Through the Darkness: Of Love and Loss Series Book One

9

Could he stand? Hadn't he just proved that he and gravity weren't on the best terms at the moment?

Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain in his thigh, Everett rolled from his butt onto his left knee, planted his left foot, and used his cane to help him stand. There. He'd done it. Now what?

He wobbled and feared he'd pass out, but suddenly Pegleg's hands were at his waist, holding him steady.

The wave of dizziness passed, leaving him intensely aware of how close they were. His heart kicked up a notch, and his senses became hyper-aware of her scent. Soft notes of vanilla and roses made him yearn to bring her closer and press his mouth to hers. Would her lips taste as good as she smelled?

His breath caught in his throat, shocked at the thought. An unexpected thrill shot through his veins and filled his mouth with moisture. But the desire grew more intense and caused a peculiar ache in his arms he worried would only be eased by holding her.

She stood taller than he'd thought she'd be; that much became apparent by the hairs at the top of her head tickling his chin.

"Steady..." she murmured. Her breath fanned against the bare skin of his throat and collarbone and caused a delicious shiver. "Do you know where your bed is from here?"

He didn't have the foggiest clue. In his current state, she could have asked him if he had a middle name, and he would have drawn a blank. "Somewhere... over there, I think," he murmured.

She sighed and teased, "I take it one of your responsibilities in the Army wasn't working out logistics or navigating, Captain?"

Everett gave himself a mental shake and bit back a chuckle. "I missed you. Where did you go?"

"I told you, I was at home."

There it was again, the tone that said her world was crumbling down around her despite any words she used to the contrary.

Utter despair. He knew the emotion all too well. The overwhelming desire to say or do something that would comfort her took hold. It settled in his gut like a lead weight. Daphne had said Pegleg called him a friend and wasn't that something friends did for one another?

But what if he was reading her wrong, hearing things in her voice because he felt them within himself? Should he take the risk or play it safe and focus on the matter at hand?

Calling himself a coward, he planted his cane firmly on the wooden floor and began the slow process of turning in the direction he hoped his bed would be.

Three small steps later, and the blasted bed still nowhere at hand, sweat beaded on his skin. He stopped for a breath and fought the desire to vomit. His thigh burned with intense pain like a hot poker had been shoved inside and swirled around the muscles.

Get up and walk, Nurse Winters had said. Your body's ready, she'd said. That damn battle-ax of a woman was lucky she wasn't here now, or she'd be facing his wrath for having pushed him too soon.

He couldn't take much more of this, or he'd break, and there would be no coming back from it, of that he was sure.

"Just a few more steps, and you'll be there," Pegleg murmured in encouragement, her left arm anchored firmly around his waist, offering support.

Everett clenched his jaw tight, bit back a groan, and took another step. At least, he attempted to. But, apparently, his damn leg didn't get the message. Either that or it chose that exact moment to rebel against him.

The muscles clenched in a powerful spasm that stole his breath, causing his entire leg from ankle to hip to lock up. It threw him off balance and gave gravity the upper hand once again.