Page 47 of Defenseless
And now he found himself in the classic friends-to-lovers trope. Only he didn’t think it would be as easy to make the leap from one to the other as it was in the pages of the books. He didn’t see himself pulling her into his arms and kissing her out of the blue. Nor did he see her making the first move—not after the way she’d hurt him. No, she’d see the ball as being in his court as to where their relationship went from here.
And it was safe to say that there’d be no drunken nights to loosen the tongue for a while. At least not until the Jacobs situation was sorted out.
A knock sounded at his door, bringing all his questions to a grinding halt. Maybe Sabinawouldmake the first move…
“Come in,” he called.
The door swung open, and Sabina stood there. She’d showered as well, and her wet hair swung over her shoulders. She wore a pair of sleep shorts, showcasing her runner’s legs, and a hooded sweatshirt. From where he lay on his bed, with his hands behind his head on the pillow, he watched her. Waiting.
She didn’t move from the doorway. A long beat passed—a beat in which her eyes drifted over his body—then she took a deep breath and spoke. “Have you ever been so terrified of something that you get tunnel vision? It’s like you’re so scared you can only see one way out and your body, or mind, isn’t capable of processing anything else?”
Slowly, he nodded. “The first time I was in real combat was like that,” he said. Twenty years had passed since that day in Afghanistan, but he remembered it as though it was yesterday. He’d just graduated from West Point, and 9/11 was still an open, weeping wound in the collective memory of Americans. He and a small team had been sent out to reconnoiter a nearby village. Turned out the village happened to be playing temporary host to three members of Al Qaeda. He and his team had just entered when they started taking fire. Instincts and training had them scrambling for cover. But even after taking cover, the overwhelming need to just escape had nearly paralyzed him. He’d like to claim he overcame it on his own, but that hadn’t been the case. As the team lead, the others had looked to him for their orders. Between their expectations, and the screams of the locals caught in the crossfire, he managed to find a way out. He managed to pull his mind from his singular focus on fleeing to the task at hand.
He and the team made it out that day. And miraculously, none of the civilian villagers had died. It had been a humbling experience, though. Before that moment, he’d believed he knew all he needed to know, that he had so much experience and training that he’d know what to do. But the truth was, there was no training that could ever prepare someone for being under active fire, and it had been a shock.
“How old were you?” she asked.
“Twenty-two. Fresh out of West Point. I thought I was ready, but the only thing that can make you ready for combat, real combat, is combat itself. I almost lost my team because the fear paralyzed me.”
Her gaze softened, and he was aware that this was the first time they’d ever talked about something like this.
“My situation wasn’t anything like yours. Not really. But that’s how it felt,” she said, shifting on her feet but still staying at the door. “I was terrified that you would become another Nate or Uncle Mike. And terrified that something might happen to Kara. The only thing I could focus on was protecting the people I loved. And the only way I knew how to do that was to keep them at a distance. I couldn’t—I didn’t—see any other option.” She offered him a half-hearted smile. “It’s like every romance novel where the heroine keeps secrets to protect someone she loves, but only ends up hurting them.” She paused then shrugged. “I guess that trope is out there for a reason. Because I can tell you, my fear kept me from seeing any other options. And…I’m sorry. So very sorry,” she added, her voice so quiet, he could barely hear it.
He couldn’t help but smile at her reference to romance novels. It wasn’t the reaction she expected, and her brow furrowed.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head but grabbed the side of the comforter that wasn’t underneath him and flipped it up. “Come here,” he said.
Her gaze skittered from him to the bed then back to him. “If I get in, will you tell me why you smiled?”
“Why don’t you get in and find out.”
She eyed the bed again. “You’ll get cold if you stay on top of the covers.”
“I’ll live.”
She took a tentative step forward then another. When she reached the bed, rather than lie down on the blanket and sheet, she climbed under them. Once she was situated, she turned and tucked what would have been her half of the comforter around him. “You sure about this?” she asked. She’d turned on her side to face him, her hand tucked under her cheek.
He turned on his side, too, so they were face-to-face. “I’m sure.”
For a long moment, they lay there staring at each other. Finally, he smiled, rolled onto his back, and held out his arm. “Come on,” he said. “Snuggle up.”
Everything in him relaxed when she didn’t hesitate. A few seconds later, she was lying with her head on his shoulder, her body curled up next to his and her arm draped over his chest.
“Now are you going to tell me why you were smiling?” she asked, her breath fanning over his skin.
“I was trying to figure something out. You answered my question,” he said.
“Are you going to tell me the question?” she asked.
He brushed a kiss across her head and gave her a gentle squeeze, tugging her body even tighter against his. “Not tonight,” he said, not ready to tell her he’d been pondering how to shift their relationship from friends to lovers.
For the space of four breaths, she said nothing. Then she sighed and wiggled as close to him as she could get with the blankets between them. “What about telling me the answer?”
He smiled at that. “That’s easy. The answer is: one step at a time.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
