Taking Heart (8 page)

“A
RE YOU SURE
you want to do this?” Julia cast a sideways glance at him from the other side of the truck. “You realize this is going to be new to him, right? Working with you in this environment?”

“It will be fine. We're going to get groceries. If it gets to be too much for either of us, we'll just come back and wait in the truck.”

He didn't want her to see how nervous he was about being in a crowded store. Unfortunately, he wasn't hiding it from her well enough. Just because he and Roscoe were doing fine at Julia's, where there weren't distractions, didn't mean things would go well here. He knew she was worried about something triggering an episode, but he hadn't had one since he'd arrived. In fact, he hadn't felt this good, this productive, since before he'd been shot. Even in Afghanistan, he'd always been on high alert, waiting for an attack at any moment. Here, he'd been able to shut off the hypervigilance enough to get a full night's sleep for a second night in a row. He'd even forgotten to take his sleeping pills last night.

“I'll make you a deal,” he offered, wanting to see the worry disappear from her eyes. “If all goes well here, I'll take you out to dinner tomorrow.”

She pulled into the parking lot of the local Sak 'N Save and turned off her truck. Roscoe sat up between them, and she gave Dylan a half smile. “Are you asking me out on a real date?”

He opened the door and clipped Roscoe's leash on his collar. “You better believe it.”

Dylan didn't miss the way her cheeks flushed with color. It was worth it to ignore the twist of guilt in his gut. He shouldn't be flirting with her, shouldn't even be attempting to pursue this. He wasn't being honest with her, not completely. And until he was, it wasn't right. But if that were the case, why didn't it feel more wrong?

She tucked her keys into her pocket and slid her purse over her arm. “You ready?”

Dylan clicked the last snap on Roscoe's vest proclaiming him as a service dog in training. “You sure the store manager won't have a problem with this?”

“I've known Rick for years and bring all of my dogs in here for training. He won't mind at all. You just need to decide what you want to eat for the next week.”

Together, the three of them walked into the grocery store, and Julia grabbed a cart from the rack. Roscoe didn't even flinch at the metallic clang, instead staring up at Dylan, taking his direction.

“Be sure to talk to him,” she reminded Dylan.

They made their way to the produce, and Dylan watched as she moved through each aisle. It was the first time he'd been in a store to do more than walk in and right back out. He could feel the tension in his shoulders, tightening his spine, but he fought it, wanting to prove to Julia, and himself, that he could be normal again. He and Roscoe followed a few steps behind her as she plucked celery from the shelf and dropped it into the cart. She eyed him and he could see the worry creasing the space between her eyes. He forced a lopsided grin to his lips, but it felt more like a grimace of pain.

“Are you sticking with the rabbit-food theme this week? Or just trying to starve me?”

She gave him a quiet laugh, but he could tell she was reading far more of his tenuous emotional state than he wanted her to see. “We'll get to the rest of it in good time.”

After selecting bell peppers, two onions, and several prepackaged bags of salad, she moved to the dairy aisle, grabbing eggs, butter, and cheese. “Omelets for breakfast tomorrow?”

He nodded, barely listening as he scanned the aisles, noting two people at the end and one mother with her child turning into the space behind them. Roscoe whimpered and looked up at him with his golden brown eyes. Dylan looked to Julia for instruction, but she stared at him, not the dog.

“Is Roscoe okay?”

“Are you?” she countered and he realized Roscoe was simply conveying his own reaction to the situation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I am in a grocery store. There is no threat here.

He'd been using the tactic whenever he left the house, trying to convince his body to accept what his brain was telling him. “I'm good,” he assured her, knowing he was lying but unwilling to admit it.

They turned down the next aisle, and he instantly realized it was a mistake. Two women, both with young children in the carts, stood at the end of the aisle, trying to select cereal for their kids. Both sides of the aisle were stacked several shelves high with boxes. Boxes he couldn't see past. One of the kids began to wail, refusing his mother's choice of cereal. It turned into a keening cry and a high-pitched scream. Dylan froze.

