Taking Heart (4 page)

“Why don't we go back to the house and we can talk about it. Let's find you somewhere you can sit and relax.”

“Relax? I don't even think I know what that means anymore.”

“Come on. I'll get dinner started and we'll talk while we wait.”

J
ULIA SAT ON
the couch with her feet up on the coffee table as Tango sprawled out on the floor. Dylan sat across from her in the recliner, but his back was ramrod straight. Roscoe sat at his feet, staring up at him as if he couldn't relax until his master did.

“Would it make you feel better to inspect the house?”

He looked surprised by her offer. “Actually, it would, but I don't want to impose.”

“Go ahead. There's nothing to hide here. Take Roscoe with you.”

Dylan looked skeptical. “You're sure you're fine with me doing this?”

She shrugged. She didn't really want him snooping around her house, but she knew it would set him at ease, at least as much as anything would at this point. Dylan rose and began to move around the house, slowly checking each room before returning to the living room and slumping into the recliner again. She saw the change in him as his shoulders lost their rigid inflexibility. He leaned back into the chair, and his hands lay open on the arms.

“I'm sorry, I just—”

Julia held up a hand. “No apology necessary. I get it.”

She heard him take a deep breath and sigh loudly as he sank farther into the chair. Roscoe relaxed and lay down at his feet. It was the first time she'd seen him let his guard down, and she remembered how exhausting it was to be on high alert nonstop with no real danger except what your mind conjured. He closed his eyes, and she took the opportunity to assess him. There was his quick temper, but she knew a large part of that was likely coming from frustration. He had an air of confidence about him, like a man who knew who he was and got what he wanted, yet she could sense doubt in him.

“How many years apart are you and Gage?” She hoped family would be a safe subject, something that wouldn't stir any demons to the surface.

He turned his gaze in her direction. “I'm older by two years. He's a great guy, and I don't know what I'd do without him. Since I got back—”

She shook her head and held up a hand to stall him. “Let's talk about other things for now. What about your parents?”

A shadow covered his deep brown eyes. “Divorced. Dad was an alcoholic and Mom finally had enough. After their divorce, he pretty much ran out. Not that he was around much before anyway. He practically lived in the bar down the street.”

“Are you still close to your mom?”

Pain clouded his eyes. “She died a few years ago. Cancer.”

Julia wasn't doing too well on conversation. She might rethink the entire idea. She took a breath, wondering what subject might prove safe to discuss. She didn't want to discuss his time in the military, at least not yet, and family seemed to be a sore subject. Gage had already told her he didn't really have any hobbies since returning. She wasn't sure where to go from here.

“How'd you get started doing this, Julia?” It was the first time he'd initiated any conversation with her, and his brown eyes were intense, almost as if he could see into her soul.

“Training dogs? I don't really know. I sort of fell into it.” As if he knew she was talking about him, Tango sat up and looked at her. She patted the couch beside her and he hopped up, laying his head in her lap. “As a kid, I always seemed to be the one who found strays or took them home. I never understood people who didn't have at least three dogs.” She laughed. “My parents always joked that they'd stolen me from a wolf pack.”

He gave her a half smile, and she found it transformed his face. While brooding and serious, he seemed mysterious and dangerous. His sheer size alone was intimidating. But when he smiled, he was devastating. His sharp features softened and his eyes took on an amusement that made him sexy. Which, in her book, was just as dangerous. Her heart did a quick skip before she reminded herself that he was a client. A client in dire need of her help.

“How did dog training turn into fixing crazy people?”

“I don't fix anyone.” She tipped her chin down and gave him a disparaging scowl. “And you're not crazy.”

“Tell that to Uncle Sam,” he muttered.

She let his comment slide. “About four years ago, a dog I was training for a search and rescue team went out to find a boy who'd gotten lost. He was autistic, so he hid. The men had been looking for two days, but the dog found him within fifteen minutes. Then he wouldn't leave the boy's side.” She ran her hand over Tango's head, staring down at the dog to keep from meeting Dylan's piercing gaze. “The boy connected with him and showed improvements his parents hadn't seen in him before, socially and emotionally. The two of them have been together ever since, and now he's able to attend school.”

