When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(63)

“Taryn? What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you. Come on. We’re going to my place.”

“What? Why?”

He was pale. Sweat drenched his T-shirt. When she touched his upper arm, his skin was clammy. She pulled gently.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

She’d thought he might fight. Instead he nodded and moved toward her. She led him across the mats. After stepping into her shoes, she headed for the front of the building. Justice met them in the hall. He handed Taryn a small black duffel bag.

“A change of clothes,” he said.

She took them. “I’ll call you later.”

She and Angel walked out of the building and toward her car. When she’d unlocked the passenger door, he got in without being asked.

She watched him fumble with the seat belt. But his hands were taped and swollen and he couldn’t move his fingers. She bent down and fastened it for him, then kissed his cheek.

He turned toward her. For a second, she would have sworn she saw tears in his eyes. Then he blinked and it was as if they’d never been there at all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ANGEL DIDN’T SPEAK on the short drive to Taryn’s house. She kept glancing at him, trying to see if he was okay, but she couldn’t tell much from his profile. When they got to her place, she guided him inside. She checked the duffel and saw that Justice had given her a full set of clothing, so she led Angel to the bathroom off the master and started the shower.

After kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her jacket, she pulled off his T-shirt. He toed out of his sneakers and pulled off his socks, then stood immobile while she carefully unwrapped the tape on his hands.

She went as slowly and carefully as she could, but she knew she had to be hurting him. His skin was cut, raw and bruised. Blood seeped from open wounds. He looked as if he’d been in a hell of a fight and she supposed he had been. She wondered who the opponent had been and suspected it had been himself. But why?

When she was done with the tape, she opened the shower door. “Finish undressing,” she told him. “Take a shower. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

He nodded. She went out and closed the bathroom door behind him. She exhaled slowly when she heard him close the shower door.

She changed her clothes quickly and then dug out an old first aid kit. By the time she returned to the bathroom, Angel was toweling off. His blood left stains on her towel, but she didn’t care.

After he was dressed, she took him to the dining room, where she’d set out her supplies. At least now his hands were clean. She used an antiseptic spray and the largest bandages she owned to patch him.

“Is this going to be okay?” she asked. “Should you go to a doctor or the hospital?”

“Just a few scratches,” he told her.

His voice was low and rough. As if he hadn’t spoken in days. Or had been screaming until he was hoarse. She knew neither was true. She kept her hands lightly on top of his, careful not to put any weight on his wounds. She studied him.

His hair was mussed—damp and sticking up in places. He was pale. Still broad through the shoulders. Powerful, yet not fully with her.

“Angel? What happened?”

He looked at her. There was something in his eyes, she thought. A vacancy. For a second she wondered if he even knew she was in the room.

He swallowed. “We were both so damn young, Marie and I. Kids, really. I was a new recruit and she worked in her uncle’s store. Her family wasn’t happy about us dating. Not at first. But I was like that stray dog you can’t shake. No matter what, I wouldn’t go away. So they accepted the inevitable and we got married. Two months later, I shipped out.”

He was still staring at something she couldn’t see. Telling the story to her or to someone else? Maybe himself? She knew it didn’t matter. That in the telling came whatever healing he would have today.

He swore. “I missed her and I loved what I was doing about the same. Which made for a difficult time. When I got home a year later, she held out a baby boy. She’d been pregnant and hadn’t told me. She’d said she didn’t want to worry me. That I was doing dangerous things and needed to concentrate. She’d named him Marcus, after my dad.”

“That must have made you feel good,” she said quietly. “Happy.”

“I was. We were. We were a family and I loved them both.”

She moved her hands to his forearms and squeezed. She didn’t know why he was dealing with this today, but she could feel his pain. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident.”

“If I had been there... If I had been driving...”

“It’s not possible for one person to protect another from life.”

“I know.” His voice filled the room as he roared the words and stood. “I know that I couldn’t shield them from accidents and pain. But I should have tried. I should have been there. I loved them and I didn’t keep them safe.”

He crossed to the window and stared out at her small yard. She watched him, not sure what to do. She could intellectually understand his pain but couldn’t know what it felt like in her heart. Because she’d never allowed herself to love that much. Not even Jack, who had squeezed his way in more than anyone else.

She’d never been in love, had never wanted to be. Faced with his tangible grief, she wondered if it was ever worth it.