In an instant, he was transported back in time. He could feel the heat of the desert wind on his skin as the sand blasted his face. He no longer saw cereal but caves cut out of the mountains as he hid within them. The cries of the child were no longer those of a two-year-old having a temper tantrum but those of the women and children they'd been sent in to evacuate when insurgents attacked an unprotected village. He could hear the bullets as they whizzed by his head and off the rocks. The dull thud as they ricocheted and met flesh.

His hand felt wet, as it had when blood had trickled into it from a bullet that grazed his elbow. A sharp pain sliced down his thigh, and he reached for his leg, wondering if he'd been shot. And then he felt the scratch again. Looking down, he saw Roscoe. But that didn't make sense, because he didn't have Roscoe in the desert.

His brain, unable to rectify the presence of the dog in his flashback, snapped back to reality. He stood in the middle of the cereal aisle, bent over, grasping his thigh as Roscoe nosed his face, flipping Dylan in the chin, adamantly licking at him. His hands were shaking and his breathing was ragged. Every muscle in his body was weak, and he wanted to slide to the floor. His flashbacks always left him feeling as if he'd just finished a marathon. The doctor explained that his body released exorbitant amounts of adrenaline during them, in response to the threat it perceived. All he knew was the two women were hurrying out of the aisle.

Dylan tried to stand, reaching for the cart to steady himself. He was left to face Julia and her disappointment in him.

“Is it finished?” Her voice was quietly reassuring, and relief flooded through him. She covered his hand with her own tentatively, as if afraid to touch him.

“Yes.” His voice was a raspy whisper and his throat hurt. “Roscoe . . . ”

He wasn't sure how to explain what had happened. How he'd followed the dog back to reality. One hand gripped the front of the cart while the other clutched the leash as if it were a lifeline. It took every bit of strength he had to keep from falling to his knees. He looked up to see one of the store clerks at the end of the aisle, looking to Julia for reassurance. She waved the clerk off as his stomach did a somersault and he was barely able to keep himself from heaving his breakfast.

She put her hand against his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. God, he'd never been so grateful to see a pair of sweet, brown eyes. “Let's get you out of here and back to the truck.”

Julia ducked under his arm and left the groceries in the aisle, walking him out the electric doors and straight to the truck in the parking lot. She opened the passenger door, pushing him toward the seat as Roscoe sat at his feet, staring up at him anxiously. He could feel the sweat, clammy on his skin as it cooled.

“Better?”

Dylan shook his head and buried his forehead in his hands. “I don't know what . . . I thought I was doing better.”

She ducked her head so he was forced to look at her. “You
are
doing better, Dylan. How many episodes do you usually have?”

He didn't want to admit the severity of his dysfunction to her. Wasn't it enough that it kept him from feeling like a man? Did he have to confess it to her as well? “At least one or two a day,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“And how long do they usually last?”

He clenched his jaw, trying to hold his temper. “I don't know. Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Dylan, this was the first flashback you've had in at least two days, right? And it lasted less than five minutes. Roscoe recognized it as soon as you were gone and brought you right back out of it.” She sounded excited, but the only emotion he could muster was frustration.

“I can't even get through a grocery store, Julia.” Dylan couldn't hide the bitterness from his voice. He didn't want to take it out on her, but she sounded so damn pleased.

She stood and squared her shoulders, crossing her arms as if preparing to do verbal battle with him. “Don't you dare minimize this. That was a huge step in the right direction. Roscoe picked up on your trigger and brought you right back to the present. That may not have been a fun training exercise for you, but it was a necessary one for him. He's already connecting to you in a way I can't teach him. And you've connected to him. It's all part of the process, Dylan. Roscoe won't make the past disappear, but he will make the future promising again.”

He looked down at the dog. Roscoe jumped up with his paws in Dylan's lap and laid his head over his thigh. He slid a hand to Roscoe's head.

