Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Why did we not know this?”
“I don’t like to talk about it. It was four months ago. I’m trying to move on.”
The others stared at her, and like a flash of lightning splitting the dark sky, the truth hit her. She closed people out. No matter how much she might crave the closeness she observed between the others, she didn’t let herself have it. She’d thought she’d overcome that, but the reality was, she couldn’t figure out how to do it. To change herself and what had been ingrained in her since childhood. Don’t trust anyone. Especially someone who offers to help you. They don’t want to help you. They just want something from you. The words of one of her foster siblings echoed in her head. She wanted the intimacy the others shared. She did. But not this way. Not by being needy. Then again, if she allowed them to help, it would be a real test of their . . . steadfastness? Loyalty? Trustworthiness? Guilt hit her that she even questioned that at this point in their friendship.
Brooke touched her hand, bringing her back to the conversation. “If you don’t think it has anything to do with the video, what do you think it has to do with?”
Heather huffed a short sigh. “I don’t know. Just forget I said anything. I’m making a big deal out of this. He’ll get tired and move on.”
“He will? Do you know who it is?” Gavin asked.
“No.”
“Anything else we need to know about this situation?” Travis’s quiet—lethal—tone sent goose bumps popping up on her arms. He’d gone still, his eyes narrowed, like a hunter who’d scoped out his prey and was simply waiting for the right time to pounce.
Heather blinked at the easygoing cowboy’s transition, then shook her head. “I really don’t think there is a situation.” At least not one she was ready to admit to. Yet. “I’m taking some precautions and watching my back, but I’m not worried.” Liar. Why had she said anything?
She was competent, used to being in control—of the operating room and her life. Always before, she’d handled her problems herself. She didn’t go blabbing about them to other people. Not even her closest friends. But this situation had her off-kilter and had loosened her tongue way too much. “Seriously, I appreciate that you want to help, but I can deal with it. Really. If it escalates or I think I need help . . . I’ll ask.” No she wouldn’t. She rose. “I’m going to get a refill.” She took her three-quarters-full glass and headed for the kitchen, kicking herself for ruining the lighthearted atmosphere they’d finally managed to achieve after the despondent conversation in the pool.
Gina followed. In the kitchen, her friend grabbed another soda from the refrigerator while Heather waited, mind tumbling with thoughts of leaving.
“What’s with you and Travis?” Gina asked.
Heather blinked. “What do you mean? We’re friends.”
A light laugh tripped from Gina’s lips. “I think his feelings go a little beyond the ‘just friends’ thing.”
Heat crept into Heather’s neck and up into her cheeks. “I’m sure you’re imagining things.”
“No . . . I’m quite sure I’m not.” A wistful smile curved the woman’s lips. “Brad used to look at me that way. Like I was the most beautiful and priceless treasure he’d ever seen. And when you mentioned you thought you had a stalker, Travis’s eyes went black. If you do have a stalker and Travis gets his hands on the man, it won’t end well for that dude. I’m just sayin’.”
“Oh, come on, Gina. Travis is just—”
“Why are you protesting so hard? I’m not blind, my friend.”
Heather stilled. “You’re right. You’re not. We’ve been friends a long time and survived some crazy stuff. If you say he looks at me like that, then . . .”
“He does.”
“Huh. Okay, then.” So, she hadn’t been imagining the spark of interest there. It both thrilled and scared her. All her life she’d longed for a family. She’d decided as a child she wanted a man who’d love her. Someone very different than her abusive father. But she’d also decided that if that didn’t happen, she’d be fine alone.
Gina lifted her soda can in a “cheers” gesture. “I’m going to get back to the ribs. They’re really good.”
At the freezer, Heather added two cubes of ice and considered leaving once more. Gina’s observations and her own loose tongue had served to throw her off her axis. Now that she’d been confronted with the reality of Travis’s interest, she had to decide what to do about it. She’d only dated men she knew she could control—or at least maneuver like pieces on a chessboard. Her friends called them wimps. Travis was no wimp and he wouldn’t be maneuverable. If that was a word. Not that she would ever plan on doing that with Travis, but . . . ugh! Dare she take a chance and encourage his interest?
“There’s ice in the cooler on the deck,” Brooke said from behind her.
“I know.” Heather shut the freezer.
“Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, turning to face her friend. “And I’m not saying that because I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve truly told you everything. I’m probably overreacting.”
“You don’t overreact. It’s not in your DNA.”
A laugh slipped from her. “So we all thought.” She shrugged, her smile sliding south. “I don’t know, Brooke. Ever since the bombing at the hospital, and watching Abdul die, I just—” Why couldn’t she turn the words off? “I can’t even get rid of the T-shirt.”
Maybe she did want to talk about it.
Brooke sidled closer. “What T-shirt?”
“The one the kid was wearing when he approached the hospital. I saw him and I knew, Brooke. I knew what he had planned.”
“How?”
She took a sip of her drink. “I just did.” She stared at the floor, reliving the day the bombing occurred. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, did you know that?”
“You were sandboarding, weren’t you?”
Heather nodded. “But we got back early from our trip and I decided to check on a few patients. I headed for the recovery ward, and that’s when I saw him.”
“And he saw you.”
“Yes. I remember it like it was yesterday. The expression on his face was . . .” She looked away. “I don’t even know if I can put words to it. A mixture of desperation and determination and . . . hope.”
“Hope?”
“Hope that I would help him. Hope that there was a way out of his impossible situation. Hope that he wouldn’t die. He didn’t want to do it.”
“What? Blow up the hospital? So you’ve said.”
She nodded. “He tried to warn us.”
Brooke frowned. “How so?”
Heather rarely talked about that day. Or Abdul. And she’d never told a soul about the T-shirt. Until tonight. “Like I said before, he took his shirt off and showed us the bomb strapped to him. He looked right in my eyes and cried out in English, ‘Help me.’”