Nate unfolded his arms then reached for her hand. “Lauren, give me a chance to explain. I—”
Rough calluses rubbed against her hand, a reminder of the different lives they had led since high school. “Nate, I’m glad you’re home safe, but our relationship ended a long time ago. Maybe we can be friends again. That’s it, though.” Her last sentence came out almost as a whisper. If he’d come back into her life years ago, maybe her response would’ve been different. Now, though, too much time had passed.
Nate’s jaw clenched, the only outward sign he felt anything. No big surprise there. Even as children he had been great at hiding his emotions. “I need some air.”
He disappeared out the front door onto the porch without his jacket. Ah, the wonderful Nathaniel Callahan avoidance. How many times had she seen that over the years? Oh well, at least it brought an end to their conversation.
Chapter 4
Lauren bolted upright in bed. Next to her, JoJo lifted her head as if to say you woke me. Then she heard it again. A gut-wrenching moan that sent a chill through her body.
Nate. In one movement she kicked off the covers and flicked on the bedside lamp. “Damn,” she said when the light didn’t turn on. Moonlight from outside provided just enough light to cross the room without banging into anything and grab the flashlight from her bureau. Another moan came from across the hall. Without hesitation, Lauren left the room. The light from the flashlight bounced off the closed bedroom door. Through it she heard Nate say something, but all she caught was the word “no.”
“Nate?” His only response was another agony-filled moan. Lauren opened the door as Nate once again said, “No,” his voice thick with grief. The bright beam from her LED flashlight washed over him. He’d stripped down to his underwear and his legs were twisted up in the bed sheets. Even though his eyes remained closed, his face was contorted in pain and his entire body gleamed with sweat. As she stood in the doorway, he moaned again, his head thrashing back and forth.
“Nate,” she called again as she moved to the side of the bed. When no response came, she put down the flashlight and reached for his shoulders. “Wake up, Nate.” She tried to give him a little shake but it was a bit like trying to move a cement slab. “Come on, Nate. Wake up.” This time she raised her voice.
His eyes popped open, darted wildly around the room, and then locked on her face. Still unfocused, he stared at her, but she got the sense that although his eyes were on her, he wasn’t really seeing her.
“Are you okay?” Now that he’d stopped moaning, she became aware of the warm slick skin under her hands and the oddly shaped scar she could feel on his left shoulder.
He blinked a few times. “Lauren?” His eyes moved around the room illuminated only by the flashlight then returned to her. Recognition finally filled his face.
“You were . . . dreaming.” The pain and grief she saw on his face made her chest ache. Before she could do something stupid like hug him, she lifted her hands and clasped them together in her lap. “Are you okay?” she asked again.
The mattress on the bed shifted underneath her as Nate pulled himself up. “Sorry I woke you.” He raked his hand across his face. “I’m fine. It was just a dream.”
Yeah, right. She may not have been an expert on the brain and how it behaved during sleep, but she knew people didn’t normally moan and break out in a sweat when they slept. “That wasn’t a dream, Nate.” She unclasped her hands and placed a palm on his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?” The stubble growing on his face scratched her fingers as she caressed his cheek.
His hand wrapped around her wrist holding her hand still. “I said I’m fine. It was just a dream I have sometimes. No big deal.”
Evidently his definition of a big deal varied greatly from hers. Her common sense said to let it go. Her soul said something else. “If you need anything, I’m here.” She’d loved him too much at one time to see him suffering now.
“I’m fine,” he said again, the hard edge from his voice gone now.
Now is a good time to go. Lauren swallowed, comprehension hitting her full on. Nate sat virtually naked just inches away. Thanks to her extra bright flashlight she saw every bare inch of him in magnificent detail. Despite the little voice telling her otherwise, Lauren let her gaze roam from his face across his shoulders and chest and down his torso. Not an extra ounce of flesh existed on him. Reversing the track her eyes had just taken, she spotted the Marine insignia tattoo—the eagle, anchor, and globe—on his upper right bicep near his shoulder. Back in high school she never would’ve guessed he’d get a tattoo, yet it looked good on him. Almost natural, if that was possible.