From the Start Page 6

  Sam eyed her suspiciously. “What about the next morning?”

  “We went to breakfast.” Kacie shrugged. “He walked me home. Asked if we could go out again. I said no and he left. End of story.”

  “You said no?” Sam looked completely bewildered. “But why?”

  “Because . . . I didn’t want to go out with him.”

  “You’re impossible.” Sam folded her arms across her chest and shook her head in disappointment. “That guy was pretty damn hot. Don’t get me wrong. I love Bryce and Michael was definitely too old for me—but he could’ve been a nice little rebound fling for you.”

  “Aren’t there time constraints on what can and cannot be classified a rebound? It’s been over nine months. I think I’ve exceeded the limits.” Kacie gulped down half of her bottled water, hoping to quench her thirst for chocolate. But it just wasn’t working.

  “You’re purposely overthinking this,” Sam said.

  “He’s military.”

  Her sister shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see the problem with that but obviously, you are finding one.”

  “Of course I am! They’re all a bunch of overgrown boys who want to shoot guns and blow stuff up.”

  “That’s a touch dramatic, don’t you think? Not to mention untrue.”

  To hell with it. Kacie opened the cabinet and pulled the pack of Oreos back out. If she wanted to eat the whole damn thing in one sitting, she’d damn well do it. Because she was a grown woman who paid her own bills, her own way, and she’d do what she wanted. She didn’t have to listen to anyone. Not even her sister.

  “I’m moving in a few months,” Kacie explained while peeling the pack open. “I don’t want to start a relationship now.”

  “Nobody said anything about a relationship. Just a fling. A little summer fling. I think it would do you a lot of good.”

  “Why does it matter so much to you?” she asked around a mouthful of cookie.

  Sam’s threw her arms in the air. “Because you’re substituting sex with chocolate.”

  Oh, hell, no.

  “What on Earth does that mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means,” her sister said pointedly. “You’re lonely and cranky and sexually frustrated!”

  Kacie swallowed hard. “Am not.”

  But even as she heard the words come out of her mouth she knew they were nothing but lies. “I’m going to change my clothes,” Kacie said, walking out of the kitchen and effectively putting an end to the conversation. She closed her bedroom door behind her, kicked off her shoes, and flopped down on her bed.

  Her life at the moment was sorely lacking. She knew that. But she was on the road to fixing it. Once she moved to Durham and immersed herself in her new career, she’d be happy. And if she was happy with herself, she wouldn’t need or want a man in her life.

  Besides, everyone knew that soul mates showed up when you least expected them.

  Everything she ever wanted out of life was waiting for her in North Carolina. She just had to be patient for a little bit longer.

  Chapter Seven

  Michael raced out to the medevac, shielding his face and eyes from the dirt and debris kicked up by the helicopter’s rotors. The side door slid open and immediately the medic inside began talking to him. He could see his mouth moving, but couldn’t hear what he was saying because the whomp-whomp-whomp of the rotor blades drowned him out. Frustrated, the medic shoved the litter Danny was lying on out of the helicopter, then slammed the side door shut as it lifted off the ground.

  Michael screamed at the sky, at the medevac leaving them alone, then turned to the tent that was the battalion aid station and yelled for help. But no one came. He grabbed the handles of the litter carrying his brother and dragged it across the ground. Once inside, he lifted Danny from the stretcher and put him on the table. His brother stared up at him, eyes wide open, and as Michael began cutting the clothes from his body, Danny began to laugh.

  “Shut up, Danny!” he yelled. “Shut up!” He couldn’t think with him making all that noise as he tried to remember what he had to do next.

  Danny continued laughing as Michael pressed the scalpel to his torso and within an instant the trickle of blood from his chest became a fast-flowing river of red. He shoved his hands into Danny’s abdomen, hoping to find the bleeder. But there was too much red. He couldn’t see anything as the river became an ocean . . .

  Michael’s eyes shot open and it took several seconds for him to realize he was at home, in his own bed, not back in Mali. He stared at the ceiling fan and took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart rate.

  The nightmares had worsened since their last deployment to Afghanistan. This week, he had woken up every night with his heart racing and sheets drenched in sweat. It didn’t matter if he cranked the air-conditioning way down or turned the fan on high before he went to bed. He still dreamed he was in that oppressing African heat and his brother was dying before his very eyes.

  As far back as he could remember, Michael’s worst fear had been something happening to Danny and not being able to save him. From the time his mother asked him to watch out for his little brother, he’d taken that responsibility seriously. He kept his eye on Danny for the next eight years until he graduated high school. Even after he went off to college, then medical school, he’d frequently call to check on his little brother. A dozen years passed and things always seemed just fine.

  But Michael had grown complacent, and during Danny’s freshman year at the University of South Carolina, things quickly went south. His little brother was not only kicked out of school, but he joined the army and somehow managed to become a member of the 75th Ranger Regiment, an elite special operations squadron that was known for leading the way into enemy territory.

  In Michael’s mind, there wasn’t a question about what he needed to do next. And for the most part, he didn’t regret becoming a member of the 75th. However, every time Danny’s contract was about to expire, Michael would silently hope and pray his brother would choose not to reenlist just so he could breathe again. Those prayers always went unanswered.

