Soul Scars (Dog Haven Sanctuary Romance) (3 page)

Vince shrugged.

“You see—there—that shrug, I don’t have to second-guess what
that
one means. Although it goes against all of my instincts to make the call, I’m quite certain that’s a cover for ‘it’s not working at all.’ Am I right?”

His fingers started tapping the tabletop again. “Most of my life isn’t working right now. When it’s bad, I take off to the mountains to center myself, because there is this chaos in my head.”
Like now…right now I want to run far away from here and never come back because you’re showing me stuff I can’t look at.

“Fair enough. Do you want to keep going with the story about your wife and daughter?”

Not particularly.
“Okay. Taryn and I separated at the end of my last tour. I haven’t seen Gable for six months. I don’t want to be the invisible dad, but I don’t want to damage my daughter, either, emotionally. You know?”

“Sure.”

“There’s this research done about a sort of transmission of my own stress to other family members, particularly children. I’d never intentionally harm Gable, but Taryn’s latched onto this ‘secondary stress’ thing, and she’s managed to block my access to her. Taryn was going away overnight, and her parents couldn’t sit, so I finally had an opportunity to spend a night with my daughter.”

“Big breakthrough, huh?”

“Huge. To have the chance to do normal things with her, read her a couple of books, put her to bed, knowing we’d wake up in the morning and have breakfast together was fantastic. We did some painting together. She painted all these herb pots that sit along the sill in the kitchen. She’s pretty talented in the way she paints details. I was like that as a kid, too.” He skirted around stuff, hoping that if he kept talking about Gable he could skip the bad part.

“So what went wrong?”

He should have known Lulah wouldn’t let him off easily. She had that calm but no-bullshit look about her, the same way when she dealt with a dog acting up. “It went wrong after breakfast.”

Lulah waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts.

“This next bit’s difficult, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Taryn wanted me to clear all my stuff from the shed at the back of the property. Before my last deployment I’d stored my grandfather’s woodworking tools, a restoration project I want to do, stuff like that. My old wagon from childhood was in there, and I dusted it off and gave it to Gable to tow around while I loaded the pickup. She put little things in the wagon so she could help, and we trundled back and forth. She loved it and filled it with her toys. She was so happy until she went into the shed alone and got this splinter in her foot.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well, more than ‘ouch’ as it turned out. Of course she cried and wanted her mom, but I settled her down and managed to pull half the splinter out before she really went for it, kicking and crying. Then it happened…full-blown flashback.”

Stay grounded; focus on Lulah.

“Do you want to keep going with this?”

Not one bit.
“Yeah, I do.” Telling Lulah was hard, but he didn’t want to hide stuff from her anymore. “You see, suddenly, it wasn’t Gable, but another kid. I was back there, you know, the same smell, the same sounds, and the crying kid. When I came out of the flashback—of really being there—I still couldn’t pull myself together. I knew we were safe, yet I couldn’t shake the intense fear. My priority was to protect Gable. So I found some blankets and pillows, toys and books for Gable, and some water and a bit of food. I made a camp. Waited, breathed, held it all together the best I could. I sent you that text and had no idea how to respond when you replied. I’m sorry about that, truly.”

“Wow, okay. Then what happened?”

“Adam called, and he sort of broke through at the right moment. I gave him the address, and he came right over. About twenty minutes later, Taryn and her boyfriend arrived home. Cue a total shit-fight.”

“It would have been scary stuff for everyone. How is Gable?”

“I hope she’s okay. I tried to make it into a game, sort of like camping in the house, but she knew something was wrong.” He could picture Gable clearly—wide-eyed, asking for Mom, and telling him this wasn’t how it was when they went camping. His heart hammered again, and he watched a point on the table in front of Lulah’s hands, trying to stay present as he breathed long, deep, and slow.

Something warm and heavy hit his lap, and he jerked then settled. Calliope must have read his mood, and that calming pressure of the dog’s warm, damp chin on his thigh grounded him. He placed his hand on the top of her head and, in doing that, drew another breath when he thought he couldn’t. He raised his head, and Lulah watched him, her face gentled in a way that said she was there for him but not going to step into his space.

“I’ve worked on that with her.” She indicated to Calliope.

He nodded while his ability to speak and engage slipped away. Now he was back in a state of watching and not experiencing, as if he were a CCTV camera in the corner of the room. He felt sedated, that it wouldn’t matter what occurred around him because nothing could affect him. And although he hated the feeling, he couldn’t switch it off because it started and stopped on its own timetable.

Something pawed at his lap. He could feel it, and in that instant he came back. Calliope added a paw alongside her head and Lulah was speaking.

“You’re a vet with PTSD. I don’t know how bad it is, what you experienced, the things you saw, but I presume it was freakin’ awful. I’m not going to badger you for your story, but one day, if you want to tell me, I’d be honored to hear it. Maybe we’ve gone far enough already tonight, because you zoned out there for a bit, huh? I’m always here to help you, to listen, to share a meal and a laugh, but be assured I won’t join you in some sort of self-destructive downward spiral. I have a father who provides me with enough of those trips.”

If her father drags her down, she doesn’t need someone like me around.
Vince eased himself from Calliope, pushed his chair back, and stood. “I need to go.”

“I know you do. Good night, Vince. Tomorrow I’d like help with my assignment if you can spare me time. I also want to talk to you about Calliope. Don’t forget to take her bed; it’s over there by mine.”

