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  Sydney’s hand had unconsciously risen to her injured face. Evan was one of Sydney’s favorite cousins. Jeannette had been right to issue the warning. He wouldn’t stand idly by if he thought anyone had physically harmed her. He’d go to Chas’ house and arrest him for assault, Tyson tagging along to make sure he got the job done right. “I’ll be gone before then.” She’d make sure of it.

  “You and I are going to have a long talk about what happened tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” Sydney had whispered, wondering how she’d find the words to explain the sheer terror and devastation on Chas’ face last night. She’d remained in her car outside his house for nearly an hour before she’d managed to convince herself to leave. Even then, she couldn’t go farther away than the restaurant. If he’d called, if he’d needed her, she had wanted to be there in an instant.

  He hadn’t called.

  The bell above the front door tinkled. Sydney blew out a long sigh of relief when Julian entered. He made a beeline for her table after a brief wave to the two old guys at the counter.

  As he sank into the booth across from her, his gaze landed on her face and his expression turned dark. “What happened?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Julian didn’t appear appeased. “I hope to God it’s not, because what I’m thinking is making me sick to my stomach.”

  Jeannette had heard the bell and came from the kitchen with a coffeepot in hand. The early morning crowd was small enough that only one of them worked the first hour. She started toward their table, but something in Julian’s face must have warned her to stay away. Instead, she walked over to refill the other customers’ cups, then returned to the kitchen.

  “He was having a nightmare. A really bad one. I tried to wake him up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Julian’s anger faded into something Sydney considered even worse—helplessness.

  “He was fighting someone in his dream. When I shook him, he struck out. He was still asleep, Julian. And so fucking scared. I’ve never heard his voice like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “He woke up and saw me on the floor. I tried to tell him it was an accident. That it was okay, but he wouldn’t listen. He was devastated.”

  Julian studied her face and though she tried to stem the tears, they fell anyway. “Looks like he wasn’t the only one.”

  “It wasn’t his fault.”

  Julian ran a weary hand over his stubbled jaw. Clearly he’d skipped his morning shave in order to get here faster. “Maybe it wasn’t, but he’s not going to see it that way. He’ll never forgive himself for this.”

  Sydney closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears. Julian wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know, but that didn’t make it hurt less. “I shouldn’t have touched him. I could see how distraught he was.”

  Julian reached across the table and clasped her hand tightly in his large calloused one. “It wasn’t your fault either.”

  Sydney smiled tremulously. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Julian released her hand and leaned back. “Chas is different. I’ve noticed subtle changes in him these past few years, but he was never home long enough for me to pick up on anything that rang alarm bells in my head. I chalked up his newfound reserved nature to stress on the job. He was deported four times in twelve years to countries most of us wouldn’t dare to step a toe in.”

  “And now?”

  “I think you were right. It’s post-traumatic stress.”

  Sydney’s tears dried, replaced by a chill that racked her body. “Yeah. That’s what I think too.”

  “We’re going to have to get him some help, Syd.”

  “I talked to my cousin, Tyson. He’s knows a psychiatrist with experience in this area. He’s offered to call and set up an appointment for Chas.”

  Julian nodded. “That’s good.”

  “Not really. Getting the name of the doctor was the easy part.”

  Julian ran a hand through his hair. “You told Chas about it?”

  “Yeah. He freaked out.”

  “Did you have this conversation before or after the hit?”

  She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “After.”

  “It wasn’t the idea of going to the doctor that freaked him out. It’s going to take him some time to come to grips with that.” Julian lifted his hand and pointed to the bruise on her cheek. “That will be hard enough for him to deal with right now.”

  While Julian’s words broke her heart, it was a relief to speak to someone who truly understood the situation, who appreciated what she was up against. “It was an accident.”

  “It’s not me you have to convince.”

  “What do I do? He was so upset last night. He asked me to leave and when I wouldn’t, he yelled for me to get out.”

