The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(34)

“How long?”

“I was sixteen. Just out of foster care.”

She betrayed no hint of pity or surprise. “How did you end up in foster care?”

He laid his head back and stared through a smoky haze toward the ceiling. If she’d pressed him harder, he might have blown her off. But she didn’t. She only sat and watched and waited. Had Noah taught her how silence could be used to extract information?

She nibbled the corners of the graham crackers, acting as if she had all night. Which technically she did. What would it hurt to tell her? After all, it was ancient history and didn’t bother him anymore.

“My mom was a druggie. Opiates mostly. OD’d when I was nine. No one wanted me, so I was shuffled into the foster system.”

He didn’t mention the fact that he was the one who’d found her on the bathroom floor before school one morning. He hadn’t touched her, only backed out of the dingy little bathroom, called 911, and waited for the police on the front steps.

“How could no one want to adopt you?” Outrage for his younger self colored her tone.

“People want to adopt babies, not troubled kids. Nine is ancient in foster care.”

“What’s the difference between living with a foster family and getting adopted?”

“Foster families can return you if you’re defective.” The first days in a new family were always the worst. His attempt to act perfect always failed. “I got returned a lot.”

Her soft sound of sympathy landed like a punch to his chest.

“I deserved it. I lied. Stole. Was generally an asshole.”

“You were hurting.” She’d cut through to the truth in seconds.

He’d struggled with nightmares about his mother until other even more painful ones took their place. “When I was sixteen, I got one last shot. The state fostered me with a retired Army sergeant. He’d never married and occasionally took on problem kids.”

“Laurence from the compass. The man who adopted you.”

“I called him Sarge. The compass was a gift the day the adoption became legal.” He swallowed down a lump, surprised to realize his history still had the teeth to wound. “So I could always find home, he said.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” When he reviewed his past, he tended to focus on the difficult times, but his pairing with Sarge had been a stroke of fortune for which he could never repay the universe. “That weekend he took me out into the woods for a camping trip. I had s’mores for the first time. It was … special.”

“I’ll bet. You finally had a family.” She finished her last bite, propped her chin in her hand, and regarded him with an intensity that veered toward uncomfortable. “Is he still in Mississippi?”

Bennett’s good luck never lasted. Maybe that’s why he was cynical. “Died during one of my first tours in the Navy. I was on a six-month rotation in the South China Sea and couldn’t get home in time.”

“I’m so sorry. Life seems to snatch the best people too soon.” Her hand brushed the back of his, and before he thought better of it he caught it close.

The firelight sparked off the lighter brown in her hair, turning it golden. Her eyes were bright with life, and her T-shirt and jeans molded her body. She was more beautiful now than in the few pictures Noah had shared. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, aware of the strength beneath the softness.

Harper was at once practical and a dreamer, vulnerable and ballsy, and vastly more complex than he’d imagined her. No longer a two-dimensional caricature drawn from her emails and letters to Noah, she was flesh and blood and exuded an innocent sexuality that was more dangerous than anything he’d ever faced. To his sanity at least.

Noah’s ghost stepped out of the shadows where he always lurked. Guilt ran roughshod over reopened wounds. Noah’s widow was off-limits. Especially to him. A tangible shift in mood occurred. He pulled his hand away, balled it on his lap, and stared into the fire, his vision turning fuzzy.

“What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t met him?” she asked.

His heart stopped. If he hadn’t met Noah, would Noah still be alive?

“I assume you joined up because of Laurence—Sarge, I mean?” she added with a smiling glance.

He blinked, searching for equilibrium. She hadn’t been referring to her dead husband. The man who’d extracted promises before dying in Bennett’s arms. “Sarge wanted me to go into the Army, but I had dreamed about being a SEAL. With all the shuffling around, my grades weren’t great. Plus, my state file was thick. And not with commendations. I had to enlist in regular Navy and prove myself first.”

“First a SEAL and now you own your own business. I wonder how many foster kids are as successful as you are.”

He shrugged away a weird embarrassment. Compliments and praise were two things he’d never gotten much of growing up or in the navy.

Like a wild animal seeking an escape, he grabbed the pot and a flashlight and headed for the door. “I’ll go clean up.”

“Since there’s no running water, how do you handle personal functions, if you know what I mean?” She waggled her eyebrows.

His survival weekends attracted serious-minded men and women who were at least familiar enough with outdoor living to know the basics.