“I was piloting a helicopter south of Kabul on my last deployment,” he said quietly. “My copilot JD was making plans for all the things he was going to do when we got back home, and we were joking about some girl he said he was going to marry. We were bringing eleven marines as reinforcements to one of the bases. It was a perfect day. Sunny. Clear sky. We were about ten minutes from our landing site. Storm was in the helicopter with us. He was being a goofball, making everybody laugh. The shot came out of nowhere. One second things were all good, and the next we were going down. Controls were shot. JD was just . . . gone. Men were screaming. There was nothing I could do. I watched the ground rush up to meet us, figured I’d die with my men. Instead, I woke up in a field hospital with just a couple of broken bones.” His arm tightened around her. “I don’t know why I didn’t die with the rest of them. I should have died with them. It wasn’t right.”
“It’s no wonder this has been so hard for you.” Zara turned in his arms. “What can I do to help?”
He let out a shuddering breath. “You can go find yourself a guy who’s not all messed up.”
“I kinda like this guy.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “If you hadn’t noticed, messed up is my specialty.”
His hand slid under her nightshirt and he stroked the curve of her hip. “I need you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She drew his hand down to her lace-covered rear. “I’ve been wearing special panties every night in case you did.”
* * *
• • •
She woke with a start to bright sunshine and the sound of breaking glass. Shaking off sleep, she made her way to the kitchen, where she found Jay cleaning glass off the floor.
“I wanted to make breakfast,” he said by way of explanation.
“It’s all made. All you had to do was heat it up.”
Ten minutes later they sat across from each other at Jay’s small table. Zara had warmed up some sali par eedu for a carb-protein combo that could conquer the day, along with some rava pongal and rich dark coffee for the perfect morning meal.
“This is better than toast and eggs.” Jay dug into his meal with gusto.
“Mehar Auntie made it. I took her to see your mom because she’s always great company. She also goes a little cooking crazy when anyone she knows is in the hospital. You should see our fridge.”
“I’ll bring the leftovers to Mom and Rick,” Jay said between bites. “They need to eat something healthy. They’ve become junk-food addicts. Their room is like a frat house with all the burger wrappers and pizza boxes, and the TV blaring all day long.” He scraped his hand through his hair. “Rick won’t stop talking about the accident, so I have to live it over and over and over again. I’m going to ask Avi to put us at a different table for his wedding if Mom and Rick are still planning to attend.”
“Us?”
“You and me.” Jay sipped his coffee. “We’re a couple. We can sit at the couples table now.”
Zara put down her fork and carefully chose her words. “Jay, I was here for you because you needed me. I won’t deny we have chemistry in bed, and I enjoy spending time with you. I love your sense of humor, and your protectiveness, and how you always make me feel safe. But mostly I love how you accept me for who I am. I don’t have to pretend with you. I can laugh and dance and run barefoot through a party to meet my celebrity crush, and I know you’ll still be there when I get back.”
Jay stilled, the coffee cup still steaming in his hands. “That’s how things are supposed to be when couples get together.”
“But we’re not a couple,” she insisted. “In the big scheme of things, nothing has changed. I’ve always been up front with you about my limitations in the relationship department, and I thought you understood and accepted that. I can’t take that extra step where we open our hearts and pour out our souls, because I’m the kind of person who would just keep pouring until everything was gone.” She took another bite of her meal, but it turned to sawdust on her tongue. “I was devastated as a child when my dad drove away. I didn’t understand what was happening. One day we were eating ice cream and playing ball in the park and the next he was gone. I didn’t know that conflict leads to permanent separation. I didn’t know love wasn’t forever.”
“We’re not them,” he said abruptly. “I know all that about you and I love you just as you are.” He reached for her hand. “I love you, Zara.”
Zara’s heart squeezed in her chest. He loved her. He loved her and now she’d have to walk away. She’d made a terrible mistake coming here. Why hadn’t she considered that in his vulnerable emotional state he might mistake her gesture of support as something else entirely?
“I have to go.” She jumped up from the table, upsetting the little dishes of dip she’d put out for their meal. Where were her damn clothes? Why had she brought so much stuff with her? How was she going to get it all out to her car?
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He followed her through the living room. “I just meant I accept you with your limitations. We can take it as slow as you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Zara stripped off her pajamas and yanked on her jeans, hopping across the clothes-strewn floor. She found an orange shirt that was only slightly stained and pulled it on, desperate to get dressed before he touched her and she fell under his spell again.
“Jay, you’re going through a hard time.” She stuffed her clothes in the nearest bag, heedless of the inevitable creases. “I came here because I was worried about you, because we’re friends. It’s what I would do for anyone I care about. If I’ve led you to think it meant something else, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t go,” he said. “You don’t need to run from me. We can talk about it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you any more than you’re already hurting.” She grabbed her bag and shoved the last of her things inside.
“Zara . . .”
“I’m sorry, Jay. I made a mistake. I can’t do this anymore.”
• 25 •
Bleary-eyed after spending the last twenty-four hours watching soul-destroying musicals, Zara had just put on Les Misérables for the second time when Parvati walked in the door after finishing her shift. “Not that again. Honestly. Aren’t there other sad musicals you can watch as you wallow in self-pity?”
“I watched them. And when I ran out of sad ones, I watched the sad scenes of the happy ones. I’ve seen West Side Story three times, so I can remind myself how ill-fated relationships are supposed to end. But Les Mis is the best. It reflects my inner angst.”