You gotta keep Hailey out of the Sandpit, Wolf-man. No mission work. Not here. Promise me you’ll stop her.
Wolf hadn’t hesitated in his response. I won’t let you down.
The memory of his own words pushed Wolf into action. “Are you Hailey O’Brien?”
She nodded. Slowly. And it finally registered that she’d been standing there speechless, just like him. Even now, she simply stared at him with her beautiful, unguarded, attentive eyes. Waiting. Watching.
“I…” Wolf cleared his throat. “I was a friend of your brother’s.”
Instant pain filled her gaze and the wall went up. Wolf hadn’t expected that.
“You knew Clay?” she asked at last, her voice deeper and throatier than he’d expected.
“I did. He asked me to—” Wolf cut off his words midsentence, realizing he couldn’t blurt out why he was here without some sort of buildup. “That is, I was with him when he died.” Which wasn’t what he’d meant to say, either.
She blinked. “You were?”
“Yes.”
She blinked again. And then…
One lone tear slid down her cheek.
Great beginning, Wolf, you made the poor woman cry.
With concentrated effort, he softened his voice. “My name is Ty. Ty Wolfson.”
“Wolf.” Her shoulders snapped back. “Yes, of course. I should have…expected this.”
“You know me?”
She nodded. “My brother mentioned you in his e-mails.”
Wolf didn’t know what to do with that information, so he redirected the conversation. “Is this a bad time?” He shifted his gaze, only just noticing the purse strapped around her shoulder and the coat slung over her arm. “You look ready to go out.”
“Oh. I… No.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I mean, I am heading out, but it can wait.”
Okay, good. He had her attention again. Now, if he could get his tongue to work properly he might be able to finish what he’d come here to do. Then he could return to his temporary housing on post and give in to his exhaustion. The forty-eight-hour journey out of Iraq was catching up with him.
“What I have to say won’t take long,” he promised. Not if he could help it. “Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry. I’m being rude, making you stand out there in the cold.” She gave him a quick, tense smile. “Please. Come in. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Wolf heard the genuine remorse in her words, saw the guilt in her eyes and felt bad for upsetting her. “No worries. I didn’t give you any warning I was coming. I’m sure this is a shock.”
Her smile turned a little watery, but she stepped aside to make room for him to pass.
Frowning at the fancy rug just inside the doorway, Wolf stomped off the week-old Iraqi desert still clinging to his boots and moved forward. The smell of furniture polish and old money had him hesitating. But only for a moment.
Shoulders back, he followed Hailey down a portrait-filled hallway. He tried to look anywhere but at Clay’s sister. Easier said than done, especially considering the confines of the tiny corridor. Each step she took was dignified and regal, the perfect blend of confidence and class that came from a life spent in country clubs and expensive schools.
Wolf shouldn’t be watching her so closely. It reeked of betrayal to his friend.
Forcing back a spurt of guilt, he focused his gaze on the wall of pictures. They were hung in a haphazard pattern that made an odd sort of sense. Some of the photographs were in large frames, some small. Some were yellowed with age, others much newer. But all had the common theme of family, stability and normalcy, things Wolf had never experienced in his thirty years of life.
His guard instantly went up.
Good thing, too, because in the next moment Hailey led him into a large room with fancy tables, ornate chairs and more photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.
He could handle the obvious wealth reflected in the expensive furnishings. But this, this shadowy sense of homecoming, left Wolf wanting things he couldn’t form into coherent thoughts.
There was something about this room that put him on edge. The comfort that radiated out of every corner was a visible reminder of everything Wolf had missed out on as a child.
Great. Nothing like being the big stinkin’ fish out of water in an already tense situation.
Hailey set her purse and coat on a chair, then turned back to face him. “Please, have a seat, uh…Lieutenant?”
“Captain,” he corrected automatically, looking for a suitable place to sit. “It’s Captain now.”
Unable to settle, Wolf avoided the fragile-looking furniture and strode through the room with clipped, restless strides.
Now that he was here, facing Clay’s sister at last, he didn’t know how to begin.
At the beginning? The end? Somewhere in between?
Hands clasped in front of her, Hailey eyed the soldier pacing through the original parlor of O’Brien House, all the while trying to keep hold of her composure. Unfortunately, Captain Wolfson’s nervousness was wearing off on her. Clearly he had something important to say, but he wasn’t having much success in getting the words past his lips.
So she waited.
And watched.
He couldn’t stand still for more than a few seconds at a time. His fingers tapped out a chaotic rhythm on his thigh. Her toes caught the uneasy cadence, until she realized what she was doing and stopped. Clay had been jumpy like this the first time he’d returned home from Iraq. Clay. Oh, Clay.
Her heart lurched at the mere thought of her brother. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. How she missed him. She’d been so proud of his role in the Army, awed by his dedication, and inspired by his descriptions of the strides the military was making in Iraq. But then God had taken him home. And Hailey had been forced to examine her own life. She hadn’t liked what she’d discovered about herself.
But that was in the past. She was a different woman now, with more conviction. Where Clay had set out to bring peace to the Middle East, she would do what was necessary to bring hope.
Lord, help me to honor my brother’s sacrifice with my mission work. Let him not have died in vain.
Feeling stronger, resolved, she focused once more on Captain Wolfson. He looked at home in his Army camouflage and tan combat boots. What Clay used to call his BDUs.
As she waited for the captain to speak, Hailey silently congratulated herself on maintaining her composure. When she’d opened the door to him earlier she’d almost lost it.
During that terrible, heart-stopping declaration that he’d been with Clay when he’d died the tears had pressed against her lids. Only one had escaped. She’d held the rest back. That’s what mattered. As her mother had always said, an O’Brien woman kept her poise under all circumstances.
Oh, but it hurt to look at this man pacing through her home like a caged panther. With his dark hair, ice-blue eyes and direct gaze, Captain Wolfson was far too much like her brother.
Except…he was nothing like Clay. Hard. Yes, that was the word that came to mind as she gazed up at him. No. Not hard. Sorrowful. Wounded. A man with regrets.
She could stand the suspense no longer. “You said you have something important to tell me?”
He jerked at her voice and then his hand shot out, as though he was reaching for something. His weapon? Clay had reacted the same way whenever a loud noise