just go back home. Except he didn’t have a home. Just an empty apartment near the base that he hated with a passion.
She’d moved to the back cab of her truck, helping a little boy down. That must be him. Her kid. The little boy who was sick. After he’d buried Trev, he’d done some calling around to find out more about the woman who now had care of Janus. He’d learned a lot about Claire Reynolds. He knew she’d started the rescue in honor of her deceased husband. They’d had trouble adopting his dog once he’d been discharged. The man had been sick and the dog had been healthy so the military had reassigned the dog—something that happened pretty frequently with wounded warriors—and so they’d lost out on the animal. The whole ordeal had prompted Claire to start Combat Pet Rescue and, when her husband had passed, to help write legislation that mandated combat veterans would have first pick at their dog. She’d thrown herself into the endeavor whole hog—or so he’d been told. And now her son was sick, too. Cancer. Pediatrician had caught it early, but still... Some people had no luck at all.
He watched as she hugged her son, and then straightened. Her hand found the top of his ball cap, rested there for a moment, then gently stroked it, as if she’d forgotten he didn’t have any hair. She snatched her hand away.
Some things just weren’t fair.
Trev’s wife was on her own now, too. At least she didn’t have a sick kid.
He found himself standing up before he could stop to think about what he planned to do. The waitress smiled at him as he left, and Ethan nodded before sliding past the family of four and out the glass doors. It was one of those perfect Saturday afternoons. The kind made for sitting on a porch and drinking tea. Blue sky. Probably 70 degrees. The smell of summer hung in the air thanks to a sidewalk planter that held rosemary and lilac.
He headed toward the store. Up and down the street, people went about their Saturday business. It was a picturesque town. Storefront windows. Dark green canvas awnings swooping low over the sidewalks. Boutiques sat next to hair salons that sat next to antiques stores; and in front of it all, cars parked at an angle. He ducked between two of those cars now, pausing for a moment to check traffic. Just his luck to come home after three tours in the Army and get mowed down while jaywalking. The traffic on Main Street was pretty light and he made it across in time to watch Claire and her son enter the store.
“You are not getting the John Deere tractor,” he heard her say. She’d disappeared between some shelves and he followed the sound. He spotted her as she made her way down an aisle filled with sprays and ointments and shampoos for animals and at the end of which lay a section of toys.
“But, Mom—”
“Don’t ‘but, Mom’ me. You have more toys than you know what to do with.”
Her son had her green eyes. He could tell because he’d stopped in front of a shelf of toys and now faced his direction. “But I don’t have this toy.”
Her ponytail swayed from side to side as she shook her head and reached for his hand. “They all look the same to me.” She tugged him toward her. “Come on. I need to talk to Mr. Thomson about that shipment.”
And then she faced him and froze. He did, too. Her son smacked into the back of her legs.
“Mo-om.”
And it happened again. That same shock of electricity that had hit him the first time he’d seen her, out there on the tarmac, the last place he’d expected to see such a beautiful woman, one with so much sadness in her eyes.
“Hello, Claire.”
* * *
SHE HAD TO be mistaken. It couldn’t be—
“Dr. McCall?”
He smiled and she knew it really was. A more casually dressed Ethan in jeans and a black T-shirt and a black cowboy hat, but still the man with the green eyes that jolted her to the core. Even now she had to look away and when she did...
Scars.
Her gaze snagged on them like a hangnail. They ran up his arms. Angry red wheals crisscrossed his flesh. He had a tattoo, too, she noticed now, some type of tribal thing that circled the top of his upper left arm. They were recent, those scars, and for the first time she realized he hadn’t just known the soldier who’d died, he’d been in combat with him.
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
Their gazes connected again and her stomach gave that familiar lurch, the one that made her feel dizzy and uncertain and maybe even a little scared. What was it about this man? Why did being in his presence elicit such a mix of emotions?
“You surprised me, all right.”
She hadn’t meant her words to come out sounding so strained, but she could tell he’d picked up on the tension she felt.
“If this is a bad time—”
“No, no.” Her eyes caught on Adam, who stared up at the man curiously. Her son might have recently turned six, but he had the mind of an adult, and she couldn’t help but notice the curiosity in his gaze.
“Adam, this is Ethan McCall, the veterinarian I was telling you about.”
“Were you in combat?”
Leave it to her son to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. He hadn’t learned to filter his thoughts, but she could tell Ethan wasn’t offended.
“I was.” His smile was soft and easy and it made her stomach twirl for a whole different reason. “Now I’m just a civilian.”
A civilian who could help her with Thor. She shouldn’t forget that. She should be grateful he’d driven all this way—and she was—she just hated the way his mere presence made her feel so out of sorts. He had that effect on her.
“My mom didn’t tell me you were a real soldier.”
He had wrinkles near the corners of his eyes, the kind that were so deep the skin was lighter where the cracks fanned out. Those lines disappeared as he smiled, as he did now. “Whoa there, partner. Everyone in the armed services is a real soldier.”
“I know.” Her son glanced up at her as if seeking reassurance. “My dad was in the Army.”
“So was I.”
Adam’s eyes widened, and he probably would have gone on about Marcus if Claire hadn’t touched his head as a way to silence him.
“So what brings you to town?” She asked the question even though she knew. Her phone call. She’d dialed his number without thinking. He hadn’t called her back. Honestly, a part of her had been relieved.
When he met her gaze she spotted discomfort in his eyes, maybe even uncertainty, something she would never expect to see in a man like Ethan.
“I was thinking I could look in on that dog for you, the one that’s giving you trouble. And Janus, if you still have him.”
She didn’t say anything. It took her a moment to realize he awaited a response. “Sure,” she forced herself to say. “Absolutely.” Come on, Claire, inject a little more enthusiasm. “That’d be great,” she said with
