Storm (Linear Tactical #10) - Janie Crouch Page 0,8

her personal space, never did anything that made her uncomfortable. He was aware of his size and how it made her innately nervous, and he was careful never to put her in a situation where she had to flinch away.

He was so much more mindful than most people. It was nice to be able to let her guard down just a little bit knowing he was aware of the atmosphere around him. Aware of her atmosphere.

So aware, she’d even gone to Bree to see if the other woman had told him about Jared’s abuse. Not that he had to be some sort of Einstein to figure it out on his own given the fact that she lived and worked at a shelter and jumped at her own shadow most of the time. But Bree promised she hadn’t said a word.

Noah was just in tune with what was happening around him. Maybe it was a Special Forces soldier thing. And he was respectful about her need for distance.

So respectful she would’ve thought he wasn’t interested in her at all except she caught him looking at her more than once, and not with concern or pity.

He looked at her the way a man looked at a woman he was interested in. An entirely different kind of awareness.

She never thought she’d see that look in a man’s eyes. Especially not someone like Noah, who looked like he’d been ripped off the cover of Man’s Man Magazine.

She wasn’t sure if she was excited by it or wanted to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Or some crazy combination of both.

It did weird things to her stomach. Definitely did weird things to her emotions.

But most of all, in the holes inside her that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her, it gave her hope.

Taking one last inhale of the citrusy smell of the fruits, she left the produce section and headed down the bread aisle.

She didn’t think anything was going to happen between her and Noah. She had way too much baggage that needed to be unpacked in her life first. But it gave her hope that maybe, possibly, one day she’d be able to look at a man—a man like Noah—with more than half-terror.

She looked down at her list. Bread, Poptarts—a special treat since they had cotton candy flavored, which was the grossest thing Marilyn had ever heard. Wheat crackers, peanut butter. A light flickered above her and a box fell to the ground down the aisle with a loud bang—

Going somewhere?

Air lodged in her throat as Jared’s voice roared in her ears. The bread she’d grabbed fell to the floor from her numb fingers. No. No. He wasn’t here. Jared was in jail. She was safe. Jared wasn’t here. She was—

Always so predictable and stupid.

She felt a hand on her shoulder No! She slammed her hands over her ears trying to block out Jared’s thundering voice, his touch on her shoulder. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here.

You’ll always be mine.

The smell of citrus floated away, replaced by the overpowering scent of his cologne. She retched, folding her arms around her head, hoping maybe she could protect herself.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed and she whimpered, sinking to the cold floor. She had to get away. A voice from faraway said something, but she couldn’t hear it. Could only hear Jared.

So predictable. Stupid.

Her vision narrowed to pinpricks, her breath sawing in and out of her chest. She wrapped her arms around her head and rocked.

Not again.

She couldn’t survive it again.

She knew crying wouldn’t save her, but she couldn’t stop the whimpers that came out of her mouth. She curled smaller and smaller into a ball, just wanting to disappear before the pain started.

Going somewhere?

“Please,” she whispered. “No. Please.”

Jared just laughed.

The darkness continued to close in around her. Like always, there was nothing she could do to save herself.

4

Noah was familiar enough with a PTSD-induced panic attack to recognize one when he saw it.

If it had been anyone else but Marilyn huddled on the floor of the grocery aisle, he probably would’ve kept his distance and let someone else handle it. There were a lot more people in this town better equipped to handle a panic attack than he was. People good with words, good with comfort.

But he knew there was no way he was going to be able to leave her vulnerable like that. The woman already brought out his protective instincts after just a couple of conversations.

Marilyn curling herself into a