A Facade to Shatter(52)

Lia learned that Zach liked to read biographies and military treatises, and that he’d defied his father by going to the Air Force Academy rather than Harvard. She also learned that he managed his family’s charitable foundation, and that he’d met Taylor Carmichael in his work supporting veterans’ causes.

“Why did you drop the medal?” she asked, and then wanted to kick herself when he stiffened slightly.

But he took a sip of his wine and relaxed. “It’s something the military does automatically, writing you up for medals when you’ve been in combat. But I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of them.”

Her heart pinched at the darkness in his tone. “But why?”

He kept his gaze on the ocean for a long time, and her pulse thrummed hot. She berated herself for pushing him, and yet she felt like she would never know him if she didn’t ask these things. He was her husband, the father of her child, and she wanted to know who he was inside.

He turned to her, his dark eyes glittering hot. “Because six marines died saving me, Lia. Because I was drugged and I didn’t do anything but lay there while they fought and died. They worked so damn hard to save me, and I couldn’t help them. They died because of me.”

Lia swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “I’m sorry, Zach,” she said. She reached for his hand, squeezed it. She was encouraged when he didn’t snatch it away. “But I think they died because they were doing their job, not because of you.”

“You aren’t the first to say that to me,” he said, rubbing his thumb against her palm. “Yet I still have trouble believing it. I’m treated like a hero, and yet I haven’t earned the right to be one. They were the heroes.”

She hurt for him. He looked stoic, sitting there and staring out at the ocean beyond, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. She fought herself, fought her natural inclination not to reach for him because of her fear of being rejected. In the end, the fear won.

“I doubt anyone thinks they weren’t heroes,” she said hotly, because she was angry with herself and angry with him, too. “They had jobs to do, and they did them. But they died because the enemy killed them. No other reason.”

His expression was almost amused when he turned it on her. Except there was too much pain behind that gaze to ever be mistaken for amusement. “How fierce you are, cara. One wonders—do you have a limit? Would you, for instance, stop defending me if I crossed the line?”





CHAPTER TWELVE



SHE WAS LOOKING at him curiously, her brows drawing down over her lovely eyes. He could tell she was grappling with herself, with the things he was saying. Did she want to run? Did she want to lock herself in her room, away from him?

He almost wished she would. It would make things so much easier.

Because he was enjoying this too much, sitting here on the lanai with her and talking about their lives while they ate and watched the sun sink into the sea. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company the way he did hers. He loved women, loved sex, but companionship? He’d never thought of that before. Never cared. The old Zach changed women the way he changed clothes—frequently and as the situation dictated.

But, with Lia, he enjoyed the simple pleasures of spending time with her. It was a dangerous thing. Because she made him feel as if he could be normal again, when he knew he never could. He’d changed too much to ever go back to what he’d been before.

In the beginning, he’d thought it was possible. He’d thought the dreams would go away with time. That’s what everyone said he needed: time. Time was the great healer. Time made everything better. Time, time, time.

He’d had time. More than a year’s worth, and nothing was the same. He had to accept that it never would be. He might always be plagued by dreams and fears, the same as he was plagued with unpredictable headaches. Those had changed his ability to fly forever, so why did he think time could fix the other stuff?

It couldn’t. She couldn’t.

“What line?” she asked, her voice soft and strong at once. As if she was challenging him. As if she didn’t believe him. His chest felt tight as emotions filled him. This woman—this sweet, innocent woman—had faith in him. It was a stunning realization. And a sobering one.

He didn’t want to fail her. And he didn’t want to fail their child.

Another paradigm-shifting realization.