Snow Angels (8 page)

Tension hummed between them.

It didn’t help that Sam was in her ear, nudging, pushing, and nagging.

“Wade—”

“No. I don’t want to know. Can’t bear to know. No.” He spun away and stomped back to the cabin. Lyssa followed, with Bo at her heels, but it took her longer. By the time she got inside, he’d gone into his room and shut the door.

And when she knocked, he ignored her.

She hated to think it was over between them so soon. It had been so unbearably sweet.

But it probably was.

She should be used to this by now. She really should. Her gift almost always came between her and someone she cared about. Because they didn’t want to know.

She stoked up the fire and curled up in a blanket on the sofa waiting for him to emerge. And cried.

***

Wade stood at the foot of the sofa and stared down at Lyssa’s tear stained cheeks. Her face was angelic in repose. Her beauty lanced him. He could only allow himself a moment of this. She could awake at any time.

He’d hurt her. He knew he’d hurt her and he hated himself for it. It wasn’t her fault. None of this was. But the fact that he had made love to her and the fact that he’d found such unimaginable bliss in her body, burned like acid in his gut.

Sam had been his heart. His soul. His life. When she’d died—when he’d
let
her die—he never imagined he could ever find any pleasure with another woman. When he’d been with Lyssa, hell, he hadn’t even thought of Sam once.

It was as though, through his inattention, she’d ceased to exist. As though he’d erased her existence completely.

Guilt had been his constant companion, ever since that day in Kandahar. But it had lost its grip on him, when he’d been loving Lyssa. Now it returned to him in full force. The power of its onslaught swallowed him whole.

How could he have forgotten his vow? How could he have succumbed? And so easily?

It would be convenient to blame her. Lyssa was delicate, adorable, tantalizing. Everything about her spoke to him. And her touch…God. It was a balm to his weary soul. But he had been selfish and thoughtless. He’d taken what he wanted—what he imagined he needed—and forgotten.

It was unforgivable.

He shivered and turned away to toss another log on the fire. His body ached after their shoveling frenzy. He should have known better, but his resolve to dig out his jeep had driven him past all rational thought. Past the rising pain.

All he could think of was packing her up, this provoking bundle of temptation—and her cat—and driving them to the ranger station. All he wanted was to be alone again. And miserable. As he deserved.

“She has something to say to you.”

God. Those words, even now, made his bowels seethe. He didn’t want to think about what Sam might have to say. Couldn’t bear the confirmation of the truth that had haunted him for two years.

She was dead because he’d failed her. He’d sent her into harm’s way, and he hadn’t been there to save her.

Why Bo hadn’t grabbed her, dragged her from the inferno, he didn’t know. Would never know. Bo had been
her
dog. She’d been his handler since he was a pup. Bo should have saved her.

If Wade hadn’t kept the dog with him, on the other side of the canyon, he might have. Might have been able to save Sam.

He poked at the fire, reliving that day for the millionth time.

Every time he thought it through, he came up with the same conclusion. It was all his fault.

He’d ordered the team in.

He’d sent Sam and Kip to scout the perimeter.

He’d kept Bo with him.

He was the one Bo pulled out.

He’d lived.

They’d died.

Even now, he imagined he could hear her screams, echoing in his head.

Even now—

A hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped and whirled with a savage snarl.

“Wade.”

It took a moment for the flames to recede. It took a moment before he could focus. Before he realized he was not in the heat of battle. He was in a cabin. And it was Lyssa’s arms he clutched in a bruising grip. Slowly, he released her and let his hands fall.

“Wade. Stop.”

He scrubbed his face harshly with a palm, scrubbed until the skin was sore.

“Wade.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He should not have let her take him in her arms. Should not have let her hold him. Comfort him. Soothe him.

But he couldn’t push her away. He needed her…needed this, too much.

With a great whoosh of breath, he yanked her closer and clung.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Her voice came to him from afar.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was…shit. I was somewhere else.”

“I know.”

But she didn’t know. She couldn’t know. And he was glad for it. A soul this gentle, this fragile, should never witness the horror of war.

