Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(19)

Then there she was, her silhouette emerged hauntingly in the threshold. She paused then moved toward him. He wished he could see more of her, more beyond what the dark red glow the hall offered. From what he could see, he knew if she had been crying she’d hidden the evidence.

Rushing to her, pulling her in his arms, kissing her was what he wanted to do. But he didn’t. He stayed leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed, waiting for her to approach. Bravely she did, stopping just before him. But her gaze never met his.

“Is it over?” she asked in a quiet tone.

He didn’t want it to be—the storm or them—but he solemnly nodded once.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said when the silence became uncomfortable, when he felt the distance far sooner than he was ready to.

“It’s all good, Declan. I promise.”

He couldn’t handle it any more. He unfolded his arms and pulled her to his chest. Her arms slid around him and up, hooking around his shoulders as she rose to her tiptoes and nestled her face against his neck, breathing in his scent.

She didn’t regret anything, but that didn’t make this any easier, it didn’t settle the sick, trembling feeling taking over her body. Feeling how his hold on her was tight, yet still avoiding every mark on her, the warmth of his lips against her temple made it all worse. She had no idea how many people had seen this side of him, but she knew they were privileged. Feeling as safe as she did with him was a gift.

Declan was so immersed in the moment with her that he assumed the rustling sound he’d heard was the debris above that had been shuffling around in the wind, it wasn’t until he heard his father’s voice say his name at a distance and a flash of light came over his face that reality hit him.

Both Declan and Justice broke away a bit too quickly to have any hope of maintaining an innocent outlook.

Chasen Rawlings wasn’t alone. Nolan was with him and so was Atticus.

At forty-one, Chasen carried a persona that stated he was in his prime, not that he’d lived a thousand lives already.

You’d never know at a glance, in dim light, that the tall, fit man had given fourteen years to the Corps and had come home to take over his uncle’s bar and raise five boys on his own. Granted his parents were there, always helping him when it all seemed to be too much. Now the hard part was over. His baby was sixteen. He had men now and a business that had managed to meet ends for the last two quarters. In a way, he was ready to take a breath for the first time in a long time.

There was a part of Chasen in every one of his sons. Declan was the all out warrior, hard-core. The one who never really managed to get worked up over anything. So when Chasen saw how flighty his son’s eyes were, how Declan’s jaw clenched and he all but put himself between Justice and them, he knew something had happened. Something had broken his boy.

If this was any other time Chasen might be good with the notion, but not now, not six days before Declan was about to go through the hardest phase of his life. When Chasen had left for boot camp twenty-three years before, he’d been eighteen with a wife who was barely seventeen, carrying his first child. His head was never right when he was there. Not when he heard over and over “Jody’s got your girl,” as a taunt to bring out his aggression—that was one of the reasons anyway.

“Jody” was a term that stood for any and every guy at home, and he was with your girl while you were going through hell.

Tobias had gone into the Corps with only the worry of his baby brothers, and did just fine. Chasen was sure Declan would be even better. He had no reason whatsoever to think of home and he had the gumption to make his mark. To go and do anything he wanted.

Any girl at this point would be an upset. This girl, one Chasen had caught his son gawking at since he was boy, a girl who had enough of her own issues, made it even more so.

Atticus, who looked the most like his father with his striking dark hair and baby blues, along with a stubborn chin and critical eye, stood speechless at his father’s side as the ever-fun one, Nolan, spoke up. “You look whole,” Nolan said as he stepped forward and looked into the massive closet Declan and Justice had hid in. He glanced down to the bag, then to Justice. “Good thing I packed a survival bag, eh?”

Declan’s glare was homicidal, enough so that Chasen stepped up, smiling calmly at Justice as he pulled Nolan back a bit. Chasen could read Declan and knew he was seconds from snapping—on who it didn’t matter. He just needed a place to put his frustration with life as a whole.

Before anyone could say anything else the doors at the other end of the hall opened and through them, with flashlights in hand, came the Sheriff and Murdock.

Justice clenched her fist and did her best to seem calm. She had already assumed at this point, one way or another, her father was going to figure out she had been with Declan, but she thought she still had a hope of playing it down, at least she thought she’d have time to recover a bit from this emotionally strung out night before she had to deal with it.

“What’s going on here?” the Sheriff asked as his flashlight hit everyone’s face at least once. The only one who bothered to flinch was Justice, the others stared him down.

Chasen Rawlings nodded his head toward the Sheriff. “What’s up, Hoss,” he said, calling Monty Souter by the same he had called him since they were boys and Monty struggled to keep up on the ball field. “We found your girl down here, forget somebody?” he asked as his sharp gaze flipped to Murdock whose entire body was taut as he glared down Declan.