In the military, he’d been called everything from brilliant to bastard. Brilliant because he’d outmaneuvered, outflown, and plain outperformed any other pilot. Bastard because he didn’t give a damn about what other people thought of him—not even his COs. He stared at the wallet in his hands, remembering the look of sheer agony that had come over Jenny’s face when he’d shown her the letter from Steven.
Jared cursed again. He shouldn’t be here. He should be in the cockpit of an F-18 thousands of miles up in the sky; it was the only place he belonged. But a few months back he’d broken his cardinal rule to remain detached, and that error cost him everything. He’d believed in a just world, where the strong protected the weak. The bureaucrats in Washington had other ideas. And because of that, Jared had tendered his resignation. He refused to let some politician thousands of miles away decide who lived and who died.
He set the wallet on the counter and threw his beer bottle away. He told himself the only reason Jenny was still trying to keep the business going was out of some misguided loyalty to Steven. Jared knew Steven wouldn’t want Jenny struggling to hold on to something that was impossible for her to grasp. Soon—very soon, if Jared’s guess was correct (and it always was)—Jenny was going to fold up shop. It was obvious she’d just about reached her caving point. And when she did, Jared would be right here.
Grabbing his duffel bag, he turned and headed up the stairs, deliberately ignoring the pinch of conscience every time he remembered the look in her eyes.
SEVEN
During the last nine months, sleep had become as elusive as an unbroken heart. Most nights, Jenny lay awake in bed, trying to avoid memories that somehow were more vivid in the ebony darkness. When her memories became too painful, she escaped outside to her front porch. There, cocooned in one of her nana’s quilts and curled up in a rocker, she let the sounds of Hidden Lake wash over her, soothing her. It had always been that way, she and this lake. They had a connection, one that defied explanation. No matter how hard life got or how bumpy the road ahead seemed, there was a peace to be found rocking gently in the dark night, listening to the sounds of the water.
Except for last night.
Last night, she’d felt like a prisoner in her own home—her own bedroom. With Jared prowling around in her house, she wasn’t about to venture out of her room for fear of running into him. Once a night was enough.
Though she wasn’t even sure if he was prowling. Even though she told herself to ignore him, pretend he wasn’t downstairs, her effort proved futile. She found herself straining to hear his every movement. But no matter how hard she listened, silence was all she heard.
As the minutes ticked into an hour, then two, she found herself becoming even more angry. Damn him. Damn him for doing this to her. Damn him for barging in where he so clearly wasn’t wanted. And damn her for not being able to ignore him.
Her muscles grew tense, worrying that at any moment she would hear him right outside her bedroom door. The waiting strained her, made her body ache and her head throb. As the hours passed, she found herself wishing for rain. Wishing for the noise it would bring and obliterate the harsh quiet that permeated the house and free her from her unwanted vigil. But the dark sky remained quiet.
Not hearing him was a worse kind of hell than hearing him.
Close to dawn, she dozed, only to wake with a start. She lay there, disoriented, trying to figure out what had jarred her out of a fitful sleep. She glanced at her bedside clock. Six oh three.
You’ve got to be kidding.
She heard the noise again. Creaking on the stairs.
Grabbing her robe, she hurried out of bed. She made it to the top of the stairs in time to see Jared’s tall outline disappear out the door. He had left. She leaned against the railing, waited for the expected flood of relief, but it never came. Because she knew without a doubt he’d be back.
Where did he go?
More importantly, why did she care?
She turned away from the stairs and went back into her room. She shut her door, harder than she intended. Somehow she was going