Wolf Haven. Lindsay McKenna

“The first time I got wounded,” Gray confided quietly, “I woke up and found myself at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.”

      “Gunshot wound?” Sky winced inwardly when he nodded. Gray seemed so strong and vital, as if nothing could harm him. Yet as she saw the darker brown in his eyes, she began to understand that when he was emotionally upset about something, that color was more prominent.

      “Yeah.” Gray finished off his chicken breast and the rest of the rice. Pushing the plate aside, he said, “I was with a good team. Kell Ballard was the lead petty officer. We were going in to rescue an American doctor who’d gotten kidnapped by the Taliban. It was a night mission, and I took a bullet to the left arm during the op. Kell saved my life. I was bleeding like a stuck hog from a torn artery, and he got a tourniquet around my arm. I don’t remember much after that, passing out.”

      Taking in a slow, ragged breath, Sky understood those types of wounds. “I saw my fair share of them at Bagram.” She lifted her gaze and held his turbulent-looking eyes. “Do you have any residual issues from the wound?”

      “No, not enough to get me medically discharged from the Navy,” he admitted.

      “Did you like being a SEAL?”

      “I liked being a shooter, and I was good at what I did.” He didn’t want to go any further with his life as a SEAL. Gray patted his thigh. “Later, I took another bullet. It took out fifty percent of my femur in the area where it struck. Even though I healed up, my leg was never going to be as strong as before and take the weight and beating it could before. My days with the SEALs were over at that point.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Sky whispered, seeing the sadness in his eyes. “SEALs are special. They’re a tight group of men. I’m sure your platoon were like brothers to you.”

      “They still are,” Gray said, always feeling the loss. “We stay in touch with one another to this day.”

      Sky began to eat again. “So, you’ve been out for just a year? After being discharged, you got the job here?”

      It was his turn to feel under a microscope. Gray clasped his hands on the table. “I got out three years ago.” Hoping to avoid more questions, he added, “I took a contractor’s job down in Peru for a little while. After that, I came home to Wyoming. My mother had been working with Iris Mason on the wildlife-center concept. She suggested me to run the facility for Iris, and the rest is history.”

      Sky sensed trepidation and grief around Gray. It was mirrored deep in his eyes. Nothing obvious. But there was a heaviness, much like a deep, untended wound in him. “Were you worried about finding a job when you got discharged? I know I was.”

      “Like every vet, yes, I was. I was worried about my money I’d saved drying up while I tried to find something. If I hadn’t had my mother’s lead on this job, I’m not sure how long it would have taken to find work. Did you have the same problem?”

      Groaning, Sky nodded. “I left the hospital and drove home to my parents’ place. I tried working as an R.N. at the local hospital, but the stress was too much for me.” She hitched her shoulder and whispered, “It was my PTSD. After that, I tried for any job that would hire me. I worked at a fast-food place, but again, the stress made me quit. I just couldn’t handle it, Gray.”

      “PTSD does that,” he agreed gently, seeing the shame in her expression.

      “My mother understood. But my father doesn’t to this day. He said it was all up in my head.”

      Anger flared within Gray. He stared disbelievingly at her. “He said that?” Tension thrummed within him as he saw the devastation in Sky’s eyes. She could hide nothing from him.

      “Yes. I just stood there looking at my dad, stunned. Wondering if he’d ever been tortured...ever been so scared of dying...” And she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it.

      “I know what it’s like to be scared,” he said.

      “You were a SEAL. You guys are always in danger. What you do could get you killed on any given day.”

      Gray nodded. “Right on. But it’s different for you, Sky. I don’t think most women in the military ever think about the possibility of capture.” Or being tortured. He wanted to tread lightly on the subject, but felt starved to know exactly what had happened to Sky.

      The only physical clues he could find were new, pink scars around her wrists. If she’d been waterboarded, Gray would bet his life she also had scars around her ankles. They tied the person down on a wooden board, cuffing their wrists and ankles. And knowing the Taliban like he did, they probably threw chains around her extremities, not caring if her flesh was ripped bloody as they dropped a cloth on her face and then poured water through it, suffocating her in the process.

      Sky moved her fingers in an aggravated motion through her loose hair. “No...I never, ever thought about capture or—” her voice lowered with pain “—torture.”

      He could see he’d pushed her far enough. There would be other days maybe, when Sky was emotionally stronger, that he could approach the topic with her again. “Hey, I made some chocolate pudding for dessert.” He rose in one fluid motion, picking up their plates. Giving her a warm smile, he asked, “Interested?”

      His smile was like hot sunlight through her icy gut and heavily beating heart. Just talking about her capture sent adrenaline spiking into her bloodstream, still too fresh, like an open wound in her soul.

      “Come on. You did a good job of eating,” Gray coaxed her. Indeed, she’d finished half the chicken breast, most of the rice and all of the salad. Not bad for someone who said they weren’t hungry. Gray gave her a pleading look and saw her resistance melt.

      “Well...I’ll try a little....”

      “I’m sorry I upset you,” Gray murmured, meaning it. “I’ll be back in a minute. Would you like some coffee? Water? Tea?”

      Water. Sky jerked inwardly. Even the word made her feel terror. Sky was unhappy with her overreactions, and yet she couldn’t stop or control them. “Coffee.”

      “Cream? Sugar?”

      “Both.”

      “You like it sweet and blond.”

      Rallying beneath his warm teasing, she felt Gray’s caressing care and protectiveness descending over her like an invisible blanket. The sensation was so comforting that Sky took a long, deep breath, feeling the adrenaline fading in her bloodstream. She began to relax. “That’s a Navy saying.”

      “Yep, sure is,” he said.

      Sky watched him work quickly and efficiently in the kitchen. There was never a wasted motion to Gray. Shockingly, she felt sexually hungry. It was a welcome sign that showed her she was healing from the capture. Sky had given up ever feeling normal in any way again. She wondered if Gray was in a relationship. Val had told her he was single. It was beyond her to think Gray would be eligible. Why was she thinking in that direction at all? He was her boss. It wasn’t good to mix personal with professional, and Sky needed this job too much to risk it.

      “Here you go.” Gray leaned over, handing her a white mug of steaming coffee. He placed a small bowl of chocolate pudding in front of her. He sat down, wrapping his hands around his mug.

      “Thanks.” Sky sipped the sweet coffee. “You’re a much better cook than you led me to believe.”

      “I reached my limit tonight, believe me.”

      “I think people are more than what they believe they are,” she said, picking up the spoon and tasting the rich chocolate pudding.

      “You’re a philosopher, too.”

      Coloring, Sky gave him a pained look. “Me? No.”

      “You have good insight into people. Maybe because you’re a nurse?”

      “My mother