waitress arrived with refills for their drinks and Marshall waited until she left to raise a brow in Denning’s direction. “So, that’s why you tanked Rochelle’s Army career.”
Again, his daughter’s enraged face flashed to the forefront of his mind. She wasn’t going to forgive him very easily or quickly. But she would. Eventually. Hopefully.
“I might not have wanted them to start with,” he said, “but I can’t lose another child, Marshall. I can’t.”
His friend eyed him, his gaze sad. “There’s more than one way to lose a child.”
Rays of sunlight filtering through Caden’s guest bedroom window woke Sarah, and she wished she’d told him to make sure they were shut after he’d taken her tray of food last night. Then it occurred to her. She’d actually slept without a nightmare interrupting her rest. Hope sprouted that she was well on the way to recovery—both mentally and physically. She grimaced. Probably more so physically than mentally. Just because she had a few hours of sleep nightmare-free didn’t mean they were gone forever.
But hopefully, her fever was. She’d had a slight relapse at the hospital—a fever spike and a couple more days in and out of awareness until Caden had finally been able to bring her home with him. She stayed in the bed for three days, except for the debrief that finally happened yesterday afternoon, short walks to the bathroom, and the occasional nap on Caden’s deck off the sunroom.
Yesterday, she noticed a big improvement in her energy level, and today, for the first time since getting her stitches out, she’d sat up without the piercing pain in her side.
It was down to a dull throb to match the one in her head. She refused to take the stronger medication tempting her with more oblivion. And the only reason she’d conceded to take that was because Caden promised her he’d be there while she slept. True to his word, every time she awakened screaming, he was there to help chase the nightmares away. Now that her mind was clearing, questions were surfacing. Questions that she’d had to put on hold while she healed.
Whatever had happened to Brianne? What had Dr. Kilgore and the other man meant by their conversation? Had they actually been talking about Brianne or someone else entirely? Who was the other man?
She still wasn’t completely sure and had, during her more lucid moments, bugged Caden to find out about Brianne. This morning she’d learned he’d come up empty.
Had she simply dreamed all of that in her fever-induced state? Dreamed that, along with the nightmares of her kidnapping and Fatima’s shooting and Dustin’s suicide?
She had a brief flash of the hysterical woman in the room next to hers. Weeping, pulling against her restraints so hard her wrists had bled.
No. Those screams echoed, reverberating in her head. The woman had been real, all right. As real as Dustin.
Before the grief could once more consume her, Sarah shoved thoughts of her brother away while taking a physical inventory of her injuries. Her shoulder was sore, but the graze had scabbed over and the itch was more annoying than painful. Her side was healing. Her emotions had a ways to go.
“You’re awake,” Caden said.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He raised a brow. “And grumpy. This is the thanks I get for taking you in? I don’t share my guest room with just anyone, you know.”
Sarah grimaced, then swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “Thanks for letting me stay here and for taking care of me.” She rubbed her eyes. “I guess I need to move home at some point.”
“In spite of your grumpiness, I’m not in a hurry for you to leave, but we could go by there and grab some clothes and whatever else you need if you want. Although, I can’t think of what that might be. I got your suitcase full of stuff you had with you overseas, so I think you’re good for a while.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. Clothes were really the last thing on her priority list. And, truthfully, so was going home. “Please tell me I’ve just been trapped in a really bad nightmare.”
“I wish I could.”
The huskiness in his voice seared her and grief slammed her all over again. “Why’d he do it, Cade? Why would he kill himself?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense to me either.”