Round shocked eyes…guttural, gasping breathing…the slow, slumping slide of his body…
She flinched and curled in on herself, trying to warm her chilled flesh.
He’d died quickly, but not easily. The sound of his raw, wheezing breaths still echoed in her mind.
It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to kill him. You were lucky the gun wasn’t pointing at you. That could be you wrapped in plastic, on your way to the morgue.
The reminder didn’t help. The guilt had been building by the minute, drowning her pragmatism and common sense beneath sorrow and shock. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she’d simply defended herself, she couldn’t shake the guilt.
She’d killed someone. Taken a man’s life. Stolen him from his family and friends. She’d watched the life vanish from his eyes. It was hard to rationalize that choice when the memory of his shocked eyes and labored breathing kept filling her mind.
As a Navy SEAL, Brett had killed people. He never mentioned it, but she knew. Death came with his job. She knew him well enough to understand he didn’t celebrate the taking of a life, so how did he deal with the aftermath? How did he turn the memories off and sleep at night?
Two years ago, she would have asked him. But now? Now her choices had removed the possibility of such an intimate conversation.
I’m not here to get you back.
Her breathing hitched again, and hot, raw pressure swelled in her throat. Brett’s behavior since he’d kicked in the door was a clear indication he hadn’t lied about that. He was over her. He had no interest in picking up where they’d left off.
His actions illustrated how inconsequential she was to him now. After cutting her zip ties, he’d handed her off to Lucas and kept his distance. It had been Lucas who’d helped her put on her shoes, who’d kept his body between her and the kidnaper’s limp form, who’d escorted her outside by the light of his flashlight and kept her company until the first police cruiser arrived. It had been Lucas who’d checked her wrists and ankles and loomed protectively by her side during the initial questioning by the cops.
Lucas had been the one to take care of her. Not Brett.
Brett had turned away.
The heavy pressure of tears throbbed behind her eyes. She hadn’t believed it, not really, hadn’t believed she meant nothing to him now. At least until he’d come to her rescue and proved his disinterest over and over.
Brett was protective of those he loved. She knew this all too well. His protectiveness of her back when they’d been together had been a reassurance and an aggravation. It had been wonderful to have someone to rely on, someone watching out for her, someone protecting her, someone who’d be there the instant she needed him…at least when he wasn’t on deployment.
But it had been an annoyance sometimes as well. Like his insistence she cut back her favorite tree—the symbol of her childhood—because it might crash down someday and crush her. Might, mind you, not would. Ironically, he’d been right. Part of it had come down during that last big windstorm, which had necessitated cutting it way back.
Her mouth twisted, and the grief rose in a hot rush. What she wouldn’t give for that overprotectiveness now. For his calm, welcome warmth. For his quiet, steadying presence. It wasn’t that she hadn’t appreciated him. She’d always appreciated him.
But she’d obviously put too much faith in the strength of their feelings for each other. She’d believed nothing could kill their love—not even Mitch. She’d believed that nothing could separate them forever.
What an idealistic fool she’d been.
Love couldn’t survive neglect or betrayal.
She would like to believe that his unexpected rescue meant he still felt something for her. But she knew him too well to deceive herself like that. Brett was incapable of turning his back on someone in trouble. It was his nature to protect. And that meant anyone, regardless of personal feelings.
With a deep, gasping exhale, she scrubbed her palms down her wet cheeks, wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling. Another deep breath and she squared her shoulders. Time to accept that she was on her own.
Might as well get used to it.
She’d deal with the cops and the questions, and then she’d find Sean. After she brought him home, they’d face what he’d done together. She just needed to survive a little bit longer in Brett’s company. Once he was gone,