Embattled Minds (Military Romance) (Lost And Found Series) (4 page)

He tensed even further beneath her and his cool blue eyes darkened with anger. “PTSD?”

She nodded. “Although he doesn’t think so. He just has ‘dreams’ he says.”

“Where is…h-h-he now?”

“In jail. I pressed charges against him, hoping that he would finally get the help he needed. The week before Christmas.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, but he wiped them away with gentle fingers. “I think he understands, though, because he hasn’t bonded out, even though he has the means.”

Zeke nodded and tapped his chest, over his heart.

“He knows? Maybe. I love my dad so much, but he could have seriously injured me. As it is, he gave me a concussion. And this.” She waved at the marks on her face. “If he’d done this to my son, he would never have seen me again. Us.”

Zeke tipped his head in agreement, and Ember appreciated that he wasn’t trying to stand up for him, in some misguided Marine solidarity. She already felt like shit for putting her father in jail; she didn’t need somebody disagreeing with her actions.

“All…veterans n-need counseling. Sometimes the older ones m-more. Because th-they didn’t get it when they came home.” He smiled his lop-sided smile. “You’re…lucky he didn’t break your jaw. No fun, beli-lieve me.”

He sounded like he spoke from experience. Her eyes traced across his beard. She curled her fingers into her palm to keep from running them over his square jaw.

“You did fine,” he continued. “I w-would have done the s-same thing.”

Zeke wasn’t anybody to her, just a guy that came in sometimes that she had a bit of a crush on. But she appreciated hearing those words, more than he would ever know. She took a deep breath, relieved that she’d finally told somebody. She slid off his lap. “Thank you. I know you’ve got better things to do than coddle me, but I appreciate it.”

He stood up in front of her, and Ember was struck with just how massive he really was. Double her size, at least, with an arm span for miles. His black T-shirt stretched across his chest but billowed around his narrow waist. She’d felt the strength of his body, and it was truly something. No wonder those frat boys hadn’t messed with him.

He held his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she was fascinated by the sight of his bicep knotting, and the shirt cuff straining. She couldn’t get both hands around that arm, let alone one.

“I don’t mind,” he said softly.

When he looked at her that way, the expectations of the world kind of fell away, and she found herself leaning into his touch. When she realized what she had done, she jerked back.

Oh, hell no
.

“I’m sorry I cried on you,” she said briskly. She didn’t have time in her seriously effed-up life for a man.

Again, he gave her that reassuring smile. “A-any time.”

Somehow Ember knew he meant it, and it scared her. Her eyes traced over his harsh face, with his mottled skin. He shifted at first, then made himself stand still under her scrutiny. Pink started to suffuse parts of his face. “Do they hurt?”

He quirked his mouth and shook his head. “Not much.”

Ember wondered at the flat tone. He must be in pain but didn’t want to admit it. “Mind if I ask what happened?”

Zeke sighed and crossed his arms over his substantial chest, letting his hair fall over his brow. “Afghanistan. Grenade hit c-c-corner of a building I was taking c-cover behind, and a c-c-cinder block wall came do-down on me. Ripped me up good. Smashed my head. Gave me a TBI. Broke some…bones. Jaw.”

“What’s a TBI?”

“T-traumatic brain inju-jury.”

Ember cringed in sympathy. “Damn. How long ago was that?”

“Three years.”

So, still fairly fresh. She wondered if he had dreams about the war like her dad did. When she asked, he quirked his mouth again.

“Sometimes. I don’t…punch people though.”

Ember looked away, feeling like an idiot. How long had she lived with Dad’s eccentricities and thought they were just that? Just part of her dad.

When her mom died years ago from cancer, they’d both been left reeling. The sickness had come on so suddenly, and no matter how aggressively they attacked it with round after round of chemo and radiation, it hadn’t helped. Almost a year exactly from the date of diagnosis, she’d been gone.

Dad had had a heart-attack the same month Mom died. Ember had still been in college then, but she’d dropped out when he got sick. It was while he’d been recovering that he punched her the first time. She’d gone in to check on him early one morning, and had gotten slammed in the kidney as she leaned over him to adjust the blanket. He’d been disoriented at the time, and they’d both chalked it up to a fever, but her back had ached for a solid two weeks. He’d apologized and they’d moved on.

Dad had recovered, but it’d been a slow process. Almost more than she could manage on her own. After the better part of a year, he was almost back to normal. When she mentioned going back to school to finish her business degree, he’d supported her, and seemed to be making a new life for himself. He bought the restaurant and moved closer to her at school.

When she’d found out she was pregnant several months later, the situation wasn’t ideal, but she’d been overjoyed. And her dad had been as well. The father of the baby hadn’t been. He’d dropped out of school and disappeared. It had seemed natural to move in with her father to let him help with the baby. It was when she was walking the halls with a colicky Drew that she realized her dad had more serious issues. He would wake at odd times, pore over a scrap book from the war, and sometimes snap at her more aggressively than the situation warranted. It had been startling and frightening, and she wondered why she’d never noticed his behavior before. Had Mom known? Surely.

She blinked, realizing that Zeke stood watching her, brows raised. She felt her skin flush and shook her head. “Sorry. Wool gathering.”

The facts were starting to add up, and she hated feeling stupid. She should have noticed it a long time ago.

“Have you f-found a place to move?”

Ember hesitated, struck with a feeling like she stood at a crossroads. If she told him she had chosen a new place, she would be committing to be more engaged with him. She would be admitting she needed help, which just rubbed her self-sufficient streak the wrong way.

He honestly seemed like a nice guy. Earnest. She hadn’t gotten any asshole vibes off of him yet.

She could just blow him off and say no.