  “He yelled?”

  Sydney nodded. Chas never lost his temper, never raised his voice.

  “He was afraid he’d hurt you again.”

  “That’s stupid. Chas would never hurt me intentionally. Never raise his fist to me in anger. We all know that.”

  Julian sighed. “Chas was a confident young man when he left here. I never saw an eighteen-year-old guy with a stronger sense of self, of right and wrong. The Marines were a perfect fit for him. But he’s seen things, dealt with hardships that would break a lesser man, and he’s prided himself on that strength. Hitting a woman falls in the wrong category. He’ll never see that any other way. And he’ll think going to a psychiatrist will be admitting he’s powerless, that he’s not in control. He’ll see that as a sign of weakness.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Sydney—”

  She cut him off, spoke her biggest fear aloud. “Am I making it worse for him somehow? These memories?”

  Julian raised his hand. “Hell no. You’re perfect for him, Sydney. I figure if anything, you’ve helped him ward off the demons haunting him as much as possible. I’m starting to think Chas has been dealing with this since before his return home. This isn’t a new problem. You’ve been providing a pretty nice distraction, but I’m afraid that’s not really a cure for what ails him.”

  “Like treating cancer with aspirin?”

  He nodded sadly. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean you don’t help ease his pain though. He needs you. Now more than ever.”

  The bell rang over the door to the restaurant, distracting her. Sydney winced when Tyson walked in. He was early.

  Tyson smiled when he saw her, but that expression quickly faded. He walked over to the table, his anger clearly growing with each step. He didn’t even spare a sideways glance at Julian, all his attention focused on her face. “What happened?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “What sort of accident?”

  Sydney glanced around Tyson, noticed they’d caught the interest of the two old guys at the counter. The last thing she needed was for the rumor mill to catch wind of this. “Sit down, Tyson. And lower your voice.”

  Tyson didn’t move immediately, her sharp tone catching him off-guard. Then, he pulled a chair over from a nearby table and sat at the end of the booth. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but just as furious. “Tell me.”

  For a moment, Sydney wasn’t sure how to respond. Tyson was the most mild-mannered of all her cousins. She wasn’t accustomed to his temper.

  “I went over to Chas’ last night after work. I have a key. When I got there, he was asleep. In the middle of a really bad nightmare.”

  “Shit.” The light of understanding in Tyson’s eyes encouraged her to continue.

  “I tried to wake him up.”

  “Oh Sydney—”

  “I know. It was stupid. The wrong thing to do. He lashed out in his sleep, fighting some enemy behind his closed eyes.”

  “And then he woke up and the nightmare got worse.”

  She nodded. “He was upset when he realized what he’d done. He wouldn’t listen to me, didn’t care when I said it was an acciden
t. That’s what it was, Tyson. You have to believe me.”

  “I do. But Chas isn’t going to see it that way. So the dreams are getting worse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you give him Dr. Jennings’ phone number?”

  “I tried.”

  “When? Last night?”

  Julian had already mentioned how poor her timing was. She didn’t have the strength to hear it from Tyson too. “I’ll try again.”

  “No.” It was the first time Julian had spoken since Tyson’s arrival. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Sydney wanted to argue, but wasn’t sure she should. Chas and Julian had a very special bond. Maybe what needed to be said would be better coming from his uncle. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Julian gave Sydney a sympathetic look that immediately sent her back up, and she knew without a doubt she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I think you need to give him some space, Sydney. Some time.”

  Time. It was the same thing Chas had asked for last night, but she wasn’t willing to give it. She shook her head. “No way. You can’t seriously expect me to leave him alone to deal with this?”

  Julian’s gaze drifted to her face. “Right now, you’re going to be a painful reminder. Given what you’ve said, his emotions are riding very close to the skin. He needs time to get them under control, to come to grips with what happened. Seeing you…”

  “I’ll cover it with makeup.”

