working day and night to get him back. After all this time, he’s finally due to arrive tomorrow.”
Instinctively, she reached out to place her hand on his arm. “I heard about your efforts to bring Beacon home, and I’m so glad it’s finally happening.”
“Me, too.” He covered her hand on his arm briefly and she found herself liking the warmth of his skin. Then he moved away when the elevator arrived, breaking the connection. He held his hand over the electronic eye until she was safely inside, then stepped in behind her.
She told herself her reaction to Isaac was nothing more than misplaced gratitude for the way he’d saved her life with his impeccable timing. Yet she couldn’t help sending him a sidelong glance, appreciating his sandy-brown hair, chiseled features, clean-cut square jaw and bright green eyes. She glanced away, telling herself to knock it off.
Outside, the October air smelled of pine trees and morning glories. She loved autumn in east Texas; it was her favorite time of year.
“Lead the way,” Isaac said, when they reached the street in front of the hospital.
“I live in a small two-bedroom house about eight blocks from here,” she said, turning left and taking the road that went past the church and veterinary clinic. “My younger brother, Aiden, has been staying with me since his return from combat four weeks ago. He’s on medical leave, suffering badly from PTSD, and I’m at a loss as to how to help him.”
Isaac didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he finally spoke. “I’m working through my own issues, so I understand what he’s dealing with.” Isaac glanced at her, his eyes shadowed by the darkness. “I hope you realize he has a long road to recovery ahead of him.”
“I understand,” Vanessa said softly. “He’s doing everything right so far, attending therapy sessions with Lieutenant Colonel Flintman and taking his medication as ordered. Aiden is also on the list to get a therapy dog of his own, but the first attempt didn’t go well, and a second one hasn’t been made available to him yet.”
“I’ll talk to him, if you think it may help,” Isaac offered.
Vanessa was humbled by his willingness to put himself out there on behalf of a stranger. “Thank you, Captain. I’d be grateful for anything you can offer.”
“Sounds good. Maybe you can introduce me tonight, if he’s around. And please, call me Isaac.”
“If you’ll call me Vanessa,” she said with a smile. Despite her recent attack, she experienced a surge of hope. She was so grateful for Isaac’s willingness to help her brother, she could have hugged him, but managed to restrain herself.
Maybe Isaac was just what Aiden needed to turn the corner on battling his illness.
Maybe this was exactly God’s plan.
Isaac couldn’t believe he’d actually told Vanessa about his PTSD, something he rarely talked about outside of therapy sessions. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the urge to hide the truth about what he was going through.
Maybe this meant he’d turned the corner on his healing process.
The sound of a car door slamming shut made Vanessa jump and nervously glance over her shoulder. He reached out to capture her hand in his, recognizing she was still suffering the aftermath of her attack.
“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” he assured her. Would she end up having nightmares as a result of the near strangulation? He hoped not. “Tell me about Boyd Sullivan and why he wants to hurt you.”
She grimaced and shook her head. “Nothing to tell.”
Isaac chose his words carefully. “Vanessa, I know firsthand that talking through an event is better than keeping it bottled inside. And I’m willing to listen without passing any judgment.”
They took several steps heading west on Webster Street, past Canyon Drive, where most of the base housing was located, before she let out a heavy sigh. “There really isn’t anything to the story. Boyd holds a grudge against the Air Force for dishonorably discharging him and he’s coming after people who he believes are responsible for his downfall.”
He’d heard the same theories. The base had been on high alert for months now, and apparently with good reason. Sullivan was getting bold and impatient, judging by the way he’d sneaked into the hospital to attack Vanessa.
He cast a glance her way. She was beautiful, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, matching her chocolate-brown eyes. Beside him, she was petite in her pale blue scrubs covered by a white scrub jacket. Her honeysuckle scent made him think of home, and he was glad he’d been in the right place at the right time for once.
“And what about you? Did he want a personal relationship with you?” he guessed.
“Not at all,” Vanessa quickly denied. “In fact, I helped him one night while he was still in basic training, providing medical care for wounds he’d suffered as a result of a barroom brawl. He didn’t want to go to the ER and get in trouble, so I provided first aid from the kit I carry in my car. That’s why this attack doesn’t make any sense.” She paused, then added, “He told me that I was the first person to be nice to him without expecting anything in return. Does that sound like a rational reason to want me dead?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “I wonder if he thought your being nice to him meant you were interested in something more.” To be honest, Isaac couldn’t imagine any red-blooded man not being attracted to Vanessa.
He was attracted to her. Not that he was going to do anything about it. He let go of her hand, reminding himself that he wasn’t interested in another relationship. Been there, done that, didn’t work out, end of story.
In his experience women thought they could help a guy get over his issues, yet when they learned they couldn’t, they decided the guy wasn’t worth the trouble and moved on.
And maybe he wasn’t worth the trouble. He couldn’t blame Amber for leaving him when his panic attacks prevented him from leading a normal life. He especially didn’t appreciate her hovering over him. He used to think he’d get better and move on with his life, but he now understood PTSD didn’t ever go away. There were strategies to deal with it, sure, but it wasn’t like being treated for an infection that would be cured by a course of antibiotics.
No, this was more like having a chronic illness for the rest of your life.
“I’m sure he wasn’t interested in me that way,” Vanessa protested. “If he was, he didn’t pursue anything.” Then she added, “At the time I was drawn to him, not romantically, but in a maternal way. In a weird way, he reminded me of Aiden—young and a bit immature, yet trying to make something of himself. Silly now that I look back at it. Boyd wasn’t interested in anything but placing blame for everything that happened to him on someone else. Nothing was ever his fault, oh, no. It was everyone else out to get him.”
“Then why target you as someone who wronged him?”
“I have no idea.” She was silent for another block, then added, “And just so you know, I was working the night shift the night the dogs were let loose from their kennels. I know everyone believes Boyd had help from inside the base, but it wasn’t me. I’m not the one helping him.”
Isaac was surprised
