PTSD, the psychiatrist assigned to him after the shooting had labeled it, the body giving way as remembered trauma took control. According to the shrink, the stress showed up in different ways.
Yeah, he’d dealt with that, right after the...incident. It had eased up a lot since then. He was fine. Fine, except for those nights he woke up in a sweat. And those times he paced his apartment to outrun the demons chasing him.
And, so it seemed, when he heard his baby sister joke about his weapon.
He parked near the corral on Garland Ranch and shot a glance at the woman who stood outside the fence, her back to them. Andi. He thought of all the drugs the shrink had offered him and he had refused. Seeing Andi again made him feel better than any drug ever could.
With one boot planted on the lowest rail, she watched a blond-haired little boy on a small Shetland. Her son, Trey, he had no doubt.
“That’s him,” Laurie said, as if she’d read his mind. But one glance told him her mind was on the teenager leading the horse. He’d wager he knew who that was, too.
By the time he had eased out of the truck and made his way around it, Laurie had left him far behind.
Either Andi had no interest in newcomers or she hadn’t recognized Laurie as his sister, because she hadn’t moved from her spot near the rail. He had time to notice the fall of blond hair around her shoulders and the way her jeans hugged her curves. He even had time to remember how it had felt to hold those curves. By the time she turned to look his way, he’d broken into a sweat brought on by the memories. That was the kind of healing meds he needed.
Dragging his shirtsleeve across his brow, he took a deep breath. Then he moved forward, cursing his knee brace and every halting step she had to see.
She clung to the top rail the way he’d gripped the steering wheel. Her gaze shot toward the barn.
“Eddie and Laurie are with the boy. Your son?”
She nodded.
“Tell me about your kids.”
The light in her face told him he’d said the right thing. The same light he once saw when she looked at him.
“Trey is two, almost three.”
“Ah. The terrible twos?” When her eyes widened in surprise, he shrugged. “I remember my brothers and sisters going through them.”
“Well, I’ll admit my son has had his moments.” A smile lit her face even more. “It’s been good for Trey to be here on the ranch and around Tina’s son, Robbie, and Pete’s two kids. You remember Pete Brannigan?”
He nodded. “Jed said he’s ranch manager now. And he did mention the kids.”
“Yes. He has a girl and boy of his own. All three of the kids are just old enough not to take any interest yet in my daughter, Missy.”
“She’s...?”
“Six months.”
“Yeah, she’s young.” He did the math. By rights, he and Andi could have started a family of their own before either of her kids had been born. But she had left him, and they had lost their chance.
The sudden faraway look in her eyes prompted him into speech. “Jed tells me you’re staying at the hotel.”
“Temporarily,” she shot back.
He winced at the echo of his response when Jed had mentioned his coming home. Hopefully, he hadn’t sounded as defensive. Looked as if Andi didn’t plan to stay around Cowboy Creek. Neither did he.
“I’m only here through the holidays,” she added.
“This is just a short visit for me, too.”
“And then you’ll go back to Los Angeles.”
She sounded as if what he did concerned her. He couldn’t trust that he’d read her right. But he would bet good money she hadn’t forgotten their summer.
He would never forget that day he’d looked across the barn to find the hottest girl he’d ever seen standing in the doorway, a blonde angel in a T-shirt, jeans and riding boots. He’d fallen head over heels and would have sworn she’d done the same.
Every day, once his work at the ranch was done, they had spent as much time together as they could. Until that one day she had just up and left without saying a word.
But here they were.
He had the feeling she was about to repeat history and walk off. “I belong in LA,” he said, half to remind himself and half to keep her with him, as pathetic as both of those felt for him to admit. “I’m with the police department.”
“That’s a dangerous job. A tough one for you, and just as hard on your wife and kids.”
As she ought to have seen by her own husband’s death, in the right—or wrong—circumstances, any job had its risks. He shook his head. “I don’t have a wife. Or any family there. It’s just me.”
Alone at home. On his own on the job.
And now standing here beside the girl who’d started him down that road.
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to gently stroke the fine, lined skin near her eye.
“I’m not wearing well,” she said with a forced laugh.
“We’ve all gotten older.” But maybe not wiser. He cupped her cheek with his palm. The warmth spreading through his hand more than made up for the risk he’d taken in touching her. For a brief moment, she tilted her head, resting against his hand. Her reaction closed the gap left by all the years they had lost. It finally chased away all his resentment.
Her eyes misted. She turned away. “I’m sorry about not contacting you. Everything was just too much for me. I had to focus on my mom.”
She looked toward the barn, as if planning to head over there. He didn’t want her to leave.
“That’s a big load for an eighteen-year-old to handle,” he said.
“For anyone to handle, believe me.” She sighed. “Sometimes, life doesn’t seem fair.”
“That’s because it isn’t. We all get the luck of the draw—and sometimes it’s bad luck.”
Just what he’d heard from everyone back in LA.
After a quick nod, Andi walked away.
He leaned against the rail, easing the pressure on his knee, and watched her go. That summer afternoon years ago, he’d had no idea he wouldn’t see her again. Would the same thing happen now? Was he simply destined to have bad luck when it came to her?
Though he could parrot the words his buddies on the force had told him, that didn’t mean he wanted to accept their verdict about the situation.
And though everything in him said he should keep his distance from Andi, that didn’t mean he had the strength to heed his own warning.
As she crossed the yard to the barn, Andi could almost feel Mitch’s gaze on her back. She could definitely still feel the warmth filling her from the touch of his hand against her cheek. In that one all-too-brief moment, she had changed into a teen again, and he had become the boy she loved. In his eyes in that moment, she saw the boy who loved her, too.
But their teenagers-in-lust days were long over.
Resolutely, she focused on the group standing in the barn doorway and kept moving toward them, away from Mitch and his warm hands and his crooked smile and his unfamiliar stiff-legged walk.
When she approached the group, her son gave her the wide grin that always reminded her so much