Page 44 of Operation Rescue
“I know,” she said, her throat tightening and making it hard to get the words out. “He’s done nothing but try to see to Ethan, and to me. Which is why I hate, truly hate the way I get mad at him. He doesn’t deserve that.”
A long and—for her at least—painful silence spun out. When she finally looked at the man across the kitchen counter from her, she saw him swallow as if his own throat was tight. Then, very quietly, he said, “Maybe…maybe you’re not mad at him, or not solely. Maybe you’re mad at yourself.”
She blinked, drew back. “What?”
He grimaced. “Voice of experience here. Charlie and I butted heads constantly for years. We…hated each other. Were constantly mad at each other. Or so we thought.”
“But?”
“She was only…reacting to me being always angry when she was around. And it wasn’t her I was mad at.”
She remembered what Blaine had told her. “You were mad at yourself?”
“Yes.”
He looked as if it pained him to even remember, so she didn’t pry. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would easily share deeply personal things with essentially a stranger, and she understood. She didn’t explain to even her closest friends that the reason she and Blaine had split had been her own cowardice and she was—
She was mad at herself for it.
She stared at the man with those eyes that looked as if he had seen far too much, and too much of it awful. Was that how he had read her so accurately? Because he recognized what he’d felt in her?
His phone chimed an alert.
“And that,” he said flatly as he reached for it, “is the end of my poking my nose into what isn’t my business.”
“I think they call that ‘mission accomplished,’” she said quietly, feeling she needed to acknowledge what had obviously not been easy for him—and what had struck such a chord in her.
His gaze shot back to her face as if she’d startled him. But when he went back to tap the phone screen, he was smiling.
A while later Blaine came back in with Cutter.
“Man, my arm is tired, but he’s still ready to blast off.”
Rafe chuckled. “I think I’m the only one to ever wear him out. And it wasn’t from chasing a ball.”
He had a look on his face that told Erin there was a lot more depth to that statement than appeared on the surface.
The dog came over to her and nudged her hand. She stroked his dark head, savoring the soft fur, again felt that sense of calm and comfort, and wondered why on earth she’d been so adamant about not letting Ethan have a dog. Of course, this one was obviously special, from what Rafe had told them. But she had the feeling every dog was special in its own way, and maybe, just maybe, she’d deprived both of them of something good by clinging to her old reasons for not adding a pet to their little family.
She was aware of Blaine coming to sit down beside her—close, but not too close—but she wasn’t prepared for what he said, because she’d almost forgotten how good he was at reading her.
“Second thoughts about the ‘no pets because we’re always moving’ rule?”
Her gaze shot to his face, and she looked into those blue eyes that she so loved. Still. And driven by that admission she gave him an answer she’d never given anyone.
“It wasn’t just that. It was…it felt like it would be trying to replace you in our lives. And nothing could ever do that.”
His eyes widened, and he looked actually shocked. At the words, or at the fact that she’d said it, she didn’t know. “Then why—”
He cut off the question she didn’t want to answer when Rafe got up and walked over to them. “Walker’s inbound, due to land in about fifteen, so I’m going to head up to get him. We may need to make a stop or two—he wants to make some calls, plus he’ll want to see Amy. By then it’ll be late, so I’ll crash at Foxworth. We’ll be here bright and early for a planning session.” He looked at Cutter. “Dog?”
The dog looked up at Rafe, then he turned to face him and sat down practically on Erin’s feet. He just looked at the man who was his surrogate owner at the moment.
“Really?” Rafe asked, one brow lifting. Then he looked at her and Blaine, and she saw that look of understanding again. “Ah,” he said. “Okay, your call, dog.”
He shifted his focus to her and Blaine, and she wondered what those long-distance gray eyes had seen. “He self-regulates on food, so just leave some of that kibble in the bowl.”
“You’re leaving him here?” Blaine asked, sounding as surprised as she felt.