She looked up at him, wanting him to understand that Roscoe could help him as well. “If you give him a chance, Roscoe
will
turn this around for you.”

“You sound so sure.” Dylan shook his head and looked at the dog. “I want to believe you. I really do. But I just don't have any hope left in me.”

D
YLAN WAS SITTING
on the couch when Gage finally returned. “Where were you?”

“Took a ride into town. Why?”

Gage still looked pissed, as if the time in town hadn't cooled his temper any. Dylan couldn't blame him. He didn't deserve to be strapped down to a brother who couldn't even make it through a night without a prescription, who lost his temper over nothing and thought people walking by were trying to kill him.

“Look, Dylan, I think you need to stay here.”

“I thought we'd already established that.” Dylan noticed that Roscoe had moved into a sitting position, his eyes focused on his face. He took a deep breath and reached a hand out to the dog's head, patting him absently. “After you left, Julia and I talked a bit.”

“Good. But I think this needs to be more than that.” He shifted nervously, shaking the keys he still held in his hand. “I rented a room in town.”

Dylan's hand stilled on Roscoe's head. “What?” The thought of his brother staying a few miles up the road shouldn't have made him as anxious as it did. They'd lived apart for years, but Dylan knew he'd come to rely on his brother too much since he'd been home. His reaction proved it. “I thought this was going to be a vacation for you. What about all that ‘staring at a pretty face' crap?”

“Keep your voice down.” He looked toward the hallway. “This isn't a vacation, and you know it. You need time to learn to work with this dog without me around. I'll be here when Julia says I need to be, but other than that . . . ” Roscoe jumped onto the couch and laid his head in Dylan's lap, nudging his hand again. “You need to get back on your own two feet, and I've been keeping you from doing that.”

“So, you're turning your back on me the way Dad did?” Dylan wasn't sure why his mouth kept going. He knew it wasn't how his brother felt. Gage wouldn't abandon him, but it was as if the anger had a voice of its own. “You're going to drop me off here and just leave?”

Dylan felt the rage bubbling up again. He was so tired of being angry and resentful, which only made the guilt worse. But, so far, nothing had been able to still the anger. He couldn't control when it rose to the surface, drowning him in waves of fury until it finally receded on its own, usually leaving a mess of hurt behind. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to still the tide that threatened to overtake him. It wasn't working. He needed to get away—from his brother, this situation, this life that had become a living nightmare.

Roscoe bumped his nose against Dylan's chin, hard enough to knock his head backward a bit. “What the
hell
?”

Dylan pushed the dog from his face, but Roscoe wasn't going to be deterred. He rose to his feet, but the dog just sat up on the couch, pawing at his leg. He looked up at Gage and saw the shock on his face. “What?”

“You were gone, Dylan, the way you get when you fall into an episode. You were pissed and ready to lose it like you do. He pulled you out.” Dylan looked down at Roscoe, who simply cocked his head to one side, staring up at him with those deep brown eyes. “This is the right thing, Dylan. It's not going to be easy, but it's
right
and I think you see it.”

Gage turned and made his way down the hall for his room. Dylan followed with Roscoe right behind him. He watched from the door as his brother stuffed his clothing into his duffel and went into the bathroom to retrieve his toiletries.

“Are you even going to let Julia know you're leaving?” He knew he sounded slightly panicked, but his brother had become something of a lifeline for him over the past year. His was the first face Dylan saw after coming out of his induced coma from the gunshot wound to his head, and he was the only reliable reality in his life since.

“You can tell her in the morning. I'm staying at the Crazy 8 Motel about five miles up the highway. You both have my cell.” He shot Dylan an impish grin. “Though if I was stuck in this house with her alone, I wouldn't bother calling you.”

“Shut up.” Dylan shoved his hands into his pockets.

Gage laughed as he swung his duffel over his shoulder and headed for his car. “I'll come by tomorrow and see how you're doing. This is going to work, Dylan. I know it is.”

