Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (27 page)

“That sounds good,” Beau murmured, giving his friend a grateful look. “You should have been a shrink.” He grinned a little.

Matt snorted. “Being a team leader is tough enough. And trust me, I’m on eggshells with Dara right now, too. One moment, she’s strong and solid, the next, she’s starting to emotionally go to pieces on me. She’ll burst out crying. Or she gets a nightmare and wakes both of us up. I never know when it’s going to happen and neither does she. We just try and take it a minute at a time.” He slid Beau a sympathetic glance. “And you’re going to have to do the same in your situation. Callie can’t help what her emotions are doing to her right now. She’s had her whole worldview shattered, just like Dara.”

*

When Dara returned
to Nest One, Matt and Beau had arrived and brought to-go boxes of breakfast with them. Beau left the apartment to let them have breakfast with one another and walked up to the second floor of the warehouse, where Callie was staying at Nest Two. He opened the door and found her puttering around in the kitchen, making them coffee. His gut tightened and he closed the door, locking it.

“Did you have a good talk with your sister?” he asked, coming into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. Callie’s cheeks had a little pink in them and hope sprang up in Beau. As she looked up at him, he saw her green eyes weren’t as murky. Was that hope he saw in her eyes, or was it a slight lessening of stress?

“I did. It helped a lot.” She turned on the coffeemaker. “Want coffee?”

“Sure,” he murmured, “thanks.” Beau saw her left hand tremble slightly. The apricot sweater brought out her pale skin and highlighted her red hair, now loose and free around her shoulders. She was beautiful even now. He ached to hold her, but her right arm was in a sling.

“Want me to get the cups down?” he asked, assuming she was feeling awkward about having to use her left hand.

“Yes, please.”

“How about if we have coffee in the living room?”

“That sounds nice,” she said.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring it over in short order.”

Callie nodded and walked to the couch, sitting down on one corner of it, pushing off her shoes, and tucking her legs beneath her. “Did you get to talk with Matt?”

“Yes, I did.” He placed the mugs next to the coffeemaker.

“Were you two comparing notes on us and your experiences?”

“We were talking mostly about the ambush and what happened afterward.” He did not want to divulge the details. She still seemed too fragile to cope with anything that would further upset her. “Mostly tactics and strategy,” he added. “What did you and Dara talk about?”

“We made our plans to get out of Afghanistan,” she said. “Dara has made arrangements for us. She’ll go to Alexandria to finish her residency at the hospital.”

“And you?”

“I’m going home. Dara has all the flights set up. We’ll take Kuwait Airways out of Bagram to their country and then get a U.S. airline flight to Seattle, Washington. From there, she and I will take different flights to get us home.”

He brought over the cups of coffee, carefully placing one in her left hand, and she thanked him. Beau saw her struggling with her emotions, trying to act normal when she was nowhere near it. He hurt for her and sat near Callie but left some room between them. “At least you’ll get to spend Christmas with your family.”

“I’m so looking forward to it, Beau.”

“From the stories you told me already, it sounds like it’s exactly what you need to heal up from this experience.” He saw her eyes cloud with pain, her lips thin for a moment.

“Did you know that Dara will be spending Christmas with Matt and his family in Virginia?”

Brows rising, Beau said, “Looks as if things are serious between them.”

“Very. I guess this experience made Dara realize she truly loves Matt, and vice versa.”

Beau felt tension move through him, hearing the confusion in Callie’s voice. Matt had known Dara for just a little longer than Beau had known Callie, and their relationship was moving full speed ahead. He saw Callie wrestling with that knowledge and clamped his mouth shut.

“She’s two years older than you,” he noted, sipping his coffee. “Years do make a difference between how people see the world, Callie.”

“I guess . . . it just seems too soon. I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Who am I to judge anyone? I’m feeling so screwed up inside I don’t know where I am from one minute to the next. I have nonstop anxiety, and I feel like I’m whipsawing back and forth every few minutes emotionally. It’s crazy stuff.”

“It’s the trauma, gal. In time, these sharp ups and downs will start smoothing out.”

She gave him a distressed look. “Will they, Beau?”

Her expression nearly unstrung him. He set his cup down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Unsure of where they stood with one another, Beau wasn’t going to risk rejection by moving too quickly. “Would you like to come and sit beside me? I can hold you for a while if you want.”

Callie closed her eyes, taking in a ragged breath. “That would be nice, Beau.”

He eased up and moved around her. She scooted down so that he could sit with his back against the corner of the couch. That way, she could lean into his right side while keeping her broken arm comfortable in the sling.

As she slid up to him, he bit back a groan of pleasure as she fitted against his body, turning toward him, her cheek resting on his shoulder, brow against his jaw. And just as before, her arm slid across his hard, flat belly. This time, she made allowances for her sling, and it took a few moments to get herself in a comfortable position.

Then, and only then, did Beau ease his arm around her shoulders, being careful not to put pressure on her upper right arm. “How are the bones in your arm feeling?” he asked, still tasting the silky strands of her hair.

“As long as I take the ibuprofen, the pain is dialed down to a gnawing ache.”

“You do know that pain actually slows down the healing process?” Beau knew that Callie didn’t like taking drugs. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t either.