“I know. I know.” She stroked him as she spoke, comforting him, bringing him back to the world, to the bucolic cabin. Where it was safe. Where his friends’ bodies weren’t mangled by shrapnel. Where a woman he loved didn’t vanish in a scorching ball of flame.

They’d found nothing of Sam. Nothing but her melted dog tags and her ring.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Wade stilled. Pulled back and studied Lyssa’s expression. Slowly, realization dawned; something bubbled and spat in his gut. She wasn’t talking about just now, when she surprised him and he turned on her like a surly bear.

She was talking about then. She was talking about Sam.

“Lyssa—”

She put her finger on his lips and for some reason that silenced him. He did not know why. “Wade, we have to talk about this. Sam is getting impatient.”

He shouldn’t have laughed. It was totally inappropriate to laugh.

“What?” she asked softly.

“Sam was always impatient.” The words came out raw and ragged, choked by the ball in his throat. He swallowed heavily. “She…always wanted to plow right in. Never liked to wait.”

He could see her now. The bright light of anticipation and enthusiasm on her face as she prepared for a mission. Checking her weapons, arranging her gear, and even tying up her boots. She did it all with a brash impetuosity.

She’d approached life that way. Diving in and embracing it.

Lyssa wrinkled her nose. “She is kinda…pushy.”

Wade laughed again, a harsh bark. He did not know where it came from, other than the fact that “pushy” described Sam to a tee. Although it was something of an understatement.

Warmth curled through him at the thought. The realization that Lyssa was, indeed, talking to Sam. That somewhere in the mists of the universe, a part of his lover remained.

And she was still pushy.

Pushy to the death, and beyond.

He let Lyssa lead him to the sofa. Sat next to her and allowed her to curl up at his side. He stretched his arm around her and held her close.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” She peeped up at him through the veil of her lashes. He had the sense she was gauging him, analyzing some unseen energy swirling around him.

“No.”

Lyssa smiled. “She’s not going to give up until she has her say.” Lyssa tipped her head to the side, as though she were listening, and then added, “She says she wants to get the last word.”

Wade’s heart stopped and then set up a frantic tattoo. If he’d had any doubts this was really Sam—that she was
here
—they fled. “S-she always did want the last word.”

“Also, she was always right.” This Lyssa added with a deadpan expression, although he could tell from the glint in her eyes, she knew Sam was goading him.

He snorted. “That’s debatable.”

“No.” Lyssa grinned. “She says it’s not.”

“God, I miss her.” It swamped him then, the ache, the regret, but also the memories, happy ones of a passionate pair. Her voice, her scent, and her cocky grin. The sharp bite of her wit. All fading, but forever a part of him.

“She wants to tell you what happened that day.”

“I know what happened that day.”

“You don’t.”

“I know it’s my fault she died.”

Lyssa shook her head. The soft strands of her hair brushed his arm. He shivered. “She says you’re an idiot.”

“What?” He did not intend to squawk like a parrot.

Again Lyssa listened to a voice only she could hear. “You’re overbearing, stubborn, and you think far too much of yourself.”

“She’s saying that?”

Holy crap
. That did sound like Sam.

“And it’s not your fault, so get over it.” Lyssa narrowed her eyes. “And she really stresses that part. Get over it, Dipwad.”

Wade nearly swallowed his tongue. Sam had only called him Dipwad when she was really ticked.

“I sent her out there—”

“She was doing her job.”

“I kept Bo.”

“She’s glad you did. There…she says there’s no way Bo could have saved her. But she’s happy he saved you. She…told him to save you.”

“How…?”

“She was already dead.”

Bold. Raw. Naked words.

“She was—?”

“She died in the first blast. She says it was her fault. Not yours. So…” Lyssa dropped her voice to a whisper. “Get over it Dipwad.”

Wade had never really wanted to know, never dared contemplate what had happened on the other side of the canyon while he’d been paralyzed in pain. But now, curiosity, and more than that—a confusing swirl of conflicting emotions—burned through him. In that mélange, there may have been a hint of…hope.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me everything.”