  Tyson reached for her hand. “I think Julian is right, Syd. Chas is one of the good guys. He doesn’t hit women. In fact, he beats up guys who hit women. Remember Jessica Martinique senior year?”

  She nodded. Jessica had taken up with a college boy from a neighboring town. Chas had come upon Jessica and her new beau one night. The guy was manhandling her, calling her stupid, then he slapped her. Chas had lost it and shoved the guy. A scuffle ensued that ended with the guy bleeding and apologizing profusely to Jessica just so Chas would let him leave.

  “I remember.”

  “Let your uncle talk to him. And me.”

  Sydney narrowed her eyes. “Why you?”

  Tyson shrugged. “It’s a guy thing. Trust me.”

  “Does it involve a fistfight?”

  Tyson grinned. “I don’t like to rule things out.”

  Julian chuckled. “Tyson should talk to Chas.”

  Sydney noticed the meaningful look—that meant nothing to her—the men exchanged. “Tyson—”

  “If he sees you, Syd, sees that bruise, it will only send him deeper into depression. I know you don’t want to leave him alone and I’m not saying you should dump the guy and move on. Just give us a week.”

  “A whole week?”

  Julian laughed at her loud exclamation. “Oh to be young and in love.” He’d made that same observation several times in her presence. Pretty much every time she and Chas were together.

  “Fine. One week, but I’m texting him.”

  Tyson held up a finger. “One text. Tell him you’re giving him some time, but that the two of you need to talk. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s beating himself up right now and determined to keep you at arm’s length, somewhere in that thick skull of his, he’ll appreciate knowing you haven’t given up on him completely.”

  She was only slightly reassured by Tyson’s beliefs. He hadn’t seen Chas last night. Hadn’t seen the utter devastation in his eyes. But the truth remained. She didn’t have an answer, while Tyson and Julian seemed to have a plan. She’d take the week away to gather her thoughts and come up with her own scheme. Because there was no way she was giving up on what she and Chas had.

  The war he was fighting in his head was nothing compared to the one she planned to wage.

  Chapter Nine

  Chas sat on the couch in his grandmother’s living room and stared at the television. Some kid’s show was playing, but he didn’t bother to turn the channel.

  Yesterday, he’d remained in bed, not bothering to rise. Chas had skipped every meal, tossing and turning restlessly as he replayed scene after brutal scene in his mind—Sydney, Scott, Jeremy.

  Then he’d woken up this morning to find a text from Sydney, telling him she was giving him one week and then she was coming to talk.

  Talk.

  What the hell was he going to say to her? What words could he offer that would make amends for what he’d done?

  When no answer appeared, he had thrown on workout clothes, choked down a bowl of cereal and spent the better part of the morning laying waste to the heavy bag. The punishing workout had done nothing to calm the fear, the anguish that had eaten at him like a cancer since he’d woken from that nightmare to find Sydney sprawled out on the floor.

  He’d fucking hit her. Hurt her.

  A knock sounded on the door. He ignored it. There was no one he wanted to talk to.

  The person persisted, the knock turning to a bang, but Chas made no move to answer. They’d go away soon enough.

  “Open the door, Chas. I know you’re in there. You and I need to have a little talk. Man to man.”

  Tyson.

  Chas should have known one of Sydney’s cousins would arrive, seeking justice. He was surprised it was Tyson and not Evan standing on the porch, looking for retribution.

  He stood slowly and walked to the front door. Tyson had every right to be there. If anyone had hurt someone Chas loved, he’d be setting the record straight as well.

  He opened the door and braced himself. Though Evan definitely would have punched first and asked questions later, Tyson was more unpredictable. Either way, Chas prepared himself for the fist that was sure to fly sooner or later.

  Tyson stood there, arms crossed, his eyes flashing fire. “You going to invite me in?”

  Chas shrugged. “Depends. How bloody are you planning for this to get? My gran wouldn’t appreciate stains on the carpet or busted furniture.”