Callie nuzzled into his shoulder, inhaling his clean scent. She could feel Beau’s skin tighten in response to her hand resting languidly across his belly. “I know, but Dr. Bartel wanted to give me a narcotic painkiller. I once took a Percocet, and it knocked me out for three hours solid. So I don’t do opium- or opioid-based drugs. I don’t want to be knocked out, Beau.”

“I understand, gal,” he said, moving his fingers lightly against her upper arm. “You comfy now?”

“Yes,” she uttered, closing her eyes. “You’re my very best medicine, Beau. I hope you know that.”

His heart swelled with hope when he heard her soft, wispy words. “I hope I’ll always be that for you, Callie.” Beau wanted to say so much more, but he felt her body begin to sag against his and knew how tired she was. He also knew pain could take a person down until they were exhausted. And she was definitely at that level.

“Just take a nap,” he urged her in a drawl. “I’ll sit here and be your big, warm teddy bear blanket.”

Callie managed a partial laugh. “Teddy bear? Beau, I saw you out there in action. If anything, you were like a lethal snow leopard.”

“You can make me whatever you want,” he said, kissing her hair and loving that small purr of pleasure in the back of her throat. Wanting to shake himself, Beau hoped that whatever they’d had before this grueling experience was still intact. But given all she’d gone through, how could it be? Unsure of their tentative relationship with one another, Beau knew he had to approach Callie slowly and with a world of patience. She was in shock. She couldn’t sort much out right now. And she sure as hell couldn’t sort out their feelings for each other presently. Patience was the key.

*

Callie awoke slowly.
She was warm and it felt good, compared to the icy cold she’d felt for nearly three days. Her brain was groggy and she felt the ache of her right arm in the cast. As she slowly stretched, she realized she was in a real bed, not a hospital bed. The clock on the nightstand read three p.m.

Surprised, Callie remained on her left side, her knees drawn up toward her body, the blanket toasty over her. Never again would she take for granted a warm, dry blanket or a downy, soft pillow beneath her head. She slowly opened her eyes, taking in the quiet apartment. The only light on was in the kitchen. Focusing, she saw Beau sitting at the table with a lot of papers spread around him, plus a computer. He was hunkered over the Toughbook laptop, a scowl on his face, eyes narrowed on the screen. She didn’t know what he was working on, and then remembered that tomorrow morning he was due at HQ to work on missions for his Delta Force brothers.

She ached to be in his arms and recalled falling asleep in them. Beau must have carried her to bed. He had a rugged-looking face, made even more masculine by that beard and shaggy hair. Absently, she wondered what he would look like without a beard, and his hair cut and trimmed in civilian fashion.

Her gaze settled on his sensual mouth, and she felt vague stirrings in her lower body. At least the attack hadn’t completely killed off her libido. Callie had been worried about that, and wondered if she’d ever let a man touch her intimately again. Would every man bring back that black-bearded Taliban soldier who had dismounted from his horse and chased her down, then grabbed her to satisfy his lust for a woman?

She’d done so much wrong.
So much.
Her heart ached with all the stupid, unthinking mistakes she’d made. At least Dara wasn’t angry at her, and for that, Callie was relieved. But what of Beau? He’d told her clearly not to move from hiding behind the trunk of that pine tree. Looking back on it now as she lay warm and comfortable, Callie realized she had been safe there. Those riders would not have seen her, so why had she bolted? Why had she panicked and run? By doing so, she’d exposed her hiding place and put Beau into jeopardy, too. Would he have been wounded if she’d just listened to him and stayed where she was? A small voice told her no. That made her feel even worse.

Right now, Callie didn’t like herself very much. Beau had to be horribly disappointed in her. He was probably angry because she’d gotten him wounded twice. And yet, her heart cried out for him, for his mouth on hers, his arms around her. If not for him, she knew now that she’d have been captured, raped, and probably kept a prisoner or sold as a sex slave. She could have been dead instead of being in his dry, warm bed.

She wanted to cry, because thanks to her anxiety, lack of trust, and panic, she’d gotten him injured. That was the last thing she’d ever want; she loved Beau—those feelings had been growing within her since their first meeting. There was no one else like this West Virginia soldier. He had morals, values, and integrity. He had never tried to take advantage of her and had always treated her with respect, as an equal. And he doted on her . . . a real first in her relationships.

Pushing her face into the pillow, Callie choked back a sob of remorse. She was a hot mess, that’s all there was to it. She couldn’t ever recall another time in her life when she’d wept so often. It just wasn’t like her. How badly she wanted Beau at her side—wanted him to hold her again and kiss her senseless. Make her forget her life-and-death mistakes.

But it was all a dream, because tomorrow morning, she and Dara would be on a flight out of Afghanistan, heading home, while Matt and Beau remained behind. At least Dara had something wonderful to look forward to—Matt would be with her for thirty days. Callie wasn’t the jealous type, but the hurt in her heart was real as she realized she’d allowed Beau to slip through her hands. She’d been a big disappointment since the ambush, clingy and needy. She’d certainly revealed that she wasn’t as brave as he’d needed her to be, and as a result, Beau had been forced to risk his own life to save hers.

Callie uneasily drifted back to sleep, tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

*