Page 247 of Unexpected Heroine

Sweet woman was shot last night. According to the rumbles I overheard, she also went through a PTSD blackout. And now this drama lands at her feet.

I have no idea when she appeared in the conference room doorway. Judging by her posture at the door when I left, she caught the highlights.

Despite wanting privacy, I don’t send Madeline away. Her presence is soothing.

Lettie plops backward, her butt hitting the floor as she shifts her weight off her knees and moves her legs in front of her. With another wad of tissues, she wipes her face. For the moment, it seems she’s got her body back under control.

She tosses all the used tissues in the trashcan, pushing it away. “Wow. Good job, Lettie.” She clicks her tongue, then peers up at me from under a wave of her blond hair that’s fallen to shield the side of her face. “Was that everything you thought it would be?”

I offer her the water. “I could ask the same of you.”

She studies the offered bottle, her eyes narrowing to slits and lips pursing. “Will you open it for me, please?”

Odd.

In all the interactions I’ve seen since she left me, she’s had to open her drinks herself. And since going into the shelter, her meals and snacks too.

Nonetheless, I’d never deny her anything, let alone such a simple request. Holding the bottle where she can see it, I twist the lid to break the seal and offer it to her.

She takes it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sugar bear.”

Right before she lifts the bottle to her lips, she closes her eyes and shakes her head. Barely audible, she whispers, “Of course I can drink it from him.”

I watch as she swallows it down, noting the bob in her throat, remembering all the times I kissed her there. How I’d linger my lips at her pulse point while getting lost inside her body and letting her love surround me.

Madeline takes a few steps around us, bringing herself in view of Lettie. “Can I get you something, dear? Crackers? Ginger ale? A blanket, maybe? Want me to take you to the restroom? Pretty sure I have some mouthwash in my purse in Alan’s office.”

Ah. That’s why she stayed. To offer the comfort that only a woman can.

She nods slowly. “Bathroom and mouthwash would be good. Thanks.”

Putting my feet beneath me, I take a deep breath and extend my hand to her. “I’ll help you up.”

The tentative way she slips her hand into mine crushes me from the inside out. She doesn’t want to touch me.

I must disgust her.

When I help her rise, her gaze stays downcast, but she doesn’t turn her body from me right away. Nor does she release my hand. Unless I’m hallucinating it, she pulses her delicate fingers around mine.

Probably only my imagination.

And then her eyes finally journey up my chest and land on my face. In that moment, I know undoubtedly the hand squeeze was not my imagination.

I can see it. It’s not gone. Not entirely.

Some remains.

Hidden behind her glassy eyes is love.

For me.

I recognize it so clearly since she’s the only woman to ever look at me that way.

“Lettie,” I whisper, trailing my free hand over her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t.”

Subtly shaking her head, she asks, “What doesn’t?”