  For a moment, Chas thought Tyson was fighting a grin, but soon his scowl obliterated any expression other than pure anger. “Maybe you should join me on the porch then.”

  Tyson stepped aside as Chas let the screen door slam behind him.

  Tyson wasted no time getting to the point. “You want to explain that bruise on my cousin’s face?”

  Chas swallowed down the bile that Tyson’s heated question pulled up. His punch had left a mark. “I hit her.”

  He’d expected his words to wave the flag, give Tyson the green light to swing, but the man still didn’t move.

  “Why did you hit her?”

  Chas felt his own fury begin to spark. He was standing there with his hands down. He wasn’t going to put up a fight or resist what he had coming to him. Even so, he didn’t appreciate Tyson toying with him like a fucking mouse. “Does it matter? I fucking hit her.”

  “Yeah,” Tyson said. “It does matter. Tell me why you hit my cousin.”

  Chas’ jaw tightened. “We both know why you’re here. Stop stalling and do it.” Chas held his hands out by his side. “I’m not going to stop you.”

  “I’m still waiting for my answer.”

  Chas’ temper blew. “I’m not going to fucking answer you! So hit me or get off my porch!”

  Tyson threw a quick jab, a hard right that glanced off Chas’ jaw. It didn’t do as much damage as Chas knew Tyson was capable of.

  “That one wasn’t for Sydney. It was for you. For not answering. So I’m going to ask again. Why did you hit my cousin?”

  Chas ran a hand over his jaw. The blow, though unexpected, hadn’t come with much force. It probably wouldn’t even leave a bruise. Then he realized he wasn’t going to get the fight he wanted until he came clean.

  “I was having a bad dream. Sydney tried to wake me up.”

  Tyson nodded slowly. “So you were pissed off that she tried to wake you and slugged her.”

  Chas scowled. “Of course not, you jackass. I was asleep. I wasn’t hitting her.”

  “Who were you hitting?”

  Chas shut up fast, annoyed a
t how quickly Tyson had backed him into a corner and gotten him to say stuff he didn’t want to say. “No one,” he grumbled.

  “Someone from your time in the Marines?”

  Chas looked away. “I’m not talking about this.”

  “The enemy?”

  “I’m not talking about this!”

  “What was the dream about?”

  Chas threw up his hands. “None of your fucking business!”

  Tyson took a step closer to him. “You’re dating my cousin. That makes this my business. So I’ll ask one more time. Why did you hit Sydney?”

  Chas spoke through clenched teeth. “It was an accident. I thought she was someone else.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?” It wasn’t the answer Chas wanted. He hit Sydney. It was only right that Tyson kick the shit out of him. He deserved it.

  “Yeah. It’s fine. You said the same thing she did. It was an accident.” Tyson repeated his words back to him.

  “So that makes it okay?” Not in Chas’ mind. He’d hurt her. Left a mark on her face. He couldn’t erase that. Ever.

  “It does to me.”

  Chas ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s it? That’s what you came for? Where’s Evan?”

  Tyson barked out a loud laugh. “He doesn’t know about this. Why? You sorry you got the peaceful cousin?”

  “I think you’d be well within your rights to beat the shit out of me for what I did to Sydney. I know it’s what I’d do if I were you.”

  “Would you?” Tyson asked. “If a friend told you he’d come back from the war and started suffering terrible flashbacks, that he’d accidentally hurt someone he loved because of that and had obviously been kicking his own ass every second since then, would you hit him? Because that doesn’t really sound like you, Chas.”

  Chas took the two steps necessary and dropped into his gran’s rocking chair. He leaned his head back, tired beyond reason. “I really wish you’d hit me, Tyson.”

  Tyson claimed a spot on the porch swing and gave him a rueful grin. “Yeah. I know. But it wouldn’t change things, man. It wouldn’t make you feel any better.”

  “I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

 

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