we’ve all been. Ever since we were told you were missing in action—” The lovely soft pink in her face disappeared, and in the faint light she looked snow-white. Pain twisted across her face. “I was scared for you.”
Just like that, she got behind his steel defenses. He hated the fact that she’d been worried. “I wasn’t missing. Not in the true sense of the word. I knew exactly where I was.”
“Yes, but we didn’t, hence the ‘missing’ part. And I did miss you. I was worried to death.”
“No, I was misplaced for a while, nothing more.”
Rachel wasn’t fooled. Her eyes filled with tears and she was suddenly in his arms—his sweet little sister who’d always seemed so fragile, and here she was crying over him when he was perfectly fine. Over him, when there had been so many others who hadn’t come out of the ambush alive.
“You’re wasting your tears, you know.” He tried to be gruff.
She swiped the dampness from her cheeks and pushed away from him, leaving him with a hole the size of the state of Montana in his chest. Wishing he knew what to do or what to say. Wishing he knew how to stick. He was a horrible big brother, and he was at a loss as to how to fix it.
He’d do anything to protect and provide for his sisters, but the truth was simple: he wasn’t good at relationships. He was better at bailing out—staying away—than at being here. He liked to keep an arm’s distance from intimacy, and he never shared the real Ben McKaslin. Not with Rachel.
Not with anyone.
He kept relationships simple and on the surface. It was easy to do when he lived so far away. All he had to do was send quick letters with funny anecdotes, e-mail with jokes, that kind of thing. But here in person, when he had to relate face-to-face, that’s where he felt how closed off he’d become. He didn’t know what to do about it or how to fix it.
Maybe he didn’t want to. He liked being alone. It suited him.
Rachel, who had no such problems showing her emotions, tugged a tissue from the box on the coffee table and swiped the dampness from her eyes. “You don’t understand how scared I was for you. I thought you’d never come back.”
“Don’t you waste your tears on me.” So he wasn’t a tough guy all the time. “I do what I do in the military so you can sleep safe in your bed at night.”
“I’d like you to be safe, too.”
“I am. I’ve got my M-203.”
“I take it that’s a gun?”
“One of the best. Stop worrying, got it?”
“Yeah.” She sighed, as if in resignation, and opened her mouth as if she were going to argue, then decided against it. She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes as she trailed off in the direction of the dark kitchen.
One thing he wasn’t going to let her do was wait on him. He wasn’t that hurt—or so he kept telling himself. He leaned forward to reach for the crutches, and the springs beneath him protested.
“I hear you trying to get up and don’t you dare!” Rachel scolded from the kitchen. “Stay right where you are, okay? I’ll bring supper to you. We had a slow night at the diner, so I had time to really cook up a big plate of your favorites.”
“I told you not to go to any trouble.”
“What trouble? Now, what do you want to drink? I bought chocolate milk at the store today, since I knew you were coming. A big gallon all for you.”
“All for me? That must mean you have your own stash of chocolate milk in the fridge you’re hiding from me.”
“If I don’t, then you’ll drink every last drop, just like you do every time you stay with me. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Hey, I buy more for you.”
“You do. I couldn’t ask for a better brother.” She was back, bringing her gentle cheer and a foil-covered plate with her.
Her words touched him, and he was again at a loss to return the sentiment. Not that he didn’t feel it, just that…he couldn’t say something so vulnerable.
Pretending it was the food that mattered, he took the plate from her, hot pad and all, and tore off the foil. The mouth-watering scents of country fried chicken, gravy and buttermilk biscuits made his stomach growl. That was much easier to deal with than his feelings. “This is great. I owe you supper tomorrow.”
“It’s a deal. And if you noticed, I gave you three helpings of mashed potatoes.” She set a wrapped napkin of flatware on the coffee table along with the carton of milk.
When he leaned forward to grab the napkin, her eyes rounded. His shirt—he’d forgotten all about his back, since his leg hurt worse than a first-degree burn.
Rachel went to her knees. “Oh, what did you do? Your shirt is singed and there’s this big hole. Were you on fire?”
“Yep, but it was nothing you need to worry about.” He forked in a mound of buttery potato, so creamy and rich, and kept talking with his mouth full. Man, he was hungry. “Disaster finds me.”
“As long as it doesn’t find you anymore. Do you need a salve or something? A bandage?”
She looked dismayed, and over something so minor. It was nice to know how much she cared. The dark circles beneath her eyes seemed even darker, if that were possible, and she radiated exhaustion.
The last thing she needed to do was waste any more effort on him, when she was what really mattered. Rachel and Amy and Paige were all the family he had in this world. “You look ready to drop, little sister. Go to bed, get some sleep and have good dreams. Will you do that for me?”
“I am bushed, but you’re on crutches.”
“I’m capable. I’ll be fine. Trust me.” He waited while her internal debate played across her face. Rachel was so easy to read. Always good-hearted and caring. It was a knack he wished he had, but he did his best to return what she’d already given to him. “Do I have to haul you over my shoulder and carry you down the hall?”
“Nope. I’ll go, if you’re sure you don’t need me.”
“You’re driving me crazy.” He said the words kindly, because he’d come to appreciate true goodness in the world, for it was rare. Her thoughtfulness said everything. She’d gone to all this trouble for him.
Yeah, he was pretty fond of her, too. “You didn’t happen to have any pie in the kitchen?”
“I’ll never tell. You’ll have to raid the fridge to find out.” Her eyes twinkled, eyes so like Mom’s. She looked more like Mom as time went by, and seeing that hurt.
Rachel waved as she breezed down the hallway.
“Good night, Rache.”
“Good night, big brother. Oh! Should I take your bag to your room, since I’m headed in that direction?”
“Nah, don’t
