day, anyway. They won’t be in my way. Or I can look at it myself.”
“I wouldn’t dream of you doing that.” She waved me off, looking around the cabin in a quick inspection. “Is everything else okay with your cabin?”
“Very. It’s beautiful.”
She nodded as she glanced toward the lake, not realizing my eyes were on her. “This one is my favorite.”
Havoc shifted at my side, drawing Ella’s attention.
“And what do you think about the cabin?” she asked.
Havoc tilted her head and studied Ella. First impressions were everything with her, and if she didn’t like Ella right off the bat, there was little hope of recovering.
“May I?” Ella asked, looking up at me.
I nodded stupidly, like I was a junior high boy locked in a room with a girl he crushed on. How the hell was I going to lie to her? Hide who I was? How had I gotten this far without a plan?
She rubbed Havoc behind her ears and immediately won her over.
“You don’t mind her being here? There was a miscommunication when I made the reservation.” My voice was gruff, my throat tight with everything I wanted—needed—to say to her.
She’d kept me alive.
She’d given me gravity when everything went sideways.
She’d opened the window to show me another life was possible.
I’d destroyed her world and abandoned her, and she had zero clue.
I was just a stranger to her.
“Not at all. I hear she’s a service dog?” One last rub, and Ella stood, coming up to just about my collarbone. I’d always been big, but something about how fragile she seemed made me feel huge, like I could put my body in front of the storm headed her way and protect her…even if the storm was of my own making.
“She’s a retired military working dog.”
“Oh.” A dark look crossed her face before she blinked that fake smile back into place. “Well, as soon as my son figures out you have a dog, you might have a visitor. He’s been after me to get one, but now…well, it’s just not in the cards, or in my schedule, to train a puppy.”
Colt. A jolt of anticipation raced through me at the thought of finally getting to meet him.
“They can be quite the handful,” I said, running my hand over Havoc’s neck.
“Were you…are you her handler?” Ella asked, studying my face.
God, I could look into those eyes forever. How was Maisie? What treatment was she in now? Was the tumor shrinking? Was it almost operable?
“I was and am. We served together, and now we’re out together—on terminal leave, actually. It’s not official for another eight weeks. We’re both working on the whole domestication thing, and I promise neither of us will pee on the carpet.”
The smile that flashed across her face was brief but real.
I wanted it back. Wanted to see it every day. Every minute.
“I’ll keep that in mind. So she’s trained in explosives, I’m guessing? Were you EOD?”
Here it was, the moment that would define my entire purpose here. Her smile would fade, and I’d no doubt get a well-deserved hand across my face.
“She’s trained in explosives and scenting people. She’s only aggressive on command and really loves anyone who will throw her favorite toy.”
“Explosives and people? That’s rare, right?” Her forehead puckered, like she was trying to remember something.
“For most dogs, yeah. But Havoc was a special operations dog, the best of the best.”
Ella’s features flattened, and she stepped back, bumping into the raw wood support pillar that separated the dining area. “Special ops.”
“Yes.” I nodded slowly, letting her put the pieces together.
“And you just retired? You’re really young to get out, knowing what adrenaline junkies you all are. You just…quit?” She folded her arms under her breasts, her fingers rubbing her bicep in a nervous tell.
“My best friend died.” My voice was barely a whisper, but she heard the truth of it.
Her eyes flew impossibly wide, the blue even more startling against the sudden sheen of tears I saw gather there before she blinked them away. She glanced at the floor, and within a millisecond her spine straightened and she had walls up twelve feet high.
She wasn’t just guarded. She was shut down.
“And that’s why you’re here.”
I nodded again, like I’d turned into a bobblehead since she walked in.
“Say it. I need you to say the words.”
My call sign is Chaos. I miss you and your letters so damn much. I crave your words more than oxygen. I’m so sorry about Ryan. I don’t deserve to be here. He