“Don't be so damn stubborn about pouting over what went wrong that you forget to praise him for what he did right.”

J
ULIA WAS BEGINNING
to worry that the store had been a huge mistake. Dylan had remained silent since his episode in the store and when she'd come back out with the groceries. He'd unloaded the cart but had yet to speak a word. The entire ride home was in silence, and she let him brood. It frustrated her that he couldn't recognize the progress both he and Roscoe made today. Dylan having a flashback had been her worst fear realized, but Roscoe had performed his duties better than she could have ever hoped he would.

When they arrived at the house, Dylan disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him. She would have worried more if he hadn't taken Roscoe inside with him. As long as the dog was with him, she could allow him the space to process what had happened on his own, knowing Roscoe would alert her to trouble and protect Dylan from himself if the need arose. Dylan didn't need her judgment. He needed her trust.

Julia unloaded the groceries and cleaned up the kitchen before deciding he'd had enough time. She headed down the hall and knocked softly on his door. “Dylan, I'm heating up the stew. Did you want to see if Gage is coming for dinner tonight?”

She heard rustling from within the room just before he opened the door and leaned against the frame. He didn't come out, nor did he welcome her in, and his cold treatment stung. “I already called him. He said he's just going to stay and work again.”

She arched a brow, wondering at Gage's obvious ploy to force them to spend time alone. She didn't want to push Dylan, but she didn't want to chance him regressing either. They certainly didn't know one another well enough for her to barge in and demand he talk to her, especially when he was already shutting her out. Literally. Julia wasn't sure how to help.

“Um, okay.” She paused, hoping he'd say something. When he didn't, she tried to hide her disappointment. “If you need me, I'm going to go work the other dogs for a little while and feed them before dinner is ready.”

“Okay.” With that, he turned away and shut the door again with a soft click.

Julia brushed her bangs from her face and blinked back the burning in her eyes, willing herself not to cry just because Dylan wanted to be a stubborn ass.

She scolded herself. It had been a hard road for her when she'd first come home from the hospital, too. She needed to remember that and give him time and space without expecting miracles. What she really needed to do was to lose herself in her dogs for a few hours.

T
WO HOURS AND
several hundred commands later, Julia decided she had cuddled with each of the dogs and stalled going back into the house to face Dylan long enough. After feeding them, she decided that it was best to be completely honest with him. Maybe if he knew the truth about what she'd endured with Evan, he'd realize they shared a common ground and he'd be more likely to open up.

After a quick shower, she wound a towel around her head and slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. It was cool outside tonight, but the moon was high and full, and there was no reason not to enjoy dinner on her back patio. She quickly ran a comb through her wet hair and went into the kitchen, casting a glance at Dylan's room, disappointed to see the door still shut. She debated walking past without saying anything in case he wanted his privacy, but she also remembered how important it had been to her to feel connected to her siblings when she arrived home, to know she wasn't forgotten.

She tapped the door lightly with her knuckles.

“Yeah?”

As much as it hurt to have him avoid her, she felt a measure of relief when she heard his voice. “Dinner is ready whenever you are.”

She wanted to invite him to join her on the patio, especially considering this would have been their date, but her pride wouldn't allow it. She laid her forehead against the door, waiting for him to answer a moment longer.

“Thanks,” he called. “I'll be out in a few minutes.”

Her heart sank as she headed into the kitchen and dished up her food, setting out a bowl for Dylan in case he actually surfaced. Tango followed her, sitting to watch the doorway behind her. She had no more ladled the stew into her own bowl when she felt his arms circle her waist and his lips at her neck. Electric desire warmed her core, melting her to her spot at the sink. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Why hadn't Tango alerted her to Dylan's presence?

“I'm sorry,” he whispered against her skin, sending shivers of heat to pool between her thighs. “I just needed some time to think, to reevaluate what it was that I want.” His big hands at her waist turned her to face him.

