She set down her empty cup. “You don’t remember anything?”
“Not a thing. Not then or now. So there I am, back home, having trouble sleeping, but not sure why. Then I had the first nightmare. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it. Just leftover shit from a shit war. But it came again the next night and the next. Always the same, always waking up at the exact moment someone comes up behind me.” He stood the guitar next to the wall behind him.
“When you told us about the nightmare when we were at K2, I thought then that it was real, that it really happened.”
He’d fought against it being real for so long now, but he could no longer. “Yeah, I think it is. Tom, he’s my head doc, thinks that it isn’t just the concussion that keeps me from remembering, but that I saw something I don’t know how to deal with. Something bad.”
“Cody,” she whispered, getting up and crawling onto his lap, blanket and all. “You don’t even know what happened, but I’m guessing you think you’re somehow to blame.”
“That would be a good reason for not remembering, wouldn’t it?” Because deep in his bones, that was his greatest fear, that he’d done something to cause an innocent girl to be hurt or worse.
“Bad things happen to the best of us or to someone we care about, and sometimes we might unintentionally do something to bring that about. That doesn’t mean we’re bad people or don’t deserve happiness.”
He’d have to work on that one, but there was something in her voice that caught his attention. “What was your bad?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Surprised by Cody’s question, Riley shook her head. She never talked about that. Ever. “It’s getting late. We should go in.”
“So I bare my soul to you, but you don’t trust me with your secrets?”
When he picked her up and put her on her feet, she knew she’d hurt him. “It has nothing to do with trust.”
He stared at her, his eyes no longer holding warmth. “No? What then?”
Pulling the blanket tight around her, she walked to the railing. It was a clear, cold night, and billions of stars glittered against the black velvet of the sky. She and Reed had made wishes on those stars, had dreamed of making a life together. Their dreams had been made of dust, though.
Now a man she thought she could love—something she hadn’t been sure would happen again—wanted to know her secrets. She had tried to bury them somewhere deep enough that they couldn’t be found again, even with a bulldozer. To dredge up Reed and her role in his death would be like scraping a razorblade over her heart. It would be agonizing.
If she didn’t, though, Cody would be lost to her. That she knew for a fact. He was a man who had trusted her with his hurts, and one who, if he ever fell in love with her, would settle for nothing less than all of her. Since Reed was a part of her, that meant telling Cody about her shameful past. God, she didn’t want to.
A pair of strong arms circled her waist, and she leaned her head back on his muscle hard chest. “So, you want to know my secrets?”
He let out a long sigh, his breath ruffling her hair. “I want to know everything about you, Riley. Why is that, do you think?”
She turned, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. “Because you like me?”
His chuckle vibrated against her face. “Like is a mild word, darlin’, and not at all what I think I’m feeling for you.”
“Do you call all the women you’ve been with darlin’?”
“No. I’ve called them by their name. You’re my first darlin’.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s the truth. It popped into my head when my sexy, nameless neighbor gave me the finger.”
No wonder she was falling for this man. “In that case, go sit and I’ll tell you about a time in my life that I swore I’d never talk about again.”
When he dropped his hands, she felt a moment of panic. “No, don’t go away. Just hold me.” His arms came back around her, and she turned, putting her back against him. “I think I can tell you better this way.” She couldn’t look at him while telling her story, but having him behind her, strong and steady, made it possible to talk about things from a past that she’d done her best to forget.
“You know I was in foster care. My parents were killed in an accident when I was three, and I was sent to live with my grandmother. She never got over the death of her son, my father. Having me in her house was a reminder of him, and she hated me for that.”
“Oh, baby.”