If he'd had any doubts before now, they'd been obliterated last night. But emotions were much easier to face and acknowledge in the dark of night. Now he was about to face her across the breakfast table, and he had some explaining to do...
Which always went down better with food. His mama had taught him that.
He was in the middle of cooking up waffles, scrambled eggs and bacon from the supplies his caretaker had brought in when Sadie made her way into the kitchen. The sexy tumble of her hair made him think of all the things he'd done to her during the night. His body's elation muted the slight panic over his plan for this morning.
Her gaze followed him as he moved, but she didn't ask any questions. He could go with it and not bring up the nightmare he'd suffered for the first time in a year or more, keeping his secrets to himself. He hadn't even fully shared the experience that caused the nightmares with his family.
But he saw that as the dipwad way of handling this. He wasn't going to take the easy way out-that wasn't the kind of man he was.
"Are you trying to butter me up?" she asked, peering over his shoulder. "Because waffles are definitely the way to go."
He'd noticed her love of both waffles and pancakes whenever Gladys served them at the B and B. So he might have been working with a little insider knowledge.
"Do I need to?" he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder as he plated the food.
Sadie didn't look away or back down. Her gaze held his. "Absolutely not."
Good to know. He hadn't hurt her when he was thrashing around last night. She'd told the truth-she was fine. Now he would do the same.
He let her dig in first, lifting forkfuls of buttery, syrupy goodness to her lips before he got down to the dirty details.
"A lot happens in the years you serve your country," he started. "Some of it is good-very good. Like the men and women you serve with. They become like a second family."
He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon. Sadie had slowed her own bites, as if her initial hunger had been eased somewhat.
"Some of it is bad-very bad."
"I'm sure." Her soothing voice coated his nerves like a balm. It was the very thing that had drawn him to her five years ago, that voice.
"One particular day was beyond bad." He blinked, questioning for a moment whether he could actually do this. With a deep breath, he forced himself to continue. "I thought we were all gonna die. My platoon. My brothers." Without warning his throat tightened, closing off his voice, his breath. The memory of that day could still tear him up even now. "But a friend, my best friend, actually, saved us all by throwing himself over an IED."
Unable to handle whatever sympathy he might see in her face, he stared down at his plate. "He died instantly."
Abstractly, he noticed the tight grip his fingers now had on his fork and forced them to loosen one by one. This mere exercise in concentration helped get him back on track.
"The nightmare is always the same," he said. "I go back through the entire day, but I'm only observing it. I can't stop anything from happening. I see all of the things I missed, everything I could have done to stop it."
He clenched and unclenched his fists. "I yell at myself until I'm hoarse, but it does no good. I watch helplessly, unable to prevent his death like I should."
Her gentle voice intervened. "Why should you?"
"It's my job," he said, handing over the rote answer, the least complicated one.
"You're right," she answered. "You are responsible."
That had him looking up, misery snaking through his heart. But she reached out to cover his hand with her own. "Because you've made yourself responsible. But your friend would not want you to spend your life beating yourself up.
"Just like my sister doesn't want me to stay home-" she pulled back from him "-to stop living, just for her. Their wishes don't ease the sense of obligation or guilt, but ultimately, they want us to live, even though they can't."
Sadie dropped her fork onto her plate. He thought about her sister and how hard it must have been for her to encourage Sadie to leave her. He thought about his own mother and the many times she'd told him to go out and have fun.
Yet the only way he could do that was at an isolated cabin in the woods, because everywhere else he went there were things to do and people to take care of.
"Is that why you left the military?" Sadie asked.
Zach sat for long moments, unable to answer. The turmoil and confusion of that time complicated his thoughts. He finally said, "No. I really did want to come home to take care of my family. I hadn't planned to re-up for another tour. After the inquiry, I didn't have the heart for another go-round anyway."
He glanced over at Sadie, surprised to find her eyes had widened as she stared at him. But her expression quickly melted into a compassion he hadn't even known he was hoping for.
"Your family needs you," she said, then waved her hand through the air. "You need this. There's nothing wrong with it."
Taking the few short steps around the table, Zach knelt next to Sadie's chair and buried his face in her lap. His eyes were squeezed tight. He stayed there for a few minutes, taking comfort from her wisdom and willingness to share.
His grip tightened for a moment, unwilling to let go, and for the first time in over five years, he started to believe.
* * *
Sadie knew what she had to do the minute she got back to Black Hills, but still put it off for a few days. Every phone call from her mom increased her procrastination instead of spurring her to finish this farce. Every angry email, text and phone call from Victor increased her guilt.
The excuses were growing slim.
It hadn't helped that she'd been completely out of contact for four days. Rather than risk a call while she was with Zach, she'd simply shut her phone down, turning it on only to call her mother each night. She'd sent her pictures of the gorgeous scenery covered in snow, including some she took when they went hiking in the dense woods.
Those four days seemed like a space and time outside harsh reality. Now she had glorious memories of Zach to hold on to for years to come-years that were sure to be even lonelier and colder than the last five.
But she had to check one more thing about Zach. This was the last avenue open to her. If nothing came of it, she'd already determined that she wasn't going to lie just for the money. No matter how scared that left her.
She would call the lawyer, bypassing Victor completely, and tell him she would give an affidavit testifying to what Victor had hired her to do, all the avenues she'd explored and that Zach was squeaky-clean and eligible for his father's inheritance.
Then she'd walk away once more. At least if she disappeared she wouldn't have to see Zach's face when he realized who she really was, why she was really here.
It was the coward's way out-but her reserves of strength were leaking out with the speed of an hourglass. So she was looking into the only option left: Zach's military service.
The chance that she might have to use something so personal-his very intimate confession-against him...
Well, the thought made her sick to her stomach.
She'd done a preliminary search on her laptop, just to see if there was anything out there. Gaining access to military records wasn't an option, but if the incident was big enough, it might have been reported by local media outlets in the US, especially in the deceased's hometown.
Quite a few hits had shown up, but she didn't dare read them when Zachary could walk in at any moment. Lately he spent more time with her at the B and B than he did at home-though he never offered to take her to his place.
They spent so much time together, the landlady had casually mentioned charging her for a second person. Sadie had adopted a deadpan expression and said, "Sure"-which had left Gladys a little startled.
Now Sadie glanced around the local library, wondering exactly how to use the computer system. She figured doing this anonymously on a public computer was the safest way to go. If she signed in as a guest, no one would be able to trace it back to her.
Finding the bank of computers near the back of the building, she was grateful to see they were mostly unoccupied. She signed in at the desk, using her sister's name on the form. Then she chose the last computer on the end of the row, figuring there would be less chance of people reading over her shoulder.
Logging on, she retraced her internet search on this computer in a safe browser. Odds were, it was a useless precaution. After all, who would think to look at her browser history here? But just in case...