Julia couldn't meet his eyes. She was afraid of the rejection she might see there, in spite of his touch. She stared at the hollow at the base of his throat. “Julia,” he whispered, tipping her chin up with a finger. “I don't want to shut you out. Especially when you've already done so much for me.”

She felt her eyes mist over as she tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. “Dylan, I don't expect—”

He didn't let her finish as he dipped his head, taking her mouth hostage. It was a slow assault on her senses as his lips caressed hers and he sucked at her lower lip. His tongue snuck out, tasting her, teasing her, taunting her to follow. He was tender, apologetic, and so incredibly sensual that she melted against his chest, holding herself up with her hands on his shoulders. She was surrounded by the heated scent of soap and male. Dylan's arms circled her waist and wrapped around her back, lifting her into him so she felt him fully against the front of her. Every part of him was rock hard, like an impenetrable granite wall. Her entire body went liquid, need lapping at her and heating her until she thought she would explode from within.

She whimpered quietly, wanting more of him but unable to ask for it when she couldn't even form a coherent thought. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to breathe him in, but the only sound that came from her lips was a squeak. Dylan loosened his hold on her, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders in protest, wishing he could read her mind. He slid his hand over her arm, his fingers moving into her hair, and gave her a faint, lopsided grin.

“That wasn't the way my apology was supposed to go but . . . ” She could hear that he was still trying to catch his breath as well. “Julia, say something.” He brushed his thumb over the pulse at the side of her throat.

Words, breathing—hell—any sort of brain function was beyond her as she tried to settle both feet back on the ground after his earth-shattering kiss. She could only stare up at him and wonder how to make him understand how much she wanted him.

He growled deep in his throat and closed his eyes slowly as they darkened with desire. “Julia, if you keep looking at me that way . . . ”

He let the insinuation hang heavily in the air, and she felt it settle on her with an anticipatory hunger. “Who Let the Dogs Out” rang out through the kitchen, ruining the moment as thoroughly as if cold water had been thrown in her face. She slid the phone out of her pocket, feeling as if she was coming out of a trance, and saw her brother's picture on the screen. She glanced at Dylan, shrugging apologetically as she pushed the button on the phone.

“Julia, I'm starving. Jessie and Nathan are going out for a date tonight, and I'm just leaving the clinic. Please tell me you have food and I can stop by.” She could hear the plaintive complaint in his tone. As much as he thought he watched out for them, Julia and Jessie had both spoiled their bachelor brother.

“Yes, I have some stew already heated up, you big baby. Come on over.” She disconnected the call and glanced at Dylan. “Looks like we're going to have company after all. I should probably warn you about my brother.”

Dylan's eyes were hot and intense, but he almost looked relieved as he turned toward the sink and dished himself a bowl of stew. “I can handle a brother far better than I can being alone with you right now.”

“You only say that because you haven't met Justin yet.”

D
YLAN WONDERED IF
he'd been too quick to assume he was ready to deal with Julia's brother. As soon as the man walked into the room, Dylan felt his judgment. He wasn't accustomed to meeting people his own size, let alone someone who probably outweighed him by thirty pounds. Justin Hart was a monster of a man whose eyes followed every move Dylan made around Julia. It was obvious that Justin adored his youngest sister, and he didn't bother to hide the fact. Nor did she, despite her many complaints about his overbearing nature.

Dylan was careful to keep his distance from her, knowing that as soon as he touched Julia, her brother would launch a full-scale attack that would make his special ops unit look like kids playing capture the flag.

Julia was uncomfortable. Her eyes shifted from one man to the other, but it was Tango who gave her away. Unable to settle at her feet, he stared up at his mistress, his eyes concerned as he laid his head on her lap.

“I'm going to get a glass of wine. Does anyone else want anything?”

“I'll take a beer if you have one,” Justin answered, raising a brow at Dylan. “You?”

Dylan met his gaze and held it, weighing the ramifications of either choice. “Sure. Let me help you.” He rose and followed Julia through the door into the kitchen with both dogs padding behind them.

