*
Mariah was taking everything in and had learned more in the past five minutes about Quinn Walker than she’d known the entire two years of their mutual deployment. Watching him so at ease with his niece was unsettling. She was trying to picture herself that way and failing miserably. Then she made herself focus on them and not herself.
His brother’s house wasn’t elaborate, but it felt homey. The furniture was simple but beautiful. Family pictures on the walls rooted the house and its occupants in a past she would never know, and the pie Beth was cutting was like something out of a magazine. If it tasted half as good as it looked it would be amazing. She couldn’t cook worth a darn, and didn’t have a marketable skill beyond her sharpshooter medal and a better-than-average eye when it came to pinpointing liars.
Then she reminded herself that it didn’t matter, because she wouldn’t be here long enough for anyone to judge. As soon as she was able to stand on her own two feet again she would be gone. She and Quinn had a history, but nothing that had ever warranted a forever kind of bond. They’d shared a war and a bed, and that was all.
“How about that pie?” Ryal said.
“As you can see, I’m cutting it,” Beth said. “Why don’t you get the iced tea out of the refrigerator and make yourself useful?”
Ryal grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “He’s not usually this malleable. I think he’s just showing off for company.”
Mariah’s leg was throbbing. She needed some of her pain meds but was embarrassed to ask. When Beth put the pie on the table, Quinn scooted a piece toward her and handed her a fork. She took a bite and rolled her eyes.
“Oh, my gosh, this is good,” Mariah said.
Beth grinned. “It’s a recipe my Granny Lou gave me. She’s the best cook in the family.”
“Lou Venable is the best cook in both families,” Quinn said, then added for Mariah’s sake, “We’re actually distant cousins to the Venables, who happen to be Beth’s family, too.”
Mariah didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “You two are related?”
Ryal nodded. “We’re very distant cousins, which is not all that unusual on Rebel Ridge, although we all grew up knowing each other. Not a lot of people ever move off the mountain, and those who do usually wind up coming back. What about your family? Where are they from?”
“I have no idea,” Mariah said. “I was an abandoned baby who grew up in a series of foster families. Aging out of the system at eighteen means a kid like me winds up on the streets. I needed to belong somewhere, so I joined the army in the hopes of learning a trade and ignored the fact that we were already in a war.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ryal said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, don’t apologize. I don’t want anyone to cry for me. It is what it is, and Quinn already knew all this, which I assume is why he offered to babysit me through the rest of my healing.” She wouldn’t look at Quinn, couldn’t look for fear she would see pity, and that was something she couldn’t bear—not from him. “I am unbelievably grateful, but I can’t promise to be the ideal houseguest. My memory’s shot, and my leg is a mess.”
“But you’re alive,” Beth said. “And trust me, I know how to appreciate that more than most. But that’s enough serious stuff for now. Who wants ice cream on their pie?”
“I do,” Ryal said.
“Well, we all knew that,” Quinn drawled. “The only person in the family who eats more than Ryal is James.”
Mariah smiled and held out her plate. “I’ve been eating hospital food for two months. I won’t turn down ice cream.”
Beth doled out the ice cream, and for a few minutes conversation was sparse. As soon as they finished eating, Quinn carried their dirty plates to the sink.
“Thanks for the loan of the car and for helping out, but we need to get moving.”
Then he glanced at Mariah. Her hands were curled into fists and the knuckles were white. Damn it. How had he let her get that bad without noticing? He walked over to where she was sitting and leaned down.
“How bad are you hurting?”
“Enough.”
“The doctor gave you pain pills. Where did you pack them?”
“They’re in the outside pocket of my bag, the one with the zipper, not the snap.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Beth turned just as Quinn walked out. She started to ask where he was going, then saw the pain on Mariah’s face and guessed what was happening. She got a glass of water, then took it to the table and sat down beside her.
“I’m so sorry. Here we were acting like this was a party, and you just got out of the hospital. Why didn’t you say something?” she asked as she set the glass in front of Mariah.
“It just started getting bad a few minutes ago,” Mariah said.
Beth touched the top of Mariah’s head, then the side of her face. “You don’t have to hide how you feel from us. We don’t judge, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” Mariah said, then breathed a sigh of relief when Quinn came back.
“Here,” he said, and dropped two pills into her outstretched palm.
Mariah downed them quickly. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Do you need to go to the bathroom before we leave? Like I said, it’s about an hour to the cabin.”
“I guess,” she said, but when she tried to stand, her leg went out from under her. Quinn grabbed her before she fell. “Damn it!” she muttered.
“I got you,” he said, and slipped an arm around her waist to walk her down the hall to the bathroom door.
“Can you make it from here?”
There were tears in her eyes. “Yes. Just wait for me.”
“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
* * *
By the time they said their goodbyes and he got her to the Jeep, the pain pills were having enough of an effect that she was feeling some relief. He put a pillow on the passenger seat before helping her inside.
“The Jeep’s shocks aren’t as good as the SUV’s, but if you sit on this pillow I think it’ll help.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said, as Quinn reached across and buckled her in.
He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. What she was thinking was disconcerting in the midst of so much pain. Then he turned, and she found herself caught in his gaze.
“What happens if I want to worry about you?”
