She picked her way through a minefield of possible responses and, as was her peculiar talent, selected the most painful one. ‘But not for you?’
His eyes blazed like emerald coals. ‘That unit was my family, Romy. I would have died for any one of them and I nearly did, several times. So to be turned on by the men who I would have taken a bullet for…To have the corps call my courage into question, my honour…’
Death before dishonour.
Romy shuddered. He’d watched his mother desert his father; then his lieutenant betrayed him, his brothers-in-arms turned on him, his corps abandoned him. The only person he had in the world was Justin. The already strong brotherly bond doubled.
Amazing he could still function, really. That spoke of enormous strength behind those fathomless eyes. She slid her hand onto his where it gripped the steering wheel desperately.
A road train thundered by, its long string of sidelights casting an eerie glow onto his face. He glanced down at her fingers on his and pulled them free. He returned his attention to the dark road and started the car.
She stared at his tortured profile. There was more. Something she was missing. This was about more than just Clint.
‘Is he still inside the system? Your lieutenant?’
Clint snorted. ‘Deep inside it. Brig-deep. He won’t be seeing the outside of a military prison for another decade.’
‘Good. He deserves it.’
‘Maybe we both do.’
She sucked in a quiet breath. ‘You blame yourself for the boy that died.’
The silence stretched for an eternity. ‘But for some geography, that could have been Leighton.’ His voice was thick and low. ‘Just a regular little kid before the conflict started. The only one left to defend his mother and sisters. Terrified.’
The image of Leighton bleeding to death into the desert sands trying to protect her roiled from her brain to her stomach. She cleared her throat. ‘You didn’t kill him.’
‘I didn’t save him.’
‘You can’t be responsible for every child. Every loss.’
Romy’s heart ached for the pain she saw etched there. Then he spoke again, as if he couldn’t seal off the floodgate now he’d opened it.
‘I nearly killed Justin once.’ Her shocked silence was question enough. ‘In the dam down from your cottage. I was supposed to be watching him. I was showing off for some local girls whose parents were visiting mine. Older girls. Pretty girls.’
Her whispered words were measured. ‘He got in trouble in the water?’
‘He was struggling in the water. I didn’t notice for nearly a minute.’
Romy’s hand slid up onto his leg. Entirely inadequate.
Sixty seconds without oxygen…
‘One of the girls was a pool attendant in the city in the summer holidays. She resuscitated him after I pulled him out. He was only five.’
Making Clint only thirteen. Still a child himself. Too young to take on that guilt. Too young not to. ‘You mentioned that you owed him.’
‘His development was slowed after that. For years it looked like he’d never be able to learn like everyone else.’ His bitter smile twisted. ‘The man Mum ran off to the States with was Justin’s developmental specialist.’
Charming.
‘He seems pretty normal now.’ Romy suppressed the memory of the nasty glint in Justin’s eyes at the dance. No wonder Clint was protective of his brother. He’d probably spent a lifetime being subtly reminded of what had nearly happened. Empathy welled up for the guilt-ridden young man Clint must have been. The damaged man he’d grown into. She cleared her throat. ‘If he got a front-of-house role in a major hotel, Justin can’t have had much lasting damage.’
He nodded, slow and thoughtful. ‘Pure luck. And skill on the part of Richard Long, my stepfather. It could have been very different.’
Romy took the opportunity. She lightened her words. Carefully, carefully…‘He doesn’t really talk about it much. His US job.’
Clint slid his glance sideways. ‘Leave it, Romy. Stop fishing for mystery you won’t find.’
‘I’m just curious.’ Because the Joliet Grovesnor had no record of a concierge called Justin Long. Or Justin McLeish. And that’s where Simone said he’d earned his management stripes. ‘I’d like to know more about how they run the big US hotels.’
‘Then ask him.’
The idea of having a reasonable conversation with Justin Long was laughable. Even before she’d half crippled him with her Vulcan death grip. But if he was lying to Clint, she wanted to know about it. It was her job. ‘I might just do that.’
The past fifteen minutes explained so much. Why wouldn’t you shut yourself away after an incident like he’d experienced in the military? Who would you trust?
She thought about her father and what sorts of things he must have seen in his time in active service, what that might do to a man. How it must take extra strength even to do the day-to-day things, never mind the horrendous things they were tasked with. Had her father done any of that? She thought about how there was no weapon on this earth strong enough to fight the infection which took her mother, and how a control freak like the Colonel must have felt about being powerless. About the baby whose birth caused the deadly, aggressive infection.
She frowned.
Clint had been ripped out of his unit, away from the men he was closest to, and look how it had affected him. The Colonel was recalled unexpectedly from active duty to come home and raise a motherless infant single-handed and assigned forever after to passive training and admin roles. It didn’t change one moment of the misery that was her childhood, but it did make her appreciate, a tiny bit, how it must have been for the Colonel twenty-six years ago.
And why he might have viewed her as the enemy her whole life.
LEAVING Romy alone, injured and patently conflicted, on her front verandah last night had been one of the hardest things Clint had done since coming to WildSprings. Every part of him wanted to scoop her up and carry her inside. Tuck her into bed. Bind her ankle. Spoil her. Instead, he’d locked her car up and footed the mile home in the dark, walking off some of his tension.
It had helped. A little.
The morning coffee was helping more. He sipped the battery-acid-strength brew.
Romy had a way of bringing out the caveman in him and then making him feel ridiculous for it. And he didn’t feel like overtures of kindness would be welcomed from him. Not after he’d near mauled her back at the fundraiser. Thanks to her father,