Glancing around the cluttered office, and thinking about the work she had to do at home, she realized that she had so much on her plate that she would appreciate a little help.

“Maybe. Any chance you have a truck?”

He grinned, and she caught her breath at the emotion shining in his stunning eyes. “I do. A big one.”

Ember’s brain made the immediate jump to the inappropriate and she felt color suffuse her face. She’d been so aware of him for so long. Zeke dropped his gaze to his boots. He appeared to be just as embarrassed, although he had a wide grin on his face. She kind of got the feeling that he hadn’t talked like this for a while. His looks would probably discourage a lot of women, but they appealed to her. He looked comfortable to her, like a favorite sweatshirt that had been through many softening washes.

Probably not what he wanted to hear.

“I can’t believe how uncomfortable this makes me, asking you if you can help me move. I’ll pay you back for gas and food.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “I…” He shut his eyes, obviously searching for a word as he waved a hand. “Offered. I work n-nights, but my d-days are free. I can help anytime.”

Coughing into his hand, he reached into his back pocket for a worn billfold stuffed with post-it notes. He dug for a minute and pulled out a black and gold business card. “That has my ce-cell number on it.”

Ember took the card with a glance. Zeke Foster, investigator, Lost and Found Investigative Service.

“I found an apartment complex not too far from here online that sounds good,” she told him. “I’m going to look at it tomorrow. If it suits us, I’ll put a deposit down.” She frowned. “Are you sure you want to help me move? If something comes up you’re definitely not obligated.”

He shook his head again, gaze solid. “N-nothing will come up. I’ll help you. M-may bring a buddy or two for f-f-furniture.”

Ember sighed and slipped the card into her back pocket. “Okay, Zeke. Thank you.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he shook his head, gave her a crooked smile and left the office. Ember stepped out enough to watch him walk away. His broad, T-shirted back filled the doorway as he pushed through the swinging door into the front and disappeared.

Her tummy quivered with spent emotion, and her face throbbed. All the crying hadn’t helped her ever-present headache. She stepped back inside the room and pulled a bottled water from the mini-fridge on the floor, then shook some ibuprofen into her hand. Gulping them down, she settled into the office chair behind her desk.

Zeke had been incredibly sweet, carrying her away from the kitchen and prying eyes to care for her. She’d have struggled through everything if he hadn’t come in, but she couldn’t deny that she felt better after crying it all out. Just telling somebody what was going on eased her worries. She had no idea if what she was doing was right, but she had to do what her gut told her to do. Dad needed help, but he wasn’t going to admit it easily.

Watching Zeke struggle with the stutter made her heart ache. The fact that he’d been injured in the war was suddenly very real to her. Military guys came in all the time, but she’d never gotten close to any of them. Certainly not close enough to worry about their safety when they left.

I’m glad he made it back okay.

It made her wonder what her dad had been through.

T
he apartment she found suited her needs perfectly. On the ground floor, so she didn’t have to worry about carrying boxes, and eventually groceries, upstairs. There were two bedrooms, two baths, a nice sized living room and a decent kitchen. It wasn’t very old, so the appliances and carpet were fairly new. They could move in immediately because it was vacant. But the best thing was that there was a single mother one building down who watched children. The manager told her about Ms. Miller when she mentioned she needed somebody dependable. As soon as she knocked on the woman’s door and saw the happy kids inside, she knew Drew would be fine. The preschool would deliver him here, and Ms. Miller would watch him until Ember got home. So much better than the overcrowded daycare she used now.

It wasn’t ideal, but damn close. They would have to make it work.

The manager of the complex looked at her with pity in her eyes and not a small amount of wariness. Ember knew she looked bad, and the makeup she’d painfully tried to apply didn’t even cover a portion of the Technicolor bruise. She’d left her hair hang over her shoulders today, in hopes that she could kind of shield her face.

Drew was not thrilled with the move. Her father had watched him for four years, ever since he was a baby, and he didn’t understand why Grandpa wasn’t there now. It was impossible to explain to a child that sometimes lives had to change, and sometimes those changes were hard. And that people had to go through bad things before they could find the good. So, she settled for telling him that Grandpa was sick and he was getting help, but that they wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. He pouted but nodded that he wanted Grandpa to get better.

His mood improved when she showed him the playground, just on the other side of the building. As he played on the wooden fort, she called Zeke.

“Lo?”

The sound of his raspy baritone sent chills up her spine. He had no business sounding so delicious.

“Hi, Zeke. Did I wake you?”

She glanced at the clock on her phone and winced. One o’clock. He’d said he worked night shift, so she probably had.

“Nope, I’m wide awake,” he spoke through a yawn.

She chuckled, appreciating the fib. “Well, I’ll make this quick. I checked out the apartment and I’ve put a deposit down. Were you serious about helping me? Even though it’s supposed to be snowing the next couple of days?”

“Of c-course. G-give me your address and what time you w-w-want us to be there.”

Ember gave him her dad’s address, trying not to get choked up. Today was visitation day at the jail, but she hadn’t wanted to see him until she had moved out. She’d heard from the prosecutor that the domestic violence charge was going to be suspended if he completed an outpatient counseling program.

That had probably gone over like a ton of bricks with her dad, the original Mr. Stubborn.

“How old is y-your son?”

Zeke’s question brought her back to the conversation. “Four. He’s kind of lost right now. We’ve lived with my dad all his life. He doesn’t know anything else. So this is going to be a challenge. Especially with Christmas right around the corner.”

“Mm, I th-think he’ll be fine. Kids are…are…are…well, they bounce back okay.”

She heard the frustration in his voice at not being able to articulate what he meant, and she had to bite her lips to keep from supplying the word. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her speaking for him.