Miah’s eyes were on her. They’d given her strength, courage, stability. Then later, as the two of them had gotten older, those eyes had given her hot flashes that ran from her spine into the deepest part of her stomach; they’d given her sleepless nights and the kinds of dreams teenage girls lived for. But now, they only gave her fear.
The click of his front door caused her steps to falter. Get a grip. You can do this.
He stepped out of the house. Gray painted on her best practiced smile and reached a hand out to shake his as she neared.
He took two steps down off the front porch and still towered over her, golden eyes dancing in the morning light. He was dressed in jeans that fit him far too well and a pair of scuffed work boots. A red T-shirt stretched over his chest, and, oh Lord, it was hard not to trace the muscles beneath.
His gaze narrowed playfully as he inspected the outstretched hand. Then he reached for her hand and even that somehow had a sensual sensation as his fingers slid over hers and interlocked.
“Gray.” His voice was velvet. Did he have to say her name? It was too intimate, too personal.
“Jeremiah—” She had a plan. A plan to explain that she could certainly check out the lodge to see if it was set up in a manner suitable for the patient. She’d brought booklets and paperwork and would explain how an occupational therapist worked and what could be expected. As she opened her mouth to dive in, his hand tightened on hers. A tremor passed from him to her and when Gray’s eyes again met his, she found him fighting tears.
And suddenly the world had no oxygen. Her own throat closed. “Is it Caleb?”
Massive shoulders quaked once, then again. His strong chin quivered, eyes filling with so many tears they seemed as if they’d float away. He swallowed and she knew he was battling to keep his composure. Everything in Gray’s mind about keeping things professional began to drain from her. He didn’t need to answer her question. Of course it was Caleb. And apparently, things were a lot worse than she’d anticipated.
When he pressed his lips together in an attempt to regain control, she squeezed his hand.
Miah sniffed, blinked, tried to smile.
And she saw the boy she’d loved. All those years ago. She’d seen him do this very thing when his mom died. Trying to be strong, but Miah’s love ran deeper than most. He brushed his free hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve been really committed to not doing that.”
He hadn’t allowed himself to crumble yet. Probably staying strong for Charlee and the other brothers while not allowing himself to cope with his own emotions about Caleb’s injury. “Jeremiah, you have to do this. Allow yourself to process.”
He sniffed again, drawing strength from the world around. “Can’t. He’ll be here in a few days. Too much work to do.”
She squeezed tighter. He was like a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t deal with this, at least to some degree, it’d fester and eventually he’d explode. “Miah.” She released him long enough to drop her stack of papers and brochures on the porch floor.
He started to turn, but with both hands free, Gray gripped his arm, turned him to face her. “Look at me,” she whispered. He’d closed his eyes and she knew it was because Miah couldn’t ever look at her and not tell the truth.
Haunted eyes opened slowly and such a hard war was being waged there, it made her want to turn away. But she held him firmly. He had to break. He’d need to if he was going to be able to do any good for his brother. “How bad is it?”
A sound that was neither a cry nor a groan caught in his throat.
“How bad, Miah?”
“It’s bad, Gray.” And then he broke, silent sobs racking his shoulders. Face contorted, body curled forward.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Gray had once known Jeremiah better than anyone in the world. And though he’d gone away to be a strong soldier, she knew instinctively what he
The click of his front door caused her steps to falter. Get a grip. You can do this.
He stepped out of the house. Gray painted on her best practiced smile and reached a hand out to shake his as she neared.
He took two steps down off the front porch and still towered over her, golden eyes dancing in the morning light. He was dressed in jeans that fit him far too well and a pair of scuffed work boots. A red T-shirt stretched over his chest, and, oh Lord, it was hard not to trace the muscles beneath.
His gaze narrowed playfully as he inspected the outstretched hand. Then he reached for her hand and even that somehow had a sensual sensation as his fingers slid over hers and interlocked.
“Gray.” His voice was velvet. Did he have to say her name? It was too intimate, too personal.
“Jeremiah—” She had a plan. A plan to explain that she could certainly check out the lodge to see if it was set up in a manner suitable for the patient. She’d brought booklets and paperwork and would explain how an occupational therapist worked and what could be expected. As she opened her mouth to dive in, his hand tightened on hers. A tremor passed from him to her and when Gray’s eyes again met his, she found him fighting tears.
And suddenly the world had no oxygen. Her own throat closed. “Is it Caleb?”
Massive shoulders quaked once, then again. His strong chin quivered, eyes filling with so many tears they seemed as if they’d float away. He swallowed and she knew he was battling to keep his composure. Everything in Gray’s mind about keeping things professional began to drain from her. He didn’t need to answer her question. Of course it was Caleb. And apparently, things were a lot worse than she’d anticipated.
When he pressed his lips together in an attempt to regain control, she squeezed his hand.
Miah sniffed, blinked, tried to smile.
And she saw the boy she’d loved. All those years ago. She’d seen him do this very thing when his mom died. Trying to be strong, but Miah’s love ran deeper than most. He brushed his free hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve been really committed to not doing that.”
He hadn’t allowed himself to crumble yet. Probably staying strong for Charlee and the other brothers while not allowing himself to cope with his own emotions about Caleb’s injury. “Jeremiah, you have to do this. Allow yourself to process.”
He sniffed again, drawing strength from the world around. “Can’t. He’ll be here in a few days. Too much work to do.”
She squeezed tighter. He was like a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t deal with this, at least to some degree, it’d fester and eventually he’d explode. “Miah.” She released him long enough to drop her stack of papers and brochures on the porch floor.
He started to turn, but with both hands free, Gray gripped his arm, turned him to face her. “Look at me,” she whispered. He’d closed his eyes and she knew it was because Miah couldn’t ever look at her and not tell the truth.
Haunted eyes opened slowly and such a hard war was being waged there, it made her want to turn away. But she held him firmly. He had to break. He’d need to if he was going to be able to do any good for his brother. “How bad is it?”
A sound that was neither a cry nor a groan caught in his throat.
“How bad, Miah?”
“It’s bad, Gray.” And then he broke, silent sobs racking his shoulders. Face contorted, body curled forward.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Gray had once known Jeremiah better than anyone in the world. And though he’d gone away to be a strong soldier, she knew instinctively what he
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