“Oh, Lulah, your assignment, I’m so sorry. I’ll be here to help you tomorrow.” Jesus, could he be any more selfish? Over the past few months, he’d helped Lulah with paper writing for her course work, except lately he’d let her down.

“Sure, it’s due in a week.”

He paused when he reached Lulah’s bed at the far end of the porch. The exhaustion he’d fought almost won when the pattern on the comfortable-looking old quilt beckoned to him. It reminded him of the one on his grandma’s bed when he was a kid. He would happily have lain down for an hour or two. He might even sleep. Then he imagined Lulah beneath the covers.

“You okay there?”

“Sure, I was thinking. Do you think it’s safe sleeping outside, out here? You’re pretty isolated.”

“Safer here than in town.”

Now he could picture her, curled beneath the quilt, head on the pillow, arm thrown above her head, her lips parted in a soft happy sleep. Something inside him stirred, and he shook off the feeling as he picked up the dog bed and set off for his truck.

“Vince, are you sleeping much right now?

Sleep, hell, since when did that simple act of lying down and closing his eyes become such a difficult activity? Mostly he didn’t sleep beyond a couple of hours on a good night. “Not a lot,” he answered in a thin voice.

“Take anything for it? Sleeping pills?”

“I don’t, and you’re prying.”

“Sorry about that. I’m feeling for my boundaries.” He could hear that smile in her voice now. “No self-medicating, okay? If you want to do that, you phone me, and I’ll help talk you through it.”

He raised his hand in a small wave, because allowing any more would have him back on the porch begging for her touch. In that moment, he was certain that the warmth of her fingertips would heal him and he would feel human again.

Fucking dreamer.

Calliope glued herself to his side, determined she wouldn’t be left behind this time. When he opened the door to his pickup, she scooted in and laid in the passenger footwell.

He drove home cloaked in the darkness of the unlit back roads. In the back of the pickup, he still had the old carousel horse, his tools, and his childhood wagon he wanted to fix up for Gable. The co-op where he shared space wasn’t large enough to do that sort of woodwork.

He needed to find a larger workspace, like a shed. Or Lulah’s barn.

Chapter 3

L
ULAH WATCHED VINCE drive off—hot, hurt, confused, and probably not going to sleep much. Judging by his current state, that issue appeared to be a regular feature of his nightlife. If nothing else, the guy needed to sleep.

She glanced at her bed and recalled the image of Vince standing beside it, staring. Did he have the same rush of images she’d seen when he stood there? Beating down the attraction to him would take some work.
Godzilla, help me remember, Vince is as unreliable as Dad.

Until she’d left home, her life had been controlled by another dependent man, and she wasn’t allowing that to happen to her again. She hadn’t heard from her father since she’d blown him off yesterday, and she still didn’t feel too good about having done that. She hadn’t even asked him the size of the debt. What was the point? The rates from the loan sharks he used meant the debt would be climbing like the gauge on a thermometer in the pocket of a sinner edging closer to hell. This time he would have to take the full fall, and maybe that might force him to seek help for his gambling.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Lulah arrived home from the Sanctuary to find Vince’s pickup parked in her drive. Although he dropped-off and picked-up Calliope most days, he hadn’t been volunteering at Dog Haven Sanctuary a lot lately, now that his graphic design business was flourishing. She dismounted her bike and walked over to the old barn where he waited.

“Hey, Vince.”

He greeted her with a smile. Although she’d love to see that more often, she also felt relief at its scarcity because something about that expression and his relaxed stance belted through her, setting up a hum in her chest. His jeans, well-worn, hung loose on his hips, and the old USMC t-shirt he wore had shrunk up and faded through numerous washes so that a little bit of his torso showed. In the gap, she could see the narrow trail of dark hair pointing downwards, and yup, he was one hundred percent UHT, hot. He didn’t need that tattooed anywhere, because it floated around in his aura.

“Lulah, hi, I hope you don’t mind. I was having a look at your barn. I didn’t go inside.”

“Go in, that’s no problem. I haven’t been in there for ages; I don’t use it.” He looked at the door and hesitated. “Here, I’ll come with you,” she offered, “I don’t think it’s even locked.” She tried the handle, and the door swung open.

Vince stepped up to the doorway and made a sight-sweep as if the place might be booby-trapped. He turned, caught her eye, and grinned. “Sorry, old habits and all that…” He held out an arm to usher her in.

Inside, the air was cool and dry. On the far side were a couple of horse stalls while opposite was an old workbench and a tack room with basic bathroom amenities. They climbed the stairs to a loft with two built-in bunks, a set of drawers, and a wardrobe. “This must have been living quarters for a groom. Pretty dusty, the maid hasn’t stopped by in a while.”

Vince laughed.

He stood beside the almost full-length window at the foot of the bunks. After wiping some of the dust from the pane, he looked out at the spread of the narrow valley before him. Lulah watched, noticing his steady breathing as he absorbed the view. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. When they came back down the ladder, he went over to the workbench, running his hands along the rifts and dents, brushing away more dust.

Lulah followed behind him. “That’s it. I’m firing the maid.”

“This place is great.” When he faced her, his eyes were bright with enthusiasm. “Can I ask a favor? Please say no if it’s not okay. I won’t be offended.”