Julia took a deep breath and released it slowly as soon as she was away from her brother. Dylan understood her discomfort, but he didn't blame her brother for being protective. She reached for a bottle of red wine in the pantry before digging in a drawer and retrieving a corkscrew.

“Beer is in the refrigerator.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, Dylan. I don't know why he's acting so antagonistic.”

Dylan reached for two bottles of beer from the refrigerator. “You're his baby sister and he doesn't know me. I get it. I'd probably act the same way under the circumstances.”

“But it's so annoying.” She frowned and dug the corkscrew into the top of the bottle as he twisted the caps from the beers he held.

He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “A little, but he doesn't scare me.”

Dylan didn't want Julia to feel awkward. They already had enough strikes against them with his issues without adding an overprotective brother to the mix, so he decided to head back out and have a chat with Justin. If nothing else, he'd let him know he was making Julia uncomfortable. Dylan held the bottle out to Justin as he walked past him and sat in the only chair that faced him, letting his own beer hang from his fingers between his knees.

“You don't like me, I get that. I can even respect that, but could you at least show your sister some gratitude for her hospitality and stop making her feel like her every move is being scrutinized?”

Justin took a long draw from the bottle and met Dylan's gaze, his brows climbing high on his forehead. “Not a man to mince words, huh?”

“I just wanted to get that off my chest before your sister came back out.”

Justin nodded but didn't appear any friendlier. “Then let me get something off my chest. I don't like you staying here. I didn't like it when I heard there were two of you staying, and I really don't like it now that you're with her here alone.” Justin's blue eyes gleamed with ferocity. “If anything happens to her, if you hurt her in any way, I
will
kill you.”

Dylan didn't take his threat lightly, but he wasn't scared by it either. “I wouldn't blame you.”

B
Y THE TIME
she had composed herself and poured a glass of wine, Julia was ready to go back outside and give her brother a piece of her mind. He had no right in being such a jerk, in her house, to her
client
, when she was the one feeding his pathetic butt. The rumble of male laughter floated into the kitchen, and she leaned closer to the door to hear what was going on out there. Tango cocked his head as if he was trying to listen, too.

“She only
seems
sweet and innocent. I'm warning you, Dylan, don't piss her off. She's like a rabid possum that's been cornered when she doesn't get her way.”

“No way.” She heard the doubt in Dylan's voice. “Julia?”

“She's mellowed out since . . . well, since she got Tango.” Justin paused for a moment as if losing his train of thought. “But, when she was little, man, she and Jessie made my life hell. There was this one time—”

“Okay, I think that's enough bonding time for the two of you.” She pushed open the door and broke up the gossip session.

“I was just going to tell him about the time you and Jessie shaved my eyebrows for being mean to your prom dates.” Justin tried to look innocent, his blue eyes wide, but the smirk on his face belied the attempt.

“Yeah, and that story always leads back to what you did in retaliation.”

He laughed and tipped his bottle toward her. “You deserved to have those baby pictures plastered all over the lockers.”

Her mouth opened in outrage. “Those weren't baby pictures, you jerk. I was seven and going through an awkward phase.”

“Yeah, you were.” Justin tipped his bottle and polished off the beer, grinning like an idiot. Dylan couldn't help but laugh at the banter between the two of them.

Julia glared at Justin. “I think it's time for you to go.”

Justin looked at his watch. “You're right. Come shut the gate behind me?”

“Fine,” she said dramatically, and sighed. Dylan raised his brows and looked at the beer, still in Justin's hands. “Justin is on the other side of my part of the property. He and Jessie have me pretty well sandwiched between them where they can keep an eye on me.” She rolled her eyes. “I'll be right back.”

Dylan rose and shook Justin's hand. It's wasn't exactly a friendly handshake, but there was far less animosity than had been there during dinner. Julia made a mental note to ask Dylan about it later.