  Finally, sometime well before dawn, Michael climbed out of bed, dressed in his running gear, and laced his shoes. He wasn’t really motivated to run, but what was the alternative? Spend another three hours staring at the ceiling wondering why he seemed to be the only person affected by the anniversary of Danny nearly dying?

  When he’d spoken to his father the evening before, all they’d discussed was what a great round of golf the old man had shot earlier in the day. Danny and Bree were away for the weekend at that wedding. But even if they were in town would they be thinking of what happened a year before? Or were they both so happy with their lives now that they didn’t bother reflecting on the past?

  He simply had no option but to deal with it on his own.

  The moment he hit the road and fell into a steady rhythm, Michael knew he’d made the right decision. Because if he hadn’t gone for a run now, he’d be feeling guilty later. And if he felt guilty enough, he’d go running no matter the time of day or the heat index. It was best to just get it over with.

  Of course, that’s what Danny always used to say. Get it over with. Hangover or no hangover. Sleep. No sleep. Just get it over with.

  He and Danny used to meet to run at five in the morning, sometimes earlier, just to avoid the worst of the oppressive Georgia summers. But since Danny and Bree moved out of the apartment complex and into their new house across town last fall, he and his brother rarely ran together anymore. Even though his little brother often made him crazy, and as much as he hated feeling responsible for him at times, there was no denying that he missed him.

  And this particular week just amplified those feelings because Michael knew exactly how close he had come to losing Danny forever.

  So he ran hard, faster than normal even, like he’d be able to outpace his demons. But three hours later, he was right back where he started, alone in his apartment with his thoughts.


  After a quick shower and change of clothes, he grabbed up his keys along with his golf clubs and headed back out the door. It had been months since he last played, weeks before their last deployment to Afghanistan as a matter of fact. A trip to the driving range was what he needed, something to knock the rust off his swing.

  But first, breakfast. A quiet place to sit down with a hot cup of coffee and a donut.

  And a peach fritter. Maybe a sticky bun, too.

  The chorus of lawn mowers started early and were soon joined by the whine of a weed eater circling the perimeter of her small carriage house. It was only a matter of time before the leaf blowers got in on the act.

  Since sleeping in wasn’t a possibility, she gathered her backpack and headed down the street to her favorite café. Nestled between two larger buildings and behind a large live oak, the place was barely visible from the sidewalk. With limited seating and a cozy atmosphere, it was the perfect oasis. Lucky for her, a small table situated near the French doors leading to a lovely courtyard became available the moment she walked in. She quickly placed her order, then settled in for what she hoped would be a quiet, productive morning.

  Kacie had been there nearly an hour when the bell above the door jangled, signaling the coming and going of another customer. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she was compelled to look up. And just like a scene from a movie, she was struck dumb by the tall, well-dressed man who pulled his aviator sunglasses from his face and slipped them on the top of his head. Kacie’s heart skipped a beat, immediately recognizing those dark blue eyes.

  She slid down in her seat and held the textbook she was reading a little higher, angling her head just enough to peek around the side. Surely, he hadn’t come here looking for her? She searched her memory, trying to recall if she’d ever mentioned this place or the fact she liked to come here on Sunday mornings. But he didn’t appear to be the stalker type. And to be quite honest, if anyone was acting shady, it was her.

  The door jangled again as a few more customers entered, and he stretched his arm out, indicating for them to go ahead. From the way he was taking up residence in front of the bakery case, it looked like he couldn’t decide what to get.

  A young woman behind the counter smiled flirtatiously at him and he politely smiled in return before turning his attention to the treats, one hand drifting up to his chin. He scrubbed his knuckles against his jaw almost in frustration.

  The longer she watched him, the more he didn’t seem like the same guy she’d had breakfast with. Instead of the confident, cocky man she remembered, he looked almost lost, uncomfortable. Before she knew it, she was rising to her feet and walking over to him. When she laid her hand on his arm, he practically jumped out of his skin.

  “Hey there,” she said. He turned to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Was he annoyed she approached him? Maybe he didn’t recognize her. “I’m Kacie. We met at—”

  “I remember.” Then he smiled.

  Oh, Lord. She’d somehow forgotten how pretty his smile was.

  He cocked his head to one side. “It’s really nice to see you.”

  She felt her skin heat beneath his gaze, forcing her to look away. What was it about this guy that made her feel like a blushing teenage girl?

  She took a deep breath, hoping to regain some composure. To remind herself that she was a smart, professional, grown woman. But when she looked up and saw those deep blue eyes intently watching her, she damn near melted a second time.

  Somehow, she found her voice again. “Are you meeting someone?”

  His smile widened as he shook his head. “No.”

  Damn that smile. She decided right then and there it could be the end of her.

  “Well, I have a table.” Then, like an idiot, she pointed across the room to the empty table with her things piled on top, all because she didn’t know what the hell to do with her hands. “You can use it.”

  Without warning, his smile disappeared. “Are you leaving?”

  “No, uh . . . I wasn’t planning on it.”