Dylan stood on the porch with Roscoe at his side as he watched his brother drive away. It was the first time in a year he'd been alone. The freedom was exciting. More than that, it was terrifying. But Dylan Granger had never been a man to give in to terror. He'd embraced it all his life. He looked down at the dog, who met his gaze, his tongue lolling out to the side.

“Okay, Roscoe, so what comes next? Because now we're on the front lines with only each other for backup.”

J
ULIA ROSE THE
next morning to a quiet house. Dylan's door was shut and Gage's room was empty. Not just unslept in but void of all his clothing, and it worried her. She'd seen how troubled Dylan had been after the fight with his brother. Something like this could set him back, which would make training nearly impossible.

Tango padded over the hardwood floors behind her, looking for his breakfast. She poured his food into his bowl and refilled the water dish before slipping her phone into her pocket, heading to feed the other dogs. She needed to do some basic obedience training with the new dogs before she and Dylan started working today. As she opened the door to the kitchen, her phone buzzed with a notification. She withdrew it from her pocket, assuming it was her sister chastising her about being late for breakfast, and looked at the message on the screen. Her heart dropped into her belly and a cold dread slid down her spine when she saw the text.

Watching you, my love. Is he your new boyfriend? Not for long.

Julia looked behind her, as if the text would conjure Evan. It had been so long since she'd last heard from him that she'd assumed he'd given up on tormenting her. Apparently, he'd only been biding his time. It didn't seem as if the restraining order deterred him at all. She needed to figure out her next move. Calling the police wouldn't do much good unless he actually threatened her or had been seen too close by. Since he hadn't, there was no violation of the court order. Maybe Evan was just trying to get under her skin again. If so, it had worked. Telling her brother would simply make him overreact and he'd try to put her into lockdown. She needed to warn Dylan and Gage, at least make them aware of the situation, but she worried what it might do for Dylan's frame of mind. She had to let Dylan know about her ex, but for today, as he started his training, maybe silence was the best option.

Her heart began to slow its racing as she dished up breakfast for the dogs, praying she was making the right call. Evan hadn't been like this when he'd first come to stay at the ranch. They had trained Misty not only to recognize the signs before his blood sugar dropped, but also to retrieve his medications. Evan had needed her and, she found, it felt good to be needed. She hadn't planned it, but she couldn't help falling for him. When the end of his time at her facility became imminent, he changed overnight. He started pressuring Julia to let him stay. Misty began to shy away from him, refusing to work with him and positioning herself between him and Julia more often. Julia shook her head, not wanting to think about the final day he'd been on the ranch or what had happened to Misty.

She pushed back the painful memories and took a deep breath. She'd moved beyond what happened. The past was behind her, and she would make sure Evan stayed there as well. She would never trust anyone over her dogs again.

D
YLAN ROLLED OVER
and jumped backward as his hand was met with soft fur instead of sheets. “Damn it, Roscoe. You're not supposed to be on the bed.”

The dog didn't look even slightly apologetic as he stood and licked the side of Dylan's face before jumping to the floor. Dylan swiped his hand over his face, the rasp of his beard loud in the silence.

“Ugh! That was disgusting. Don't do that again!” He must be losing his mind if he was talking to this dog as if he could understand him. But he had to wonder when Roscoe dropped his head to his paws and looked up at him sheepishly.

He pulled a T-shirt over his head and slid on the same jeans he'd tossed at the foot of the bed last night after Gage left. What should have been a sleepless night filled with nightmares had oddly enough been incredibly restful. He glanced at the dog, who noticed and wagged his tail enthusiastically. Hell, if letting the dog sleep on the bed meant a dreamless night, he'd tuck the damn animal under the covers.

He heard the sound of tires on the gravel driveway and walked to the front porch, assuming Gage was back for breakfast. He didn't see Julia, but from the barking he could hear in the kennel, she must be out with the dogs. He saw a truck moving slowly down the driveway. Seeing it wasn't Gage, he wondered if he shouldn't go find Julia and let her know she had company, but the driver waved at him through the lowered window and parked in the circular driveway.

“Hey, is Julia still feeding?”

Dylan arched a brow and crossed his arms, waiting at the top of the porch as the driver climbed out of the truck and approached, holding a hand out. “Hey, how ya doing? I'm Evan, a friend of Julia's.”

