see them together. A lonely butterfly flew a tight spiral in her belly before she grounded it. She was reading too much into it. Her arrangement with Derek was private. Sharing a conversation over coffee wouldn’t expose their secrets, even if someone from the unit happened to see them.

      “We’ll see,” she hedged, needing time to sort out if her hesitation stemmed from guilt or something less easily defined. “I’ll stop by once Kevin’s settled in his room. We can decide then.” He might be too tired or too worried to leave his brother’s side.

      A pucker appeared between his golden-brown eyebrows as he studied her. “Okay.”

      She hurried away, the soles of her shoes squeaking rapidly in her wake. Her mind flickered back to Derek as she moved between patients and responsibilities. Did she want to have coffee with Derek? Oh, yeah. Especially if coffee was a euphemism for something far more physical, distracting and life affirming.

      She had to get a grip. Biologically, she was well aware that sex was one of the most common coping mechanisms after a loss or in a crisis. And though hooking up with Derek had proved mutually beneficial, she didn’t feel fair connecting with him physically just to take her mind off her ever-expanding abyss of guilt over what happened to Kevin.

      Of course, fairness wasn’t something life tossed out very often. Both she and Derek knew that firsthand. A cajoling, suggestive voice in her head reminded her that this affair had been his idea. And hadn’t she happily continued their casual hookups every three or four months for the better part of the past two years?

      She’d felt more than a passing interest spark when she’d been introduced to him at a gathering for families prior to Kevin’s first deployment with the unit. Those sparks had fired a bit stronger at the homecoming picnic that wrapped up that particular tour.

      Her lips tingled, as they did every time she recalled their first kiss. A rushed moment, stolen in the shadows as the sun set on a full and happy day, it had been a kiss full of tantalizing promises. Promises they’d kept to each other through various camping trips and outdoor excursions no one else knew about.

      His friendship was priceless. He was so different from the men and women who made up the rest of her world. Though they didn’t see each other on a regular basis, he’d become her haven in a world that could turn from beauty to frightful on a whim. On rough days, her stolen time with Derek buoyed her spirits and gave her something positive to look forward to.

      She didn’t want to lose that or hurt him with might-have-beens. She had to tell him it should’ve been her on that helicopter, even if it meant the end of their friendship.

      Derek craved a breath of fresh air. The odor of hospital and antiseptic was embedded in his clothes. He could feel it seeping into his skin. And he was doing what he always did in hospitals—overreacting. He closed his eyes and focused on that sweet feeling of Grace Ann’s hug. The one she’d given him in public, at her workplace. Marveling over the gesture calmed him enough to take another deep breath. To stay put. He hoped that hug would be enough to carry him through the challenging moments to come.

      By the time they had his brother settled in the hospital room, Derek found his second wind, or maybe it was the third or fourth. He’d lost count of how many times he’d fought back from the undertow of exhaustion and panic since the unit had notified him about the crash.

      Unfortunately, he was pretty sure one more adrenaline spike was the last thing he needed. Steady as he’d been through all the waiting, the familiar mixture of worry for his brother and aggravation with essentially feeling helpless was creeping in. It put an edgy buzz in his ears, under his skin, that he couldn’t shake off.

      From the moment Kevin had announced his intent to join the army, a piece of Derek had been waiting, braced for “the call.” The call that would make him the last Sayer on his family tree.

      He dropped into the bedside chair. He should be used to this weight on his shoulders, having become Kevin’s emergency contact at the age of eighteen when their parents had been killed in a car crash. Grief and the sudden onset of responsibility had changed everything about him. He’d willingly stepped into the breach—would do so again now—but the carefree teenager he’d been occasionally wanted to act out at the unfairness of it all.

      Anger swelled at the sight of his brother in the hospital bed, tethered to several machines monitoring who knew what. Derek reeled in his temper. Negativity wouldn’t help. Kevin wasn’t on life support and he would make a full recovery, eventually.

      After he’d waited out the surgery with Kevin’s commanding officer, seeing Grace Ann had steadied him. Their brief conversation had been a spark of hope. And that hug... He’d nearly buried his head in the sweet-scented softness where her neck curved into her shoulder. Hardly fair and nowhere close to appropriate, considering their personal relationship was top secret. No one even knew they were more than acquaintances.

      He liked it that way. The setup worked for both of them. No pressure, no questions, no conversations about what might come next. She must still approve, as well, or she would’ve stopped meeting up with him on the random weekends when their schedules meshed. On occasion, he’d debated the wisdom of the casual, no-responsibility thing they had going and couldn’t manage any shame. They had mutual interests and were definitely compatible and so far, neither of them had met anyone worth making a change to an arrangement they both enjoyed.

      “Knock, knock.” Grace Ann’s quiet voice preceded the sight of her face peering around the door. “Can I come in?”

      “Please,” he managed, practically jumping to his feet. He should keep his distance, especially here. This was her place of business, the unit her second family, yet he couldn’t resist the appeal and comfort of having her near.

      Her relaxed, easy smile as she walked into the room was reminiscent of early mornings on their many camping trips. Under a clear sunrise, her cap of short dark hair gleamed and her soft fair skin and deep brown eyes radiated warmth. He never tired of seeing her in those remote, solitary settings, knowing the moments they shared were only for the two of them.

      Selfish? Maybe. He cataloged it as self-preservation. Other women eventually expected more than he could give. Grace Ann, raised in a boisterous and busy military family, was too independent to make demands on him.

      Today, with the whir and beeps of machines and the cold, clinical smells surrounding them, their backdrop was a far cry from the pace and peace of nature. Here, dressed in her scrubs, her stethoscope in her pocket and a bulky watch on her wrist, she was a professional, though he desperately wanted to lean on her as a friend without fear of being caught in the act.

      “How’s he doing?” She stopped at the foot of the bed, adjusting the blanket tucked around Kevin’s feet.

      “You probably know better than I do.” Derek winced at the hard edge in his voice. He hated hospitals almost as much as he hated standing by, helplessly waiting. He held up his hands, surrendering. “Sorry. Apparently I’m too tired to be civil.”

      “That’s to be expected,” she murmured.

      In the privacy of the room, with Kevin unconscious, her lips curved into one of those smiles he enjoyed only when they were alone. Her eyes warmed with compassion, chasing away the persistent chill he’d been fighting since walking into this building.

      “Has he been awake at all?” she asked, turning her focus to one of the monitors.

      Derek shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets, uncomfortable with the needs at war inside him. He could handle this, had handled worse in the past. “A minute or two,” he replied. “Long enough to tell me to lighten up.”

      “That’s his special skill around here,” she said, patting Kevin’s shoulder. “He keeps all of us from taking ourselves too seriously.” Sadness drifted over her like a fog, first shadowing her eyes, then flowing down over the rest of her in those shapeless scrubs.