Pieces of Broken Time (8 page)

Not even if I paid ’em.

His heart lurched and his stomach tightened at the memory of Katrina.

Jennifer awoke with a start. She heard the tail end of her scream and struggled to sit up. Somehow, nightmares had spared her, even in the months immediately following Trent’s death.

Why now? And why Blake?

She scrambled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom to wash her face and clear the remnants of the godforsaken dream.

Wiping her face dry, she glanced at her reflection. Mottled cheeks, puffy eyes, and an unhappy expression stared back at her. “You’re crazy, Jen.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tried to push the haunting thoughts away. She’d dreamt of Blake coming home from the war, his uniform tattered, his face burned beyond recognition, yet she’d welcomed him with open arms. Instead of stepping into her embrace, he had turned away and walked back to a burning car. He had pulled out a body from the fiery wreckage and brought a dead soldier back to her.

“No . . .”

“I’m so sorry. I tried. I was hoping it was me instead of him.” Tears trickled from his eyes but fizzled as soon as they touched his burning cheeks.

“Blake . . . no, not you.”

“It was either Trent or me. He gave up. His heart gave out.” His broken sobs had ripped through her in the dream. “I’m sorry, Jennifer.”

She closed her eyes and covered her ears, trying to block out the images and the remains of her dream from her mind. A cry rose in her throat and a new breed of pain gripped her. The helpless kind of ache she hadn’t felt before. Her heart rammed against her ribcage at the painful reminder of two lives ensconced by the bitter effects of the war.

Staggering back to her room, she knelt down by the bed and pulled a box containing pictures from underneath. Pictures she had avoided looking at for fear of hurting all over again. It seemed as if the dream and seeing Blake again had opened a well of sorrow she’d fought hard to forget.

She opened the box to see a photo taken in 2009, according to Trent’s scribble on the back of the picture. The image of two grinning men with an arm on the other’s shoulder, each holding a bottle of beer, greeted her.

Trent had been good-looking in a
GQ
kind of way, while Blake had a more rugged appeal with piercing blue eyes that stared right through her. He and Trent had been almost the exact same height, same build—muscular, arresting, and both incredibly pleasing to the eye. While Trent’s open smile reached ear to ear, Blake’s hinted at some secret.

Jennifer sank to the floor, still staring at the picture.

The man she had seen yesterday was different. Not because of the noticeable scars on his neck and chin or the eye patch he wore, but because of the hostility emanating from him. His dismissal of her and his rudeness was all part of the wall he’d built around himself to hide his confusion and pain.

She didn’t know Blake well, but when she thought of all he’d done for Trent in the past her anger eased and she felt compelled to return the favor.

What can I do when he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me?

Through it all, one question kept nagging—how had he ended up in the same city? Of course, that one caused a chain reaction of questions to sprout up. How long had they been neighbors? She was sure the Jeep she had spotted parked in front of his house was the same one she’d seen racing past her house yesterday. Had Blake been watching her all along? She had questions piling on top of each other and the only person who had the answers wanted nothing to do with her.

There was a faint knocking at her door.

She threw the picture on her bed and pushed the box back in its hiding place. Pulling her robe tightly around her, she ran toward the door as she wiped the errant tears away.

Leaving a little gap but not releasing the chain bolt, she peered out and gasped.

Blake, hands buried in his pockets and one-eyed piercing gaze, regarded her with intensity. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

Chapter 7

Jennifer remained glued behind the door, watching Blake through the small crack that separated them. She must’ve have stared long enough to make Blake uncomfortable because he shifted and looked at her expectantly.

She only blinked twice in reply, and he sighed and turned back toward the door.

Say something!

“You’re not the same man I met a year ago. You’re an angry man and very, very rude.” Not what she’d intended to say, but the words were out of her mouth before she’d had the chance to think.

Blake whipped his body around, his eye flickering. “I’m not at all what Trent painted me out to be.” His voice was gravelly, and there was a hint of sadness Jennifer recognized right away.

“Trent was never wrong, but I suppose there’s always a first time.” Another one of those things she wouldn’t have said under normal circumstances, but this wasn’t even remotely normal. She pushed the chain lock to open, stepped past the threshold, and out the door.

He narrowed his uncovered eye into a slit and watched her just long enough to make her squirm. “I apologized already. I could’ve handled your uninvited visit better.”

She gaped and her blood began to boil.

The nerve of this . . . this . . .

She stepped forward to give him a piece of her mind but stopped short when she realized this was about to turn into fighting like little children in front of her house.

“I should have called before I came, but since we are
neighbors
 . . . I thought it was neighborly to pop in and say, ‘hi.’ ”

Blake’s jaw clenched, and she thought she heard him huff. His insolent gaze traveled from her face to her ratty robe, lingering around the area of her breasts, before slipping to her bare feet.