The small hairs on the back of Dylan's neck rose, something that hadn't happened since returning home. His instincts were on high alert, but he had no reason for them to be going haywire. Years of experience had taught him to listen to his intuition, but the past twelve months had showed him he couldn't trust his mind's version of reality any longer.

“You always show up before breakfast?” He leaned against one of the posts and looked down at the man in front of him. He looked like a lawyer in his slacks and polo shirt. Everything about the man looked average, from his height and wiry build to his mousy brown curls and brown eyes.

“I was just in the neighborhood and decided to surprise her. It's been a while since I talked to her.” He took a step closer, and Roscoe let a low growl slip from his throat. Evan immediately backed up a step, his eyes flicking toward Roscoe nervously. “Nice dog. Is it one of Julia's?”

“He's mine.” Dylan glanced at Roscoe, who had moved to stand at his side, the hair on the scruff of his neck rising as he continued to growl quietly. He pushed himself away from the post. “Julia is busy right now, but I can tell her you came by.”

The stranger narrowed his eyes, and Dylan recognized the madness in them. He'd seen it in his years as a medic. It was the same look he'd seen during a mission where they'd been clearing a town and had been approached by a suicide bomber. That man had the same glazed look of delirium Dylan saw in Evan's eyes. He moved down the steps quickly, taking advantage of Evan's surprise to put him into a headlock. He pressed him against the truck, patting down the front of his shirt for a weapon. A haze of dust clouded his vision as he lost himself in memories.

“Hey, are you nuts? Let go of me!” Evan struggled against him, but he was no match for Dylan's strength or skill. Roscoe began barking, trying to force his way between the two men.

Confusion settled in Dylan's gut. This man was unarmed and harmless. What was wrong with him?

Dylan pushed himself away, and Roscoe immediately backed off but remained watchful, standing in front of Dylan and watching the stranger.

“You're insane. Just tell her I'll come by another time.” Evan jumped into his truck, but Dylan saw the man's hands shaking as he started the vehicle. “You'll be hearing from my lawyer.” He gunned the truck and headed down the driveway, spewing gravel behind him as he went.

“Crap.” Dylan ran his hands over his head. What the hell was he doing? He couldn't cause this kind of trouble for Julia. He looked down at the dog. “I thought you were supposed to stop this from happening,” he accused, realizing how ridiculous it sounded for him to blame the dog.

How in the world was he going to explain to Julia what he'd just done?

J
ULIA HEADED BACK
to the house, feeling more optimistic about her decision to keep quiet about Evan today. He hadn't texted her again, so he was probably just trying to scare her a bit. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know she'd altered any part of her life for him. Tango ran ahead and leapt onto the patio, wagging his tail furiously.

She followed him to find Dylan sitting on the porch swing with Roscoe at his feet. “Good morning.” Tango nosed the other dog, ready to play.

He held a cup of coffee out to her. “Morning. I wasn't sure how you took your coffee, but I found cream in the refrigerator so I made an assumption.”

“Good guess.” She took the steaming mug and leaned against the post, watching him. “Where's Gage? All of his things were gone this morning. Is everything all right?”

“He's decided to stay in town.”

“Did I . . . I mean, I hope that I—”

Dylan shook his head. “It wasn't you. It was me. He thinks that I'll do better without him here.”

She could see the hesitation in his eyes. “But you disagree?”

“Not really. He's probably right. He usually is.” He sipped his coffee. “It just feels strange.” He seemed indecisive and, from what little she knew about him, it was out of character. He might be a man of few words, but those words were deliberate. Finally, he sighed. “Who's Evan?”

The breath was sucked from her lungs, and she felt her knees weaken. Dylan jumped from the swing, his coffee mug falling to the ground and spilling liquid on the porch as he reached out to catch her.

“Whoa, take it easy, there.” He wound one arm under hers and another around her waist, lifting her easily and setting her on the swing. “What was that?”

She ran shaky fingers at the edge of her bangs and brushed them away from her eyes. “I . . . I guess I got light-headed.”