a hand signal to go join Mouse, who was ever the gentleman, sitting near his big doggy bed in the corner of the large living room. They sniffed and smelled one another in greeting, tails moving excitedly back and forth.
Sloan gestured to the kitchen table. “I don’t imagine you’ve had dinner yet?”
Wrinkling her nose, Dev took the chair he pulled out for her. “No...and honestly? I don’t feel up to a full meal just yet. The cheese and crackers look good, though.” She glanced up, smiling at him.
Sloan saw that Bella was lying down near Mouse, both of them panting and gazing adoringly at one another. Mouse was better behaved than Sloan was feeling right now. Dev’s dark hair was smoothed and brushed. Her cheeks were flushed and as always, his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second. Sloan sat down at her elbow, sliding the cold beaded glass of white wine toward her. “What happened? You looked a little stressed earlier.”
She nibbled on the cheese and then took a sip of the wine. “Right before 5:00 p.m., an older lady fainted at our desk. Out of the blue. Scared the hell out of me.”
“What was wrong with her?”
“I think a stroke, but I’m not sure. I ran around the counter after she collapsed and with the help of Becky, who was also working a shift, we got her lying down with her head tipped back so she could breathe.”
“I’ll bet the other visitors were upset,” Sloan guessed, taking a drink of beer, the bubbles feeling good in his mouth.
Dev rolled her eyes. “That was the worst part. The woman’s daughter went ballistic. She was shrieking and screaming, completely losing it.”
“People never know what they’ll do until they’re faced with a crisis,” Sloan mused. “Could you talk the daughter down?”
“No,” Dev said, blowing out a big sigh. “I told Becky to deal with her while I stayed with the unconscious woman until the ambulance arrived. A third ranger, Randy, quietly moved all the tourists out of the center and stood guard at the door, giving us some privacy and space.”
“Sounds like you handled it the best you could.”
“Yes, but it really shook me up,” Dev admitted, picking up a cracker.
“It would anyone,” Sloan told her gently. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Dev.” There was something in her eyes, deep in the recesses of them, that Sloan couldn’t define. That same terror he’d seen weeks ago was lurking in their depths. Dev’s brow creased as she frowned and she took a deep drink of the wine. He could see a slight tremble in her fingers around the glass stem as she set it down.
“Well,” Dev muttered, giving him a worried look, “there’s more to this, but you probably realize that.”
Sloan sat back, stretching out his long legs beneath the table. “I can see you’re upset, Dev. What did this event trigger for you?” He might as well try to get her to talk about it. Even though they hadn’t had a lot of time together, it was obvious he and Dev shared something good between them. Would she trust him and let her guard down with him? Sloan didn’t know. He could see her struggle with his question. She pushed her fingers through her hair and he was beginning to understand that with Dev, it was a gesture of nervousness, of not being sure about something.
So, he waited. Sloan had learned a long time ago when dealing with fractious horses that hated being shod, that just standing quietly and patiently, letting the animal get it out of their system, was the best course of action. And he thought Dev needed that same kind of response from him if she was going to share whatever it was that had triggered the terror in her eyes again.
“Well,” she mumbled, wrapping both hands around the wet stem of the wineglass, “you’re right. It hit me a lot harder than I expected...the noise...the screams...the ambulance...”
Sloan met and held her eyes, seeing the trepidation in them. Dev compressed her lips. “You were in the Marine Corps,” he offered quietly. “And from what you’ve told me, with that IED going off close to you and Bella, plus getting wounded, you probably have a little PTSD from the event. It would be expected, Dev.”
Her mouth thinned further, one corner pulling inward as she gave him a swift look and then returned her gaze to the wineglass in front of her. “I do have PTSD. It wasn’t half as bad as it is now, though...”
Frowning, Sloan remained relaxed, although his instincts told him that Dev needed to be held. Her fingers opened and closed constantly around the stem of the wineglass. He could feel the tension in her because his sixth sense was finely honed from years working in Afghanistan, where every minute he and Mouse could have died if they weren’t careful. His hyperawareness wasn’t something Sloan wanted many people to know about because it usually made them uncomfortable in his midst. Some accused him of having X-ray vision. Or being a mind reader. But it was neither. He just had very well honed instincts at an animal level he’d used to sense out situations that might have been lethal to him and Mouse. Even after leaving the Army, that skill remained online to this day.
The feelings he sensed around Dev were devastating to Sloan. Strong emotions, intense and shattering. What the hell had happened to her? He keyed in on her statement that her PTSD was worse now than before. What did that mean? Had there been another incident in the Marine Corps that had deepened it? Made it worse? He knew there were so many dark emotions that came with their military work in an enemy-rich environment.
Sloan had to stop himself from reaching out and enclosing his hand around Dev’s nervous fingers, now wet from the beads of moisture sliding downward off the wineglass. Even more telling was that Bella had come over and sat down, feeling Dev’s stress. Dogs picked up in a heartbeat on how their human handlers were feeling. Even the Lab looked worried as she studied her mistress.
Dev reached over, giving Bella a pat on the head.
Sloan watched Dev gird herself, straightening her spine, and then she gave him an apologetic glance.
“I guess this incident triggered something that happened to me six months ago.”
Sloan nodded, saying nothing, not wanting to stop her from speaking.
“I was...well... There was this red-haired ranger named Bart Gordon at the HQ where I worked out of in Smoky Mountains National Park.” Dev lowered her voice. “He was always smiling at everyone. He worked with me at the visitor’s center sometimes. It was the only place I ever saw him. Bart had a way with women. If a little girl was crying, he’d come around the counter, crouch down and speak to her and she’d stop crying. He had a kind of magic with women, no matter what their age.”
The terror rushed forward in Dev’s eyes as she spoke, her voice as strained as her expression. Bella moved closer to Dev, placing her head in her lap. Dev automatically stroked her worried dog.
“I was usually out doing tracking with Bella, but I’d heard from my boss that Bart was really a great PR person for the Forest Service because he had a way with words and people.”
Dev gulped and swallowed, her eyes trained on the glass. Something had happened and Sloan’s mind instantly leaped to a place he was reluctant to explore. “What happened between you?”
Dev snapped her head in his direction, her eyes widening. “Am I that obvious?”
Sloan gave her a warm look meant to ratchet down her tension. Instantly, her shoulders dropped. “No.