Lyssa settled deeper in his embrace and dipped her chin. He was glad. He didn’t want to see her face. Didn’t want her seeing his. He tucked her closer and laid his cheek on top of her head, her soft hair. She drew in a deep breath and began.

“They were scouting the rim of the canyon, she and Kip. She saw something. A flicker of movement…of color in the rocks. They headed for it—”

“She should have signaled me.”

“She should have. But she didn’t want to wait.” Lyssa tried to look up at him. With gentle pressure, he did not allow it. “Then they saw it.”

“S-saw what?”

“A baby.” Lyssa shivered. He tightened his grip. “They thought it was a baby. When they got close they saw it was a doll. And—”

When she didn’t continue, he urged her on. “And?”

“And she stepped on something. Heard a click.”

“Shit.”

“She knew then it was all over. But she didn’t realize…it wasn’t just one bomb. It was a series of them, ringing the canyon.” Lyssa looked up then. When their eyes met it was like an electric charge. “They were lying in wait. If she hadn’t triggered the blast, one of the rebels would have.” Lyssa swallowed. Her elegant throat worked. “But she did trigger it. And she’s sorry for your pain.”

“My pain?” Heat scored him. The little hairs on his neck prickled. Something nasty slithered through his gut. “My pain is nothing compared to….”

“She wanted to say she was sorry.” Lyssa nibbled her lower lip. “Because she never did.”

It was true. Sam would rather eat a live grenade than apologize.

Lyssa cupped his cheek. Held him still and forced him to look at her. “And she wanted to say she’s proud of you.”

“Proud of me? For what?”

“For not giving up.” A sweet, slow smile. “For fighting. Against insurmountable odds. For saving Bo when they wanted to kill him. For walking again.” Her lashes flickered. Lips worked. “Also….”

“Yes?”

“She loves you.”

The breath whooshed out of him.

Another thing Sam would never say when she was alive. But he didn’t doubt, for a second, that she had.

It was a tender moment, replete with redemption, relief, and hope. Because whether or not he’d had a hand in Sam’s death, she didn’t blame him for it. A peace, unlike anything he’d ever known cascaded through him. “Thank you, Lyssa.”

He kissed her. A soft buss of gratitude.

She wrinkled her nose.

Not the response he’d expected to a loverly kiss. But he’d come to realize with Lyssa, there was always something else going on. Usually something he was clueless about.

Sure enough, she shook her head and muttered, “I’m not saying that.”

Wade blinked. “Is Sam still talking?”

Lyssa made a face. “Does she ever stop?”

He chuckled. “When she sleeps.”

“Yeah. Well….”

“What did she say?”

The flush rising on her cheeks was charming. “I don’t want to say.”

“Come on Lyss.”

“I can’t.”

“You told me everything else.” He gently nudged her knee.

“This is embarrassing.”

He held back a snort, but just barely. “To you, or to me?”

“To both of us.”

Oh, now he
had
to know. “Spill it.” He invested the words with a dark commanding growl. He was really good at commanding growls.

She flinched then relented, but she tipped her face away. “She thinks you should start dating again.”

“How is that embarrassing?”

Lyssa peeped up at him and said, in a small voice, “She thinks you should start dating me.”

He threw back his head and crowed. Her mortified expression was hysterical for one thing and, after all, it wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the prospect.

Of all the women he’d ever met, she made him feel at home in his skin. Which was a gift.

But Lyssa wasn’t done with her pronouncements. “And….” she said.

“And?” He rubbed her shoulder in encouragement when it looked like she would rather chew on her lip than continue.

“And Jax agrees.”

Lyssa knew Wade needed time to process his emotions after their tête-à-tête. Her clients often did after a reading. And she needed time as well, to recuperate. Though the voices often flowed around her willy nilly, when she was focusing, trying to get the message exactly right, it could be exhausting. Especially when her own emotions were involved.

Which she had to admit, they were.

It had hurt, physically hurt, to tell Wade that Sam loved him. He deserved to know. He needed to know, so she’d done it. But it had cost her.