The Soldier's Holiday Vow. Jillian Hart

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      “Now, I never said that exactly. I love being a Ranger, but it comes at a high cost. I almost opted out. Losing my best friend was hard on me. In the end I feel committed to what I do. I don’t think I will ever give up the military. Although you have a nice peaceful life here. Spending your days doing what you love. It’s got to be a good gig.”

      “I like it.” She tried to resist the pull of his kindness. “It’s not saving the world.”

      “There are many ways to save the world. Teaching kids to ride and show their horses, that’s a good way for them to spend their time. Instead of some alternatives.”

      “I’ve never thought of it that way. There are a lot of good life lessons in caring for a horse and establishing a trusting relationship.”

      “Maybe that’s where I went wrong in life. I didn’t have a horse.” He winked at her, but she got the feeling he was covering up something that saddened him. He rose from the chair and swung it back into its original place. “Well, I don’t want to take up more of your time. I’m glad you’re doing well, that’s what I had to know.”

      “Thanks to you.” Her throat tightened, and if she didn’t say it now, then she never would. “It was easier seeing you again this time, when I expected it.”

      “You knew I would drop by?”

      “Yes. It’s something a man like you would do.” She blushed at the compliment she paid him, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable when she didn’t want to feel anything at all. “When we were in the mine and I first saw your face, I knew everything was going to be all right.”

      “That has to do with you, September, the woman you are. I did my job, that’s all.”

      How she wished she could turn back time and work it so her life and Tim’s could have turned out differently. She would give anything to fix what had been broken, both in her and for Hawk, as well. He’d lost one of his best friends, a friend he hadn’t been able to protect.

      She didn’t know what to say to him as he crossed toward the door. A knock startled her. Her sister hurried into the room with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and gave Hawk a narrow look.

      “And here I thought you would be bored waiting for me.” Chessie backtracked. “I didn’t know you had a visitor. I can come back. I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

      A seed of panic took root between September’s ribs. Panic, because her sister had jumped to the wrong conclusion—that she and Hawk were interested in each other. Even the thought of opening herself up like that again terrified her. “No, stay.”

      A little too abrupt, September, she told herself. Hawk had to have heard the sharpness in her tone. What was he thinking?

      “No need.” His rich, buttery baritone rang reassuringly. “I’m on my way out. September, you take care now.”

      “You, too, Hawk.” The words squeaked out of her throat.

      His gaze fastened on hers, making the room and her sister’s presence fade away. She saw something akin to her own wounds shadowed there, hiding in his eyes. Her pulse skyrocketed over the fact that she wanted something she no longer believed in.

      “I hope you find that happy ending you always wanted. You deserve it, September.” His voice resonated with sincerity. Saying nothing more, he nodded in acknowledgment to her sister and strode from the room. The pad of his boots on the tile faded to silence, but his presence somehow remained.

      “Good-looking guy.” Chessie poked her head around the door frame to get another look. “Who is he?”

      “One of the Rangers from Fort Lewis who found Crystal and me.” She breathed a sigh of relief, troubled by the man and his shadows. At least he understood. He had his wounds, deeper and more severe than hers could ever have been. War could do that to a man.

      “There was road construction. Sorry. I should have remembered, but you know me, too much on my mind.” Chessie plopped the duffel on the foot of the bed and unzipped it. “So, are you going to date him?”

      “Date Hawk?” There was a picture she couldn’t quite bring into focus. “Hardly.”

      “I had to ask. You never know. Time heals all wounds. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but one day things will be better.”

      “I’m sure you’re right.” She didn’t believe it, but she didn’t want to drag her sister down. “Did you remember to bring shoes?”

      “Are you kidding? There’s nothing more important than shoes.” Chessie pulled a pair of snazzy boots from the bottom of the bag. “Ta-da. See, your big sister won’t ever let you down.”

      “You’re one blessing I’m grateful for.” She smiled, trying too hard to find the normalcy her life had once been. It didn’t work, but she hoped she looked as if it did. She feared she would always feel out of sync, as if she were looking at her own life through a foggy mirror. She thought of Hawk and wondered what he was doing with his day off. She wondered how he managed to walk in the light with so many wounds in his soul.

      Hawk strode through the automatic doors and into the blinding sunlight. The cool kiss of the mid-December breeze felt pleasant against his skin. He’d stopped by to see the little girl, Crystal, but she was in ICU and not taking any visitors. He’d met her mom, though, and learned that they expected to move her out onto a floor that afternoon. Things were looking up. He’d left a balloon bouquet with Patty, and that was that. He had no more reason to think about September Stevens. So, why was she on his mind?

      It was a mystery. Loose ends, maybe, or just the fact that their paths had crossed. He hauled his bike key from his pocket, fiddling with it as he hiked toward the parking lot. If only he could have stayed away. Seeing her again tied him up in knots, and he was afraid to look at those tangled threads too closely.

      He straddled his Harley and plugged in the key. While the engine rumbled, he hauled his helmet off the backrest and that’s when he saw her. His gaze drew to her like fate. September, in a mandatory wheelchair, emerged from the automatic doors onto the concrete walkway, with his gardenias in her arms.

      How pretty she looked. She wore a light pink T-shirt that said Ride for the Cure, jeans and black riding boots. Her softly bouncy hair shone like cinnamon in the sunshine. She was still as sweet as ever. She’d always been delicate and kind, and not even life’s hardships had changed that. He surely hoped that God had been watching over her specially, as he’d kept her in prayer. He would never forget seeing her after the funeral, an image of perfect grief. He’d been in awe of her. What would it be like to love so much? To have been loved like that?

      He tugged on his helmet and yanked on the straps to secure them. Across the way, a light blue SUV crawled to a stop at the curb, and September’s sister emerged from it. With a hurried gait, she started loading the flowers several hospital volunteers were carrying. They scolded September for standing and trying to help out. He spotted a few arrangements already in the back of the SUV.

      He grabbed the grips and fed the engine. The bike gave a satisfying roar. Something kept him from leaving. Maybe it was the sight of September, pale and fragile with a bandage on her forehead and a pink cast on her left arm. Yep, that got to him. He couldn’t hold back the pounding need to look after her. He wanted to be the one to take care of her. It wasn’t a conscious choice.

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