How dare he! As if I’m something to eat.

She felt a frisson of anger flush within and tilted her chin up.

His mouth twitched upward.

If he felt uneasy with her reference to their living proximity, he showed no signs, and it only made her angrier.

“This is a free country. I chose to live in a town where my neighbor doesn’t have to know my name.” He turned around and moved across the gravel drive toward a Jeep with a dog in the seat waiting for him.

“Where are you going?” She took several steps down her small porch, but the searing heat of the pavement under her bare feet made her jump back.

Blake glanced over his shoulder, his lips quirking into a sneer. “I came to apologize and I did. I’m going home.” He swung his right leg into the driver’s seat with obvious effort. Half seated, he pulled his left leg up. He shot her a glare, as if daring her to say something.

You pompous ass!

Jennifer felt the curse working its way out of her mouth and, before she could stop herself, the words spilled out. “If you made the trip, the least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee.”

What the—okay, not where I saw that going.

Blake stared out the windshield with a hard scowl. It took another moment before his shoulders relaxed.

“You can bring your dog, too.” She stepped inside and gripped the doorknob, hoping he’d say yes.

What’s gotten into me?

Sure, he had been Trent’s friend, but this man had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d come to apologize, and he’d done just that.

To her surprise, he heaved his body out of his Jeep, wincing at the same time.

She could only imagine his physical pain. She had so many questions, but common sense told her she’d better hold them for another time.

“Drew, come, boy.” The bass of his voice lacked the hostile tone he had used on her. It sounded almost mellow, like a caress.

The large dog jumped from the backseat onto the hot pavement and looked up at his master.

With a noticeable limp, Blake walked back to her porch, dog on his heels, and took the few steps one at a time.

She had no medical background, but it was easy to see his caution had something to do with his visual impairment.

She stayed still, trying not to stare, and restrained herself from offering help. Once he made it up the steps, she stepped back and let him walk in. When his arm accidentally brushed against hers, she shivered despite the hot day. He smelled like mint and honest-to-goodness male sweat.

Get a grip, Jennifer
.

He stood in the middle of the room with the powerful looking animal next to him and waited for her.

She stepped to his right, his good side, and stopped short when it registered what she’d done. She had no idea why.

Why do I care when he seems hell-bent on making me uncomfortable?

Jennifer cleared her throat and gestured toward the chair. “Have a seat. Let me start the coffee.”

Blake didn’t respond nor did he move.

Instead of running to the kitchen to start the pot, she headed toward her bedroom. She heard a grunt followed by the squishing sound of the sofa cushions as soon as she was out of view.

Running to her walk-in closet, she pulled out a pair of denim shorts and a white cotton T-shirt. After changing, she stepped into the bathroom to comb her bed-head hair and tied it into a high ponytail. Taking a deep breath and settling her fluctuating emotions, she passed by the living room on her way to the kitchen.

The Doberman sat on the floor next to Blake who sat on the sofa, ramrod straight, with his gaze fixed on picture frames on the mantel, and he didn’t seem to notice her passing by.

She disappeared into the kitchen and grabbed the carafe. She busied herself with preparing the coffee while caught in a daze. She glanced at the clock and debated whether to return to the living room and sit with Blake while the coffee percolated. Deciding against it, she retrieved the powdered creamer and sugar containers from the cupboard and placed them with the exquisite antique cups and matching saucers left to her by Aunt Debbie.

Thank God, Jennifer’s house was cool. Between his cotton, long-sleeved shirt, his beanie, and the jeans, he looked like one of those wandering transients. He came complete with a dog, too. Blake surveyed the entire room, taking in every detail.

Her place seemed homey. There were books everywhere, on the table, by the sofa where he sat, and piled in a neat row next to picture frames by the end table. Several mannequins were propped against the wall with rolls of fabrics next to them. The eclectic fireplace was surrounded by green stones synonymous with the 70s era.

Looking at the hearth with the blackened edges, he imagined Jennifer sitting by the fire during cold winter nights, alone. His heart constricted at the unhappy picture.

The mantel held several framed photographs and he strained to see them. Squinting, one particular photo caught his attention.

Trent was grinning happily, but not at the camera. He was gazing down at Jennifer, who wore a small smile and stared right into the camera’s lens, her expressive eyes misty. Trent held her hand while his other hand encircled her waist.

Blake blinked and shifted his attention to the rest of the room, immersing in the warmth of being under the same roof with her. Trent had told him everything there was to know about this beautiful and caring woman. In a strange way, Blake felt as though he’d known her for years. Truth was, he barely knew her and outside of their shared time with Trent, he’d been a total ass to her . . . nothing to be proud of.