Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry Seth, I should have done a better job of knowing what was going on after Trace-”
“Anything else?” Seth cut in, refusing to look at me. Beyond the hurt in his voice was anger.
“Who was the guy this afternoon?” I asked. The question had nothing to do with trying to figure out if Seth was in danger but the curiosity of what the man meant to Seth was driving me crazy.
“Barry?” Seth asked. “A friend.”
“He said you were his patient.”
Seth turned around, his hands clenched into fists. “Are you done?” he bit out. “Because I am. I want you to leave.”
He walked past me but I grabbed his arm. I expected him to fight me but he didn’t. He just stood there, completely still except for the slight tremor in his body but I couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else.
“He wanted you,” I said, hating the jealousy that took over me.
Seth looked at me and for once, his expression was unreadable. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like it one bit. Then he did something unexpected. Instead of pulling away from me, he stepped into me and his free hand came up to close over the fingers I had wrapped around his wrist. I automatically let go of him and stepped back until I hit the island behind me.
“At least someone does,” Seth whispered and then he left the kitchen.
* * *
Seth was gone by the time I got up the next morning, so I pulled up the tracking app on my cell phone. I’d placed a tracking device on his car the day before, so I wasn’t overly concerned about missing him leaving. The app showed that he was in downtown Seattle, presumably his office. Since it was barely seven o’clock, I figured he’d had to have gotten up pretty early to catch one of the first ferries from Whidbey Island to the mainland. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was his normal routine or if he hadn’t wanted to risk running into me this morning.
I hadn’t slept well after my encounter with Seth the night before and for the first time since my arrival, I’d started to wonder if I was doing more harm than good. I’d known Seth would be angry with me for the way I’d cut him out of my life after he’d kissed me three years ago, but I was starting to realize that I’d started the process of cutting him out of it much sooner than that. I’d gone through the motions of being there for him but I hadn’t really been what he’d needed.
After the death of their parents, I hadn’t expected Trace to return to the military and I’d been fully prepared to ask for a transfer to a military hospital in Washington state so I could be with him and Seth. But when he’d shown back up on the base in Afghanistan less than two months after he’d left, I’d been stunned. We’d had our fair share of squabbles over the thirteen months we’d been together, but Trace’s decision to choose the military over his own brother had caused a massive rift between us. And I hadn’t even known at that point the full extent of Seth’s trauma as a result of being used as a pawn to get information from his father.
From the moment I’d met Trace, I’d known that being in the military was in his blood. He’d thrived on every aspect of it, the comradery, the danger, the intense conditions. But it wasn’t until he left Seth in the care of his grandmother that I’d realized it was something more…it was a need he couldn’t give up…not wouldn’t, couldn’t. I’d argued over and over with him that Seth needed him more, but he’d assured me that their grandmother would look out for him and that Seth himself had told Trace it was okay for him to return to the front lines.
A surge of anger went through me at the realization that Trace hadn’t just left Seth when he was vulnerable; he’d left him when Seth would have needed his big brother the most. There was no way in hell Seth would have been able to recover on his own from the brutal attack and knowing now what I knew about his grandmother’s health, I had to wonder if he’d gotten any kind of help.
The realization hit me suddenly and I pulled out my phone and typed in Barry Fields into the search engine of the browser and hardened my jaw when I saw a picture of the young, smiling man next to a short bio saying he was a psychologist specializing in anxiety. I closed the browser and then hit a speed dial button.
“Hey boss.”
I didn’t bother telling the man on the other end not to call me that because he’d do it anyway.