  His smile returned. “So you’re inviting me to sit with you?”

  “Um . . . yeah.” Kacie winced at her response. She sounded like a nitwit even to her own ears. Then she went and made things worse. “The cruellers are really good. You know, if you’re having a hard time deciding.”

  “Good to know.” Michael gestured toward the counter. “Would you like anything? Need a refill on your coffee or tea or whatever you’re drinking?”

  “No. I’m fine. I’ll just . . .” Like an idiot she turned and looked at the table as if there was a possibility someone would’ve walked away with it. “Wait. Over here.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be there.” He leaned closer. “In a minute.”

  She took a few steps backward, maintaining eye contact until she nearly bumped into another table and was forced to watch where she was going.

  Kacie shook her head as she returned to her seat. What the hell was wrong with her? She had only a matter of minutes to get her head straight, otherwise he’d be leaving here with the belief she was a total dingbat.

  After shutting down her laptop and stuffing it in the protective sleeve of her backpack, she went about stacking up her books and papers until her pen rolled off the edge of the table. She leaned over to grab it, and when she sat upright she saw that Michael was now holding the textbook she had been reading in his hand.

  “Neuronal Migration Disorders?” One side of his mouth kicked up as he handed back her book. “Nothing like a little light reading on a Sunday morning.”

  She took the book from his hand and shoved it into her backpack along with the rest of her papers. “Just trying to get a little ahead on my required reading.”

  “So you’re going back to school?” He settled into the chair opposite her with his coffee and tray full of pastries. “You said you were moving at the end of July. Where are you going?”

  Considering the hangover he must have been suffering that morning, the fact that he not only listened to what she said but retained that information was impressive indeed.

  “Duke.”

  Having taken a large bite from what appeared to be a jelly donut, he could only nod in response. And to be honest, she fully expected the conversation to end there.

  “Are you going back to school to become a physical therapist?”

  His question caught her off guard and she choked on a sip of her chai tea. “What would make you say that?”

  He smiled while reaching for another napkin. “I might have noticed a physical therapy program brochure on your coffee table. But I swear that’s all,” he said while quickly swiping sticky glaze from his fingers. “No searching your bathroom or kitchen cabinets. No looking in your fridge or pantry. Not even a peek into your nightstand, although I was sorely tempted.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Did I miss anything interesting? Blindfolds? Silk scarves? Furry handcuffs?” And then he winked at her.

  Kacie felt her jaw drop.

  Did he really just ask if kept sex toys in her bedside table? And shouldn’t she be offended by such an implication?

  Except now she kind of wished she did have something of interest in there.

  Even more, if she’d had such a thing, she would’ve liked it if he had taken a peek.

  She took another sip of her chai, which didn’t help to cool her off any. She desperately needed to steer the conversation in a different direction, otherwise she’d implode right there in her chair.

  “I’m already a physical therapist. I have my doctorate as a matter of fact. What I’ll be doing is a pediatric PT residency combined with a neurodevelopmental disabilities research fellowship.”

  He didn’t respond for a long time, just politely nodded while he continued with his next pastry and then washed it down with a sip of his coffee. If he was anything like her ex, he probably didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

  “I have a friend from med school, an old roommate actua
lly, who went into research instead of primary care. He’s currently at Stanford conducting a large-scale clinical trial for a new medication intended for kids with Fragile X syndrome.”

  Now it was her turn to feel lost in the conversation.

  Kacie gave herself a mental shake. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you went to medical school?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Johns Hopkins.”

  “You said you were in the army.”

  “I am,” he replied, once again grabbing a fresh napkin to wipe his mouth and chin. “I’m the battalion surgeon for the 1st/75th.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew what the 1st/75th was. Hell, everyone in Savannah knew who they were. They were the crazy guys who went to dangerous places and jumped out of airplanes in the middle of the night to chase down scary people. And when they weren’t doing that, they usually took the city by storm with their nighttime training maneuvers.

  “You’re the medical officer for the Rangers?”

  He smiled proudly. “Yep.”

  Kacie covered her eyes and shook her head. “For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled under her breath.

  She heard chair legs scrape against the old wood-plank floors and footsteps walking away. If he was getting up and leaving without saying goodbye, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  A couple of minutes passed and the footsteps returned and her arm was bumped with something cold. Kacie looked up to see him standing there with a large glass in each hand.

  “It’s getting too hot to drink coffee so I got myself a lemonade. Got you one, too, if you want it.”

  Oh, man. He was such a gentleman. She looked at the large glass he set in front of her, then back to him smiling at her. “Are you kidding me about being a doctor? Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  He handed her a straw and then unwrapped his own. “Afraid I’m not. Is there a problem I’m not aware of?”

  “Yes. There’s a big problem. Because here you were being all cute and charming and I thought I could overlook the fact you have the same name as my ex. And the military thing. But being a doctor, too?” Kacie threw down her straw on the table. “No way. I also swore off doctors—well, all medical professionals, really—on the very first day of my inpatient clinical rotation because I didn’t want that kind of drama in my life. And you, sir, have hit the trifecta. You actually managed to tick off every box